Twenty-seven

“You’re going to ruin your mascara,” Holly said.

“I know but I can’t help it,” Angie wailed. “I’m just so ha-ha-hap-py.”

“She doesn’t sound happy,” Sydney said.

“Here,” Holly said. “Pull gently on your lower eyelids. It’ll make your tears recede back into your eyeballs.”

Angie sniffed but did as she was told. “Oh, hey, that totally worked.”

“I’ve been to a lot of weddings,” Holly said. “And I cry every time.”

Mel was surprised to find that at that particular moment she didn’t feel like crying. Instead, she was ecstatic, giddy even, that her life was rocketing forward with Joe at her side as her husband. She had never felt luckier in her entire life.

The limo stopped in front of the small white chapel. It was adorable with a petite bell tower and circled by a tall white wrought iron fence, covered in yellow climbing roses. The place looked as if it had soaked in all the crazy, giddy, silly happiness from all the couples who had crossed its threshold over the years. Mel stared out the window as the others climbed out, pausing to take it all in.

Tate was standing out front, looking spectacular in a dove gray tux with tails, a snappy patterned waistcoat, and a black bow tie.

“Hey there, handsome,” Angie called out to him. When he looked at her in her spiffy pink dress, he grinned.

“Hey there to you, beautiful,” he said. Then he kissed her—per usual it did not remain chaste for long. “Dang! We need to get hitched quick. I’ve got wedding fever.”

Tate helped everyone out of the limo and then reached in for Mel. She took his hand and he gently pulled her out.

“Hey, buddy, are you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Good, that’s good,” he said. He didn’t release her hands but instead took her other hand in his so that they stood facing each other.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. When she met his gaze, he looked a little watery.

“Uh-oh,” Angie said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Tate’s cheek then she took Holly’s arm and Sydney’s hand and led them to the front door. “Have your moment, you two; we’ll wait by the door.”

“You’re my best friend,” Tate said. His voice sounded gruff. He squeezed her hands and Mel squeezed his back and said, “And you’re mine.”

“Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?” he asked.

“In the best possible way,” she said.

He nodded, sniffed, and then nodded again. “And you’re sure?”

“With all of my heart,” she said.

“Good.” He blew out a breath. “I’d have helped you escape if you got cold feet and changed your mind; even though I’m pretty sure Angie would hunt me down and skin me.”

“I appreciate the offer but it’s not necessary,” she said. “I just hope . . .”

“What?” Tate asked. He frowned, clearly picking up on her anxiety.

“It’s stupid . . . it’s just . . . I want to be the perfect wife for Joe,” she said.

Tate smiled and then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Do not worry. ‘It doesn’t matter if the guy is perfect or the girl is perfect, as long as they are perfect for each other.’”

“Oh, Good Will Hunting,” Mel identified the movie quote. “You know that’s in my top ten.”

“I’ve been saving it for your special day,” he admitted.

“It was perfect.” She laughed and hugged him close.