We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 72

THIS AISLE IS A MASTERPIECE

I don't know where the possible hell Meg and Nate disappeared to. All I know is Meg dies tonight.

Brody and Lauren line up first. Alex and Whit are third in line, right behind Jack and Cam. I can't breathe.

I'm standing, a fool, searching desperately for Nate's square jaw.

"Guess it's us," Brooks says, brows creased.

"Oh my God," I whisper curse to myself. "They'll be here any sec."

"Still, line's kind of moving." Brooks holds out his elbow in my direction.

I look down at my feet, at my bone-color pedicure and strappy heels against the flagstone patio that disappears into the sand in front of us.

Brody and Lauren are already leaving the sand for the driftwood aisle. It's like her long flowy pony is all I can see. Jack and Cam saunter up behind them. And there goes Alex and Whit. Johnny and Sara.

Brooks and Meg should be up next.

The wedding planner is still holding us back from the sand. She messes with Brooks's boutonniere and rotates my bouquet so a new way faces outward.

"OK, almost up," she says.

"I'm gonna kill them," I exhale, my head starting to pound.

I'm starting to feel the desperation. Brooks and I are standing in the staging area before the aisle, all alone.

I hear Trix's heels smacking against the marble in rhythmic click clicks.

This is it.

"We're here!" Meg shouts from the far side of the back patio.

She races up the flagstone, trying to cross the white ropes to the staging area, but the next cue in the music is up and the wedding planner is shoving Meg and Travis forward.

They're already at the end of the aisle. Nate is tucking in his button-down.

"What the f—"

"Come on," Brooks says, pulling me to the edge of the driftwood.

"No." I cross my arms and narrow my eyes at him.

"Emmy, let's go. We're next," Brooks says, urging me along.

Trix is coming in hot on our heels and we've already let too much time pass after Meg and Travis. They're basically at the altar already.

"Do you want to ruin this?" Brooks hisses in my ear.

His head is so close to mine, his mouth so close. I ignore his pearly whites and stomp my foot like a 10-year-old.

"Is walking beside me that bad?" He asks, brow furrowed.

"Fine," I say, looping my hand through Brooks's.

He starts moving and my body falls into place beside his.

So this is us, walking down the aisle together after all.

One foot in front of the other, Emmy.

This aisle is a masterpiece, a fucking work of art. I am talking call the Louvre. Picture everything you've seen of a cliffside, beachy wedding on Pinterest. Now amplify that tenfold.

A driftwood strip runs down the middle of a sea of white chairs. It dead ends under a circular archway adorned with feathery beachgrass, like some giant coastal wreath.

White, coral, and navy flower petals yield beneath our feet.

I grip Brooks's arm and I can feel his muscle beneath his seersucker button-down. I'm aware he's stealing glances at me, but I refuse to look.

I'm aware what this looks like. In fact, I'm envisioning it all from a bird's eye view.

Brooks and I, oh fuck, Brooks and I... We burned all of us down but reveled in every flame. We enjoyed the pain.

And I get it. Who wants easy? Who wants fairytales?

Maybe people who haven't seen a decent tragedy.

I don't see anyone else right now –not the guests, not Meg and Travis finally taking their spots, not my parents sitting in the fifth row back, or even the billowing beachgrass beyond the altar.

My bird's eye sees a young, broken woman clutching the arm of someone who's not her answer. To everyone else, I'm sure we look the part –fantastic even, enviable. I'm sure there are people sitting in the wooden chairs thinking they'll be next.

Oh God, why is this aisle so fucking long?

We finally make it to the end, and I feel Brooks's arm loosen beneath mine. I quickly disentangle myself from him and watch Brooks stand on the other side of Nate. I take my spot in front of Meg, right next to where Trix will be any second.

Meg's face looks both horror-stricken and apologetic. I avoid making any type of eye contact. I barely have time for a quick glance down at my cleavage and bouquet before everyone stands from their seats.

Trix appears at the end of the aisle, a vision in off-white. Loose waves frame her face, spilling out of her half down, half updo. The same tan beachgrass and pussy willow that's wrapped around the altar is peaking out of her posy.

I see Travis, welling up, out of the corner of my eye. Don't worry, bud. I'm crying too. Here's to waterproof mascara.

Trix arrives at the end of the aisle, her face glowing ambient in the misty sun, every inch of her utterly breathtaking. Her dad pecks her on the cheek and hands her over to Travis.

Travis steps forward, his darkly hooded eyelids look extra heavy today, but in the best way. I concentrate on the glimmer of his eyebrow ring and how it matches Trix's earrings.

...

The minister welcomes the crowd and reminds us why we are all gathered here today. As if we forgot. It all seems V outdated, but hey. Not my wedding.

"...To join in the union of love Travis Landon Scott and Teresa Angela Barr," he pauses. At least he got their names right.

Travis is first up for his vows, and I can already sense the women about to weep.

Tears are imminent. Mine at least.

Everyone is filtered in some weird tropical glow right now. I blame the ocean below us and the sinking sun above. I can't stop myself from admiring all the men I see lined up behind Travis.

Nate with his square jaw and cropped cut. I'm amazed to see he's standing up straight. If I squint, I see lime green liquor on his cheeks from earlier. There's Alex with his lazy smile and eyes that are somehow even greener in the sunlight. Yes, I'm picturing his dimples. I even allow myself a once-over of Brooks, who I am unfazed to find is staring solely at me. He looks damn good in vintage seersucker. Fuck.

"Ever since that night in senior year..." I catch a bit of Travis's voice interrupting my thoughts.

Trix makes a hiccupping sound, and I can only see the back of her head, but I know she's smiling.

My eyes flit back to Brooks. Our kiss from the cerulean walk is still burning *searing* my mind and my lips. I let myself smile sadly to return his.

"...And not just my best guy friend." Trix's lofty voice falls on my ears. I'm not sure when she started her vows.

It hits me that I'm a trash friend right now –that I'm missing Trix and Travis's vows because I'm a narcissistic tool bag. I shake my head clear (lightly, so I don't mess up my hair), and make a secret vow to myself.

I will pay attention.

...

Hi Bremmies! Who else loves Trix & Travis day?! Reception is coming up!! What's going to go down and who's gonna throw down?! Shoot your ideas here. I'd love to hear them.