ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID, NEVER a bride” would be a fitting epitaph for Bridget Nolan if it didn’t have the wistful connotation of an old maid wishing that she could still be married. There needed to be a colloquialism for the woman merrily schtupping her ex-husband, with whom she was very happily in love, while serving as maid of honor in her parents’ second wedding.
Molly and Sean Nolan got remarried in the backyard of the house where their children had grown up. Their daughter-in-law, Hannah Mayfield, had transformed the space into a fairyland, if one could ignore the sounds of traffic wafting over the assembly from the freeway a few blocks away. Father Patrick Dooley performed the ceremony, even though he could get in trouble because you technically can’t perform a marriage ceremony for two people who were divorced—even from each other—in the Catholic church. But he seemed totally copacetic about it.
“You look beautiful, Mom,” Bridget said as she grabbed more smoked salmon from the buffet table.
Her mother stopped and dropped her new/old husband’s arm, so he stopped, too. “How much champagne have you had, Bridget Mary Nolan?”
Bridget looked at her half-empty glass and did some quick subtraction in her head. “Two and a half glasses. Why do you ask?”
That’s when she noticed that her mother’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “You called me ‘Mom’ again. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it.”
Although she really didn’t want to get into a teary scene now, she couldn’t think of a better time to tell her mother, “I’ve been thinking it consistently for a while now.”
She didn’t have to look at her father to feel that he was pleased with her, but that’s not why she’d said it. After almost losing Matt, Bridget had forgiven her mother. She’d realized that she’d had a blind spot when it came to empathy with her for years and years. She didn’t have to forgive her—after all, Molly had made some grievous errors in how she’d lived her life—but it made her father happy.
Over the past year, since she’d gotten back together with Matt, she’d actually opened her heart to her mother again. She decided that she’d rather have the woman who’d given birth to her in her life than hold her choices against her forever.
If Molly bugged out again, though she doubted that would happen, it would hurt a lot. But she would still have her father and brothers to fall back on—and now she had a partner.
Her mother still looked as though she was going to start crying, and that simply wouldn’t do. There was no way that their makeup could withstand another onslaught of tears. “Don’t cry, Mom.”
Her mother reached out for her hand. “There’s one thing we definitely do have in common,” Molly said on a sob. “Neither of us likes people telling us what we can and cannot do.”
Bridget was only saved from crying by Matt wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Music’s going to start soon, and I need to dance with my best girl.”
“I like ‘my best girl,’” Bridget said.
“It’s sort of a mouthful.” Her parents wandered off to talk to other guests, but she barely noticed. She didn’t clock much besides the man who turned her in his arms and smiled down at her.
“Well, it sort of fits because I’m kind of a handful.”
Matt laughed and moved them both toward the dance floor. “You can say that again.” He then squeezed her butt, which made her squeal and look around for where his parents were hanging out.
“Your mother is going to tell me that I’m eroding your morals.” She didn’t slap his hand away, though. “Again.”
She and Jane had come to an understanding after joining forces to convince Matt to go back to law school. After Bridget had screeched about how wasteful it was not to go back when he wouldn’t have any student loans, Matt had capitulated.
And after they’d discovered a shared interest in elaborate skin-care regimes Jane had stopped calling her a gold digger under her breath. A few months after that, Jane had shocked the shit out of Bridget in suggesting her as a candidate for a legal position at a national reproductive rights organization.
Since her family’s foundation bankrolled a lot of that organization’s initiatives, it was a very friendly interview process.
Even with all the progress they’d made, Bridget didn’t want to tempt fate with lewd displays in front of the woman. Matt was undeterred, though. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “If I can’t play grabby hands with my ex-wife without getting yelled at by my mom, what am I even doing with my life?”
That, they hadn’t figured out. He’d graduated from law school and taken the bar exam, but he hadn’t said what he was going to do with his life. “I think we’re all waiting to find that out.”
“Are you worried that you’ll end up with an unemployed slob sleeping on your couch?” Matt teased.
“Well, we don’t live together, so you can be a slob on your own couch.” After fast-forwarding the beginning of their romantic relationship, they’d elected to take things slow. But for the past month, since he’d finished the bar exam, there had been a feeling like they’d been dancing around the next step in their relationship. She could kind of see why Matt didn’t want to suggest anything drastic. After all, she’d broken up with someone for buying her a house once.
He took her in his arms and pulled her onto the dance floor that had been constructed over the grass. Bridget breathed in, comforted and aroused by his scent. She let her hands creep down his back and squeezed his ass.
“Now my mother is definitely going to tell us both off.”
As they swayed to the sounds of the band playing Sinatra, she kind of didn’t care. “If I can’t grab my ex-husband’s ass at my parents’ second wedding, what am I even doing with my life?”
“That’s the spirit.” He was quiet for a few more moments, and everything felt perfect. Except for the question that his parents—and increasingly her parents—had started asking them: What were they doing with their lives?
They were committed to a future together, but they’d been in a sort of stasis since Matt had gone back to school. And it was all great. They loved each other. But, still. Unlike when she’d been expecting a proposal before, she felt the anticipation of Matt asking her to move in or get married like an itch that she couldn’t quite scratch.
If she reached for it first, would he pull away? She didn’t think so, but what she had with him felt too important to risk.
She was going to pull back and say something because tonight felt like the right time to ask, and then they could tell everyone and really mess up her mother’s makeup. But he beat her to the punch.
“I’ve got a question for you, Muffin.”
“I still hate that.” She tried to look serious but failed.
“No, you don’t,” he said, in a stern voice that wasn’t really all that stern. And he was right. She just had to say she didn’t like it because it was their thing. They had couple things. She never thought she’d have couple things with anyone ever again. “But seriously, I have a question.”
“You didn’t buy me a house, did you?” It never hurt to make sure.
“No, we’re going to pick that out together.” His wry grin said that he was deeply satisfied to be smarter than her ex-douche, even if that didn’t take much. “Can I proceed?”
“You may.”
He laughed, because she sounded testy, but he didn’t miss a step. “I think I want to be your ex-ex-husband.”
Even though excitement bubbled up inside, she wanted him to ask her instead of making a vague suggestion. It was important. “That’s not in the form of a question, Counselor.”
Then he missed a step to get down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”
“Again?” She didn’t know why she asked that, but it was probably out of embarrassment because everyone at the wedding reception was staring at them. She broke eye contact with Matt to seek out her mother and mouth, “I’m sorry.”
Luckily, Matt didn’t rescind the question right then and there. “Yes, again.”
Bridget’s heart stopped beating for a split second before it started up again. She was surprised that she loved this so much, that she wanted to be married to Matt Kido so much. So much that she didn’t care that it was a cheesy move to propose at someone else’s wedding.
“Yes.”
He stood up then as he slid the ring she didn’t even look at on her finger. He kissed her and picked her up off her heels. She didn’t care what anyone thought. Didn’t care if his parents or her parents approved or if Chris was there or jealous. All she cared about was the man swinging her around the dance floor.