Lydia's wedding dawned, and most of the bridesmaids were hungover—a strong argument for bachelorette parties two days before the wedding, not the night before. Everyone nursed headaches, drinking copious amounts of water with breakfast in a futile attempt to feel better. Keeley felt nauseous from the previous night's shots and took a couple of antacids, which offered some relief.
At least the ceremony wasn't until 11:00 AM, giving them a few hours for their headaches to subside.
In the bridal suite at the venue, the maid of honor meticulously curled Lydia's hair, twisting and pinning it into an elaborate updo. The bridesmaids wore their hair in low buns, with loose wisps framing their faces. Their bouquets—lavender and baby's breath—sat aside while everyone finished hair and makeup. Lydia's bouquet, however, featured purple roses and lavender. They were beautiful bouquets; unfortunately, the bridesmaid dresses didn't share the same aesthetic appeal. Nobody looked particularly flattering in them, but the bride was the star, after all.
"Fifteen minutes, ladies," the wedding planner announced, knocking on the door and sending everyone into a flurry of activity.
"I'm not ready!" Lydia panicked. "Has anyone seen my shoes? My veil? My mother?"
"I have your shoes and veil, sweetie," Mrs. Price said from the corner, her quiet presence having been completely overlooked.
"It's fine," the maid of honor reassured, putting the finishing touches on Lydia's hair. "You'll be Mrs. Collin Renshaw in a few minutes, and then you won't have to worry anymore."
Lydia focused on deep breaths. Were all brides this nervous? Keeley hadn't been—or at least, she'd thought she hadn't been. Marrying Aaron had seemed like the right decision then. She'd been wrong.
It was time. The groom waited at the arch. The bridesmaids and groomsmen met near the aisle entrance and began their processional to the wedding march.
By the time Keeley and Jeffrey linked arms, her mind went blank. She needed the music to help her walk without tripping, but the march was so reminiscent of her own wedding that she felt tears welling up. Jeffrey noticed her glistening eyes but couldn't ask if she was okay; all eyes were on them. She blinked rapidly, desperate to avoid ruining her barely applied makeup.
Finally, the bride and her father appeared at the aisle's top, and the guests rose as they processed down.
'Don't cry. Don't you dare cry, Keeley,' she thought. 'You can't ruin Lydia's big day.'
Yet, all she wanted was to hide and weep. Knowing she'd endure this again in a few months at Jennica's wedding only amplified the pain; it was still too raw.
Focused on maintaining a composed appearance for photographs, she barely registered the officiant's words until the vows. Lydia and Collin had written their own, and the emotion in their voices was palpable as they expressed their love. Keeley's desire to cry intensified, but she held back the tears.
No one had ever—or would ever—love her as much as those two loved each other, and it hurt. Hadn't she convinced herself she didn't care about love? That her career and friends were more important?
But her friends wouldn't be around forever. They were getting married rapidly. Valentina planned to return to Peru eventually, and Ryan would likely find a girlfriend who wouldn't want him close to another woman.
It would be Keeley and her cat against the world. Her father would be there for another twenty or thirty years, but then she'd be utterly alone.
When the happy couple said "I do," and the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, a few tears finally escaped. She quickly wiped them away unnoticed.
The recessional followed the cheers, and everyone moved to the reception area. Lunch would precede the first dance, bouquet toss, and garter toss.
Keeley sat with Keisha and Jeffrey, attempting to maintain a cheerful demeanor during their conversation, but found it easier to listen than contribute. They were funny, but their happiness only intensified her heartache; yet another loving couple.
If Aaron were present, she'd probably punch him for making her feel so miserable.
The lunch—delicious Mediterranean-style grilled chicken and a light salad—was barely touched. Neither was the cake.
Exhausted, she longed to return to her hotel, but smiling for photos with the bridesmaids remained a requirement. She lacked the emotional energy.
The bouquet toss followed lunch. Beyoncé's "Single Ladies" played as Lydia prepared to throw the bouquet.
To Keeley's dismay, it landed directly in her hands, despite her attempts to stand as far from the group as possible while still participating.
These superstitions were nonsense. There was no way she'd be next. Surely, another desperate single woman at the wedding was dying to catch it. Could she get a redo?
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