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“You’re telling me.”
We hear the toilet flush and River bounces back into the room. Her hair’s still not brushed and her dress is tucked up in her tights in the back. “I don’t want to go!” she tells me, tossing herself on the floor. “Weddings suck.”
Tiller looks over at her and the butt showing. He laughs.
My mother knocks on the door. “Ready? It’s time to go downstairs.”
Tiller groans and stuffs a travel size bottle of vodka in his pocket. “I’m gonna need this.”
I gesture to my dress. “I wish there was room in here for a flask,” I whisper, picking a floppy River off the floor.
Tiller shoves a second bottle from the mini-bar in his other pocket and kisses my temple. “I got you.”
In my arms, River begins crying, squirming and reaching for Tiller. “Carry me!”
He follows us out of the room, looking at her like she’s lost her mind. “You’re being carried.”
Since meeting Tiller, officially a week ago, it’s apparent I’m no longer her favorite person. I can’t say I blame her. I think I’m more attached to him now too. I know I don’t want him going anywhere.
“No. I want you!” She screams until the vein in her forehead pops out.
“All right, crazy clock.” Tiller takes her from me. “Get it together.”
As we make our way out of the inn, I’m sweating and wishing I wasn’t wearing such an awful and plain dress.
In the lobby of the Inn, two kids ask for Tiller’s autograph and he has to set River down to do it, but he does and I’m kind of glad he did because the boys look awestruck that he gave them a minute. The boys walk away, and my mother takes River by the hand, leading her out of the Inn.
Tiller grabs me by my hand and takes the pen to write on my palm.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhh. Read it later.” And then he curls my fingers around my palm.
There’s so much commotion around us, I don’t have a chance to give what he wrote a second thought.
The wedding party meets outside the Inn and I just want to get the day over with. I want out of Muir Beach and back in Santa Monica where I can put some distance between me and these people who claim to be my family. But first we had to get this wedding over.
If you’re one of the couples that insist you have your wedding here, the ceremony is usually held on the lawn with its view of the horses in a pasture, or in the snug room. But not for Alexandra. Those options weren’t good enough for her, so she chose to exchange vows on the nearby Muir Beach with the sea mist spraying up. It’s also a two-minute walk from the inn.
I repeat, atwo-minutewalk. Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be a big deal, but for this wedding party, it is. Have you ever tried to get a three-year-old to walk two minutes up hill in shoes she doesn’t want to be wearing and a dress she hates?
It sucks. This spot they picked out is tucked against the forested hillsides of Mt. Tamalpais and I’m sorry, but if Terrance had any smarts, he’d throw my sister off the side.
The whole adventure up hill is awful, and by the time we get to the ceremony spot, River’s dress is covered in dirt. She’s crying because her feet hurt and pretty much refuses to even pretend to be the flower girl and tosses the basket of flowers over the side of the cliff. Vander, not knowing when to quit or mind his business in general, tries to comfort her.
You’re looking for Tiller now, aren’t you? Yeah, me too. Do you see him behind us? If you don’t notice him, he’s the tall one with the out-of-control dark hair and the look of murder in his eyes. He looks like his head is going to explode when Vander’s other hand reaches for my waist to lead me forward.
Terrance and Alexandra wrote their own vows and while those around me are sighing and awing over their promises, I take a peek at my hand and what Tiller wrote on it. You were curious, weren’t you?
Your beauty runs deep. Like my cock in your pussy later.
My cheeks burn and I burst out laughing, only to be scowled at. Of course, my mother thinks I’m laughing at Alexandra’s vows, but I’m not.
I look at Tiller, who winks. He knows why I’m laughing.
I’m almost positive by the time the reception comes around, everyone wants the night to be over with, or maybe it’s just me. Either way, I’m looking for the hard stuff before dinner’s even served.
The reception is held in the conservatory with its wall of glass and abundance of vines and flowers. It’s sickening and so white it’s nearly blinding, but the sunset giving off the bright red and orange hues make up for it.