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Sitting
next to Masen, I watched as Jake and Leah danced at their wedding. My feet were
in Masen’s lap. “It was a perfect day,” I said, reaching over to Masen’s hair
and brushing it back off his forehead. “Beautiful wedding.”
“It
was a beautiful wedding,” Masen agreed, kissing my left hand. My engagement
ring was on a necklace, as we’d decided not to steal Leah and Jake’s thunder. “I
can’t wait until this is us.”
“Only,
I’m certain that our wedding will not be this understated,” I snorted. “How
much of a media circus will our wedding be? Not that I mind … I want the world
to know that we’re solidly a couple.”
“It
will be insane. Especially in Gevalia,” Masen chuckled. He lifted me onto his
lap, his hands gliding over my back and nuzzling my neck. “Have you seen the
footage of Prince William when he married Kate Middleton? Prince Harry marrying
Meghan Markle?”
“Oh,
fuck,” I giggled.
“You’re
a normal woman from New York, marrying a prince,” he said, his lips moving
along the column of my neck, moving to my ear and suckling on the earlobe. “A
modern-day fairy tale, cherie.”
“Complete
with the dead mother, a single, broken father, evil sister and sad backstory,
forced into indentured servitude because of our woes. Holy hell, my life is a
Disney movie,” I quipped, melting against him. He pulled back, his handsome
face in a deep frown. “What? What’s with this face? I don’t like the frowny face,
Masen.”
“I
hate that you had it so bad, Bella,” he whispered, tracing my cheek with his
fingertip.
“I
don’t have it so bad now,” I whispered back, taking his hand and kissing his
palm. His gaze softened, kissing me tenderly and holding me to his body. I
draped my arms over his shoulders, idly playing with his hair as it brushed the
collar of his suit. He sighed heavily, clearly still upset at my life prior to
our relationship. “Masen, please don’t dwell on the past. We can’t change it.”
“We
can only learn from it. I know,” he said, staring at me. “Where did your
therapist get that little gem? The Lion
King?”
“I
think so,” I snickered, kissing his nose.
“I
need all the single ladies out on the dance floor,” the DJ announced. “It’s
time to toss the bouquet. Single guys … you’re on deck!”
Leah
glided over to me, grabbing my hand and tugging me off Masen’s lap. “Come on,
Bells,” she sang. “You’re still single.”
“No
… I’ll break something,” I whined, following her to the center of the dance
floor. Rachel hugged me and I pouted as I stood next to my friend. “Rachel, I
will be pummeled by these girls. I’m puny compared to them. I’m also gimpy.”
“You’ll
be fine, Bella,” Rachel scoffed, flipping her long black hair over her
shoulders. “I have an in with the bride. She married my baby brother.” She
clapped her hands together with an evil grin. The DJ was playing Cyndi Lauper’s
“Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” as Leah sashayed to the front of the dance floor.
She was wagging her bouquet, a beaming grin on her face. Rachel rubbed hands
together, taking a more athletic stance. In her bridesmaid dress, it was
hysterical. I just hid behind her, praying I wouldn’t get trampled by the
thirty women huddled on the dance floor. As the chorus swelled, Leah turned
around and prepared to throw the bouquet. Instead, she ran to me and handed it
to me. “Told you!” Rachel crowed.
“What?!”
I squeaked, holding the beautiful bouquet in my hands.
“We
all know you’re next,” Leah said, hugging me and taking a quick glance at my
necklace with my engagement ring. The photographer came over and took our
picture before she was led to a chair where Jake was waiting to tug off her
garter. Jake pulled the same stunt that Leah did, tucking the garter into
Masen’s pocket. The four of us smiled happily
and the rest of the wedding was a blur of cake, champagne and dancing.
Bree Tanner, reporter for Vanity Fair
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