Chapter 2 - Walking Down the Aisle Anyway
The music had already started on the other side of the double doors. I could hear the string quartet through the wood, playing the processional we had picked out three months ago in that little office with the venue coordinator. My daughter's cheek was still wet against my collar, and the black phone was still lit in my right hand. The screen had dimmed but that gray bubble was burned into me. Once he signs after the ceremony, the house is ours.
The coordinator, a woman in a navy blazer with a headset, cracked the door and looked at us. She smiled tight and mouthed, "One minute." She didn't see the phone. She saw a groom holding his kid and a bride standing two feet away with her hands clenched in her lace.
I should have said it right there. I should have read the words out loud and watched what happened. Instead I looked at my bride's face — that wide-eyed, open-mouthed panic from the hallway — and I realized my daughter could hear everything. She was breathing hard against my shoulder, her little hands twisted in my tuxedo jacket, her ivory dress wrinkled where I'd been holding her.
I turned the phone over, pressed the side button until the screen went black, and slid it into the inside pocket of my jacket. It fit heavy against my chest, right over my heart.
"We need to talk after," I said. I kept my voice low enough that only she could hear it. I didn't make it a question.
Her shoulders dropped a fraction, not in relief but in that way people do when they realize they're not going to be hit immediately. She stepped forward and forced her hands to move. She brushed her thumbs under my daughter's eyes, wiping the tears and the flush from her cheeks. Her fingers were shaking.
"Please, not now," she whispered. Her voice was barely there, and she tried to smile for my daughter. "Hey, sweet pea, you're okay. You're so okay. Daddy's got you."
My daughter didn't answer. She just clung tighter. The coordinator opened the door wider this time and gestured. The quartet was looping the intro, waiting.
I carried my daughter away from my bride, down the short hall toward the small alcove where my best man, Caleb, was waiting. He'd been my roommate in college, he was supposed to make sure I didn't lose the rings. He took one look at my face and his smile faltered.
"Hey," he said quietly. "You good?"
I didn't answer that either. I adjusted my daughter on my hip so I could look at her. Her blonde hair was stuck to her damp cheek. I smoothed it back.
"I need you to sit with Caleb for the ceremony, okay?" I said to her. "Just right up front where I can see you. Like we practiced."
She nodded against me, still not letting go. Caleb stepped forward and held out his arms. I handed her off, and she went to him reluctantly, her head turning to keep me in sight. The phone pressed against my ribs when I moved.
Caleb leaned in as I straightened my bow tie. "What was that about?" he murmured.
"Watch her," I told him. "Don't let her out of your sight until I'm back with her."
He nodded once. He knew me well enough not to push.
The coordinator touched my elbow and then my bride's. "Places," she whispered, her headset crackling. She ushered my bride back toward the bridal suite entrance to make her walk, and guided me toward the side door that led to the chapel. My bride's eyes caught mine one last time before she disappeared around the corner. She wasn't crying. She was holding herself completely still, like if she didn't move the moment wouldn't break.
I stepped through the side door into the ballroom. The warm yellow light from the hallway gave way to brighter chandeliers, fifty or sixty people turned in their chairs. The quartet saw me and started the processional for real. I walked to the front, to the little arch with the white flowers, and took my place next to the officiant. Caleb came in behind me and sat in the front row with my daughter on his lap. She had her thumb in her mouth, which she only did when she was really nervous.
My jacket pocket vibrated.
Once. Then again.
Someone was texting that phone. Soielaydo, probably. Following up about the house. About me signing.
May you like
I kept my hands clasped in front of me so no one would see them shake. I felt the heat of the chandeliers and the weight of the phone against my chest with every breath. At the back of the room, the double doors opened. My bride appeared in her white lace dress, holding a small bouquet, smiling the practiced smile we'd rehearsed for photos. She started walking toward me down the white runner while everyone stood.
I watched her come toward me and I didn't know who I was about to marry.
