Always A Bridesmaid. Kristin Hardy
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“Lisa Sanders, have I told you how much I love and admire you?” Ariel turned to allow Jillian to zip up the back of her bridesmaid dress.
Lisa glanced over from where she sat at the vanity in the bride’s dressing area. “Any particular reason now?”
“These dresses. They’re gorgeous.”
“I’ll say,” Jillian chimed in fervently. She’d been in more weddings than she could count on one hand and had the closet full of poufy floral dresses to prove it. Lisa had rejected those horrors in favor of slim, tea-length dresses the color of the periwinkles in their bouquets.
Jillian glanced in the mirror at her own dress, admiring the way the bias-cut silk draped. “They really are lovely.”
“And wait until your boy gets a load of you in that,” Ariel said.
Jillian frowned. “My boy?”
“Gil,” Ariel clarified. “I mean, the two of you were flirting like mad last night. Very hot.”
It was crazy to get butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him, Jillian told herself. But every time she remembered the feel of his lips brushing over her knuckles, her stomach lurched as if she was in an elevator that was dropping too fast. She’d tried to tell herself it hadn’t been a big deal. Sure he’d paid attention to her, walked her to her car, kissed her hand, but who knew what that meant? It could just be one of those things people did at rehearsal dinners.
But apparently she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Maybe, Jillian thought, just maybe it hadn’t been her imagination. Maybe there really had been that little buzz there, that little something that felt like, oh…
Chemistry.
It happened, she knew. Couples met, clicked and wound up dating. It wasn’t just in movies and books; she heard about it from her patients, her girlfriends, even her siblings. People got involved, they had relationships.
Why not her?
“If I were you,” Ariel continued, “I’d be looking forward to the reception. What do you think, Lisa?”
“I don’t know.” Lisa was focused intently on trying to get her pearl necklace out of its case but her hands were shaking too much to do it. She cleared her throat. “He’s not really your type, Jillian, is he?”
Her type? How did she even know what her type was? He wasn’t a standard pretty boy but she liked that. She liked the humor that was never far away, the way he made her laugh. And she really, really liked that buzz that went through her whenever they made eye contact.
But who was she fooling? What she liked most, what she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of once since it had happened was the way it had felt when he’d brought her hand to his lips. Anticipation fluttered through her.
“He seems nice enough,” she allowed.
Ariel snorted. “Nice enough?”
“Is he seeing anyone?” Jillian asked.
Lisa fumbled and dropped the necklace.
“Uh-oh, looks like prewedding jitters to me,” Ariel said. “Anyone got a shot of vodka?”
“She doesn’t need a drink.” Jillian came over to help. “She just needs us to stop going on about everything else.”
“I should have listened to Alan and gone to Vegas,” Lisa moaned. “Everything would have been better.”
“It’s going to be beautiful,” Jillian soothed, fastening the necklace in place and putting a reassuring hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “You’ll see. You’re going to walk out there and see Alan and everything will be perfect.”
Carrie came back into the room. “All right, everyone, it’s time. Lisa, honey, you ready?”
“I think so.” Lisa rose, touching her hair nervously. “How do I look?”
“Gorgeous,” Jillian said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Be happy,” she whispered.
Lisa gave her a tremulous smile. “I already am.”
Gil stood in the dressing area watching Alan tie his tie. “So what do you say, are you ready to do this?”
“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Just checking. After all, it’s my job as groomsman to prop you up in the bar and feed you a few drinks to get your courage up.”
Alan patted Gil’s shoulder. “I think you were supposed to do all that at the bachelor party.”
Gil snapped his fingers. “Bachelor party. Damn. I knew there was something I forgot to do.”
“I’ll let it go,” Alan said.
Gil studied his friend. “You’re going to be happy, Alan,” he said. “The two of you have a good vibe.”
“Yeah?” For a minute, Alan forgot about the tie and met Gil’s gaze in the mirror. “I keep wondering if I’m out of my mind, marrying a woman seventeen years younger than me. But I don’t know, when I’m with her, it just works.”
“I don’t think you’re out of your mind. She’s smart, ambitious, gorgeous. And more grown-up than her age.” Gil picked a bit of lint off his sleeve. “What she sees in you, of course, God only knows. If I were you, I’d marry her quick before she comes to her senses.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Anytime,” Gil said cheerfully. “It’s a good match. She can introduce you to the Raconteurs and you can introduce her to Tony Bennett and shuffleboard.”
“I’ll shuffle your board if you don’t watch it,” Alan growled.
“Hey, no roughing up the ushers.”
Alan put on his jacket and buttoned it up. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, but only because I have to go get married.”
“Lucky me,” Gil said.
“No,” Alan said, “Lucky me.”
White satin. Ribbons and lace. The church echoed with the liquid tones of the harp. Freesia from the bouquets scented the air. And everywhere faces glowed with that luminous joy unique to weddings.
Jillian stood quietly at the back of the church with the other bridesmaids. Behind them, hidden in an alcove, Lisa shifted nervously. Then the music started and Alan led the ushers out into place at the front of the church. There was a rustling as everybody turned to the back.
At Carrie’s nod, Jillian began the measured walk down the aisle, the same one she’d made so many times before. Before her lay the pews, the ends adorned with bouquets and ribbons. Beyond that, she saw the organ, the altar, Alan and his ushers.
And Gil.
He wore a tuxedo, no different than the men beside him. But, oh, it looked different. Maybe it was his long, lean build, those shoulders, that way he had of standing as though he was totally at ease and at the same time ready for anything. His skin appeared very tanned, almost swarthy against the snowy-white of his shirt.
And he was staring right at her.
A whole squadron of butterflies took off to flutter madly about her stomach. He had that gleam in his eyes, that look that promised something special, she could see it from there. Quickly, she trained her gaze before her, on the altar. Having a bridesmaid going down the aisle staring at one of the ushers didn’t exactly give a dignified look to the procession.
Focusing on the front of the church didn’t help.
The fact that she kept her eyes turned from Gil was irrelevant—she was aware of him with every fiber of her being. She saw the white gleam of his smile, knew when he shifted a bit and clasped his hands together