“You’re pretty damn amazing yourself,” he says once we break apart. He grabs hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Love that dress on you.”
I glance down. The dress is pale yellow and strapless, with a snug bodice and a flowing skirt that hits me just above the knee. I love it. “I like it too which surprises me. I’m not a fan of yellow.”
“I’m a fan of anything on you.” Matt tugs me close and drops another kiss on my lips, but I put my free hand on his chest, giving him a little push.
“Stop,” I say without much force—like I’d deny this man anything, especially affection. I love it when he kisses me. Touches me. I’d pretty much let him do whatever he wants to me.
I’m that far gone over him.
“We need to focus on our new tasks and keep the bride and groom calm,” I remind him. I sent him a text when I arrived along with the rest of the bridal party and he immediately asked me to meet with him for a few minutes. So here we are.
Figures he tried to cop a feel. Not that I stopped him.
“Gage is fine,” Matt says, still gripping my hand. “He’s more worried about Marina. How is our bride?”
“She’s better.” Once she’d calmed down about the whole Ivy going into labor situation, Marina seemed good. Calmer, which she needs to be in order to get through this day. She’s been amped with the wedding plans, but I know she’s waiting for it all to be said and done. Not that she won’t enjoy her wedding, but . . .
I think she’s really looking forward to their tropical honeymoon where she can relax. And get wrapped up in her husband.
“Wait until you see her. She’s a gorgeous bride,” I say dreamily. Marina is the quintessential bride all little girls dream of being. Her gown is something straight out of a fairytale, with the full skirt, a sparkly bodice, and feathers.
Yes, white feathers. The dress is hand beaded and ruched, made of tulle and silk, and the look is completed with a tiny tiara on her head. Marina will probably make everyone’s jaw hit the floor the moment they see her walk down the aisle. I could almost cry just thinking about it.
“You’ll be a gorgeous bride someday too, you know.” Matt lifts our linked hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles.
Panic rises within me, but I bat it down. He’s been talking so seriously lately. We’ve been together for only a short time, but I know what he wants. Me. Us. Together.
Forever.
Am I ready for that sort of commitment? I know I can’t do much better than Matthew DeLuca. That sounds cold, but it’s true. We’re madly in love with each other. Not only does he treat me like the woman he worships and loves, but he also respects my mind and work ethic. He values my opinion. We work well together at the winery. We have an amazing relationship. I’m a lucky girl.
It all still feels unreal, us being together. And this scares the crap out of me.
Marina
I SIT IN front of the mirror and take a deep breath, shrugging off Mom as she tries to hug me. Again. She’s been a regular waterworks the entire morning, but now that I’m in full makeup, I refuse to shed another tear until the actual ceremony.
“You look so beautiful,” Mom says on a wistful sigh. “I can’t believe my baby girl is getting married.”
She’s said that multiple times this morning too. I understand she’s feeling nostalgic, but her tears and trembling voice are doing me in. I’m an emotional, exhausted wreck. Wedding planning is hard, and I’ve been such a control freak, I hardly let the planner Mom and Dad hired for the wedding make a move without consulting me first.
The room Matt provided for the bridal party to wait in right before the ceremony is perfect. Bryn had a hand in putting it all together, and I can tell. I really love that girl. So glad we’ve become such good friends.
“I hope everything goes smoothly,” I murmur to myself, but the way Mom just straightened, I know she heard me.
“It will be perfect. I just know it. You’ve already had your one flub for the day. Everything else will be fine,” Mom says with a steely voice that tells me she’s not in the mood for contradictions.
Now it’s my turn to straighten. I meet her gaze in the mirror. “What do you mean, ‘your one flub’?”
“Ivy and Archer having to back out.” Mom waves a hand, dismissing our friends just like that. “I understand we can’t predict when a baby will decide when he or she is ready to make their way into the world. It threw us off a little, but Matt and Bryn have stepped in and everything’s going to be just fine.”
As if she heard her name mentioned, Bryn glided into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Her lipstick is completely smudged, so that means she must’ve snuck off and met with Matt.
A spark of jealousy lights inside of me. I wish I could secretly meet Gage and let him kiss my lipstick off.
But I can’t. We’re getting married in a matter of minutes. I’m going to be Mrs. Marina Emerson. I’m excited. More than ready to be Gage’s wife. After all—the stress from planning will fade away like a bad dream.
“Hey.”
I blink and shake my head, realizing that it’s Bryn standing behind me now instead of Mom. She has her hands on my shoulders, a reassuring smile on her face. If she wasn’t such a good friend, I could almost hate Bryn for how beautiful she is. She’s gorgeous—her face and body such flawless perfection, she could be a movie star.
The bridesmaid’s dress looks amazing on her. It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. Everything has been planned, down to the finest detail. So why do I feel like such a wreck inside?
“What’s up?” I say, offering Bryn a quick smile. “You snuck off and met Matt, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. How could you tell?” Bryn looks embarrassed which is cute.
“You walked out with lipstick and came back with none. That’s a dead giveaway,” I say.
She rolls her eyes, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. “I think he wants to ask me to marry him soon.”
“Wow. Really?” I’m surprised, yet not. If any of those guys were a not-so-secret romantic, it’d be Matt. He’s never tried to hide it either, but his worshipful side has come out big time since Bryn came into his life. “That’s wonderful.”
“Yes.” Bryn shrugs, her expression turning miserable. “It is.”
I stand up and peer at her, noting the way she tilts her head so her gaze is cast downward. Like she doesn’t want to look me in the eye. “What’s wrong?”