“Right. Of course. That makes sense.” She stood in front of me and ran her hands up and down my bare arms, trying to reassure me. “JC will make sure you’re safe. Hudson can help him ramp up the security if you’re not convinced that you have enough. And just think—tomorrow you’ll be married. After that, you’ll have your honeymoon. You can escape from all the pressure and relax for a bit. And then in twenty-six weeks, you’ll have a baby! What can be more wonderful than that?”
“Nothing,” I said, and even though she was wrong about most of it—I wouldn’t be married tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be going on my honeymoon—she was right about the baby. It hadn’t been planned or wanted, and it was going to be tough as shit without JC, but I’d get through it, especially with her support.
And, as hard as it was going to be, I was pretty sure it would also be wonderful.
***
The wedding was scheduled for six on Sunday evening. By one, the Pierce house was a bustle. Besides the hairdresser, nail professional and makeup artist, Mirabelle and Norma and Laynie were there, hovering over me, urging me to eat, fawning over every detail of my bridal preparations. It was ironic how much preparation and fuss was going into a non-wedding.
Of course, no one knew that’s what this was but me.
“French manicure for her hands,” Mira said, “the pale pink for her toes.”
“The bright pink will show up better,” Laynie argued.
Mira scoffed. “She’s not getting any pictures of her feet.”
“She might on her honeymoon. The pale pink is going to look washed out.” Laynie turned to me, both bottles in her hand. “The bright pink is a much better choice, Gwen. Don’t you agree?”
“Mmhmm.”
“See!” Laynie was so triumphant in her win that she didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm.
So it went with the entire afternoon. No one commented on my mood. No one asked what my problem was. They just cooed and buzzed, excited enough about my event to make up for my apathy.
For the most part, I was able to keep my emotions at bay by focusing on the pampering. I told myself we were playing dress-up. It wasn’t every day that I got dolled up, and it did feel good to have my hands massaged and my hair washed by someone else.
When it was time to go, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, dressed in a simple lace and tulle A-line gown, my hair in soft curls around my face, my makeup light and perfect.
“You’re exquisite!” Mira exclaimed at my side.
“Simply gorgeous,” said Laynie.
“You glow,” Norma added, reminding me of when JC had said the same words to me. Grief bubbled up inside of me, and all I could do was nod and bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying.
Go numb, I begged myself. Numb, numb, numb.
All during the limo ride to the Brooklyn Bridge Park, I tried to reclaim the stoic mask I’d maintained all afternoon, but every minute we got closer, my heart broke a little more. We’d chosen to make our vows at Jane’s Carousel, the place we’d had our first reunion kiss on the Fourth of July. It had felt like a romantic and whimsical location. Now it just felt sad.
By the time we pulled up to the park, anxiety began to surge as strongly as grief. At what point would this all be called off? How long did I let this go on? Mira jumped out of the car first, telling us she’d call us as soon as the event coordinator told us it was time to line up. Would we sit there indefinitely, waiting for a groom who would never appear?
Laynie’s phone rang shortly after Mira’s disappearance, and I held my breath, prepared for her to announce that JC hadn’t yet arrived.
Instead, when she hung up, she said, “They’re ready for us to line up! Gah! This is so exciting!” She tugged me out of the car and started to pull me with her toward the crowd standing in front of the carousel.
“You’re in the front,” I said. “You should go first.”
“Good thinking.” She let go of my hand. “We don’t want him to see you yet.” She ran on ahead, leaving me behind with Norma, who was slated to process in just before me.
When we were about twenty feet away from the spot where we were supposed to line up, I stopped walking. “I can’t do this.”
Norma, realizing I had halted, turned back to me. “Can’t do what? Are you having cold feet?”
“Not exactly.” Fuck, I knew this was going to be embarrassing. Now that we were here, I realized how embarrassing. I didn’t like it. I wanted it over with.
Cursing him again under my breath, I said, “It’s JC. I need to tell you something.”