When it's their turn Monty nudges her forward, and Hadley walks with small steps, a bit unsteady in her heels. The wedding is bigger than she'd imagined; for months she's been picturing a small country church filled with a few close friends. But this is nothing short of a gala event, and there are hundreds of unfamiliar faces, all turned in her direction.
She adjusts her grip on the stems of the bouquet and lifts her chin. On the groom's side, she spots a few people she vaguely knows: an old college friend of her father's; a second cousin who's been living in Australia; and an elderly uncle who for years sent her birthday gifts on the completely wrong day, and who—if she's being really honest—she sort of assumed was dead by now.
As they make their way up the aisle, Hadley has to remind herself to breathe. The music is loud in her ears and the dim lighting of the church makes her blink. It's hard to tell whether she's warm because there's no air-conditioning or because of the panicky feeling she's trying hard to push away, that familiar sensation that comes with too many people in too little space.
When they're finally near the front of the church, she's startled to see her dad standing at the altar. It seems faintly ridiculous that he should be up there at all, in this church in London that smells of rain and perfume, a line of women in purple dresses making their way toward him with halting steps. It doesn't fit somehow, this image of him before her, clean-shaven and bright-eyed, a small purple flower pinned to his lapel. It seems to Hadley that there are a thousand more likely places for him to be at the moment, on this summer afternoon. He should be in their kitchen back home, wearing those ratty pajamas of his, the ones with the holes in the heels where the legs are too long. Or flipping through a stack of bills in his old office, sipping tea from his GOT POETRY? mug, thinking about heading outside to mow the lawn. There are, in fact, any number of things he should be doing right now, but getting married is definitely not one of them.
She glances at the pews as she walks past; little bouquets of flowers, tied off with silk ribbons, are balanced on the end of each one. The candles at the front of the church make everything look slightly magical, and the sophistication of the whole thing, the stylish elegance of it, is in such stark contrast to Dad's old life that Hadley's honestly not sure whether to be confused or insulted.
It occurs to her that Charlotte must now be somewhere behind her, waiting in the wings, and the urge to turn around and look nearly overwhelms her. She glances up again, and this time, it's to find Dad's eyes fixed on her. Without really even meaning to, she looks away, using all her concentration to keep herself moving forward, though every part of her is itching to bolt in the opposite direction.
At the top of the aisle, as she and Monty part ways, Dad reaches out and takes Hadley's hand, giving it a little squeeze. The way he looks right now, so tall and handsome in a tux, reminds her of the photos she's seen from when he married Mom, and she swallows hard and manages a small smile before moving to join the rest of the bridesmaids on the other side of the altar. Her eyes travel to the back of the church, and when the music shifts and swells, the guests rise to their feet, and the bride appears in the doorway on the arm of her father.
Hadley had been so prepared to hate Charlotte that she's momentarily stunned by how beautiful she looks in the bell-shaped dress and delicate veil. She's tall and willowy, so different from Mom, who is short and compact, tiny enough that whenever they used to go out Dad would jokingly sweep her up and pretend that he was planning on tossing her into a garbage can.
But now, here in front of her is Charlotte, looking so lovely and graceful that Hadley worries she won't have anything terrible to report to Mom later. Her walk to the front of the church seems endless, yet nobody can look away. And when she finally reaches the altar, her eyes still locked on Dad's, she glances over her shoulder and flashes a smile at a dazed Hadley, who—despite everything, despite all her vows to hate her—grins back reflexively.
