Sophia?

Soph?

Eat me.

chapter seven

The anteroom at the Swedenborgian Church in Pacific Heights was full to bursting with shades of maple, copper, champagne gold, and cheddar goldfish. Crinolines crackled and swished, nervous giggles spilled from delicately painted lips, and a proud father stood straight and tall.

A bride stepped forward to take his arm as her ladies gathered before her, their hands full of peaches-and-cream dahlias. She was tall and regal, blushing and not at all bashful. Draped in ivory silk and century-old Italian lace, the solitary spot of color was a four-karat canary diamond on the fourth finger of her left hand.

The oaken doors opened.

Her eyes danced.

As a string quartet played, her bridesmaids glided down the aisle, one after another. The church was full, but not overly so. The small chapel, earthy and charming, had a coffered ceiling made of ancient wood accented by the thousands of softly lit cream-colored candles. In the hearth, uncommon in most churches but perfectly suited to this rustic setting, a fire crackled merrily, casting its own fairy-tale light.

Guests smiled, their faces aglow with quiet expectation, turned toward the center aisle. And as I walked down that very aisle before the bride, I saw Benjamin at the end, beaming.

And next to him? My own piece of heaven. I smiled when I saw him, resplendent in a tuxedo that was cut to accentuate his tall and strong frame. His eyes glowed azure in the firelight, his face extraordinary. His grin burst across his face as I neared him. He winked, and I swooned.

As did most of the ladies in the chapel.

Taking my place in line, I watched as Jillian’s maid of honor joined us, the music changing as the bride was about to appear. I turned to see not Jillian, but Benjamin.

Have you ever watched a groom when his bride appears for the first time? All eyes are on her, yes, but the true magic is wherever that groom is. To witness his eyes light up, to see the emotions fall across his face. To be there as he fights to retain control of his feelings, as all men are supposed to do in that situation. But those first few seconds, you see the truth. You can see everything he feels when he sees her that first time.

I didn’t need to actually observe Jillian turn that corner to know when she had entered that chapel. Because I saw it all on Benjamin’s face, the second he saw her.

Surprise.

Longing.

Relief.

Need.

Pure, naked joy.

Tears sprang to my eyes, as I knew they would. I could feel my grin take over my face, threatening to split it in two. As my gaze swept across to where Jillian was walking toward us, I caught Simon’s eye.

And I’ll be damned if there wasn’t a tear in his eye too.

• • •

The ceremony was short and sweet. Vows were exchanged, tears were shed by most, and under a shower of petals, the newlyweds exited the church into a perfect autumn afternoon.

And who did I see throwing those petals? Mimi and Ryan, of course, Sophia and Barry Derry (who was admittedly hot), and Neil and . . . no one.

He didn’t bring a date after all.

Something that was noticed by Sophia, even though she pretended not to notice him at all.

Although I was required by wedding party law to accompany Jillian everywhere she went (and yes, this included the ladies’ room, where I can now say I’ve helped my boss pee), I managed to sneak in a little time with my friends before getting onto the very inelegant but very necessary party bus.

Simon and I were separated by our “bridal order,” since the best man was always photographed officially with the maid of honor, but once the photographer was done I was able to sneak a kiss or two.

“I knew you’d look pretty in your bridesmaid dress.” He spun me to take in the full skirt, his eyes widening when he saw it flare up and reveal a little extra leg.

“You cleaned up very nicely yourself,” I answered, taking a moment to admire the treat that was Wallbanger in a tux.

“So now what happens?”

“Now we get on the bus and drink champagne with the rest of the wedding party, take pictures over at Baker Beach with the bridge in the background, then off to the reception. Where you can get me drunk, if you like.”

“I like. I also liked that ceremony back there. They seemed really happy, didn’t they?”

“They did.” I smiled, gazing up into those sapphire eyes, which looked over my shoulder and clouded over.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Maybe nothing.” He grimaced, and I turned. Sophia and Barry Derry talking with Mimi and Ryan, with Neil walking toward them.

“Oh boy,” I muttered, and we headed in.

“So I said, no way, Barry—not here; anyone could see us!” Sophia cried, grasping the guy who had no idea what he was in for. I looked over at Mimi, who was struggling to keep a straight face, while Ryan just frowned.

“Hey everyone, wasn’t it a beautiful ceremony?” I asked, pulling Simon into the ring just as Neil reached the group.

Mimi took the cue, responding loudly, “It really was! Sophia, did you get a look at those roses by the altar? We should go get some pictures before they—”

“Hi, Sophia,” Neil said from behind Sophia, and her eyes blazed.

I looked at Simon, Simon looked at Ryan, Ryan looked at Neil. Neil looked at the back of Sophia’s hair, while Barry Derry looked at his fingernails.

Finally Simon walked over to Neil and clapped him on the back in that man-clappy way.

“Hey, man, did you see Benjamin yet? I think he’s still doing that receival line or whatever it’s called. I’ll walk you over.” Simon nodded at Ryan, who crossed over as well. That left Mimi, Sophia, and me on one side of the circle, and the boys on the other. Mr. Derry was still in the middle, clueless. But still way hot.

“Sophia, come on, baby, are you going to ignore me all night?” Neil asked, and her spine stiffened.

“Baby? You’re gonna call me baby?” she hissed, spinning on her heel. A Come Fuck Me heel, I might add; the girl was fierce. Her hair was waved back in perfect curls, makeup was flawless, body with its newly added breakup pounds was poured into a slinky black dress. And her boobs? Shit. I was even a little curious.

But Neil? He was astonished. Dumbstruck. Clotheslined. The linebacker stared at the cellist, eyes like saucers. Hungry saucers—this boy was still stupid in love.

But she was so very angry. And I couldn’t blame her. Because no one can hurt you quite like someone who says he loves you.

“You don’t get to call me baby,” she snapped, hands on her hips, chest thrust forward; she knew how to use what she had. Grabbing Barry by the tie, she led him toward the parking lot.