Page 53 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)
There was total silence in the tent, other than a few rueful snorts of agreement. This was not the usual best man speech full of mildly embarrassing anecdotes, or a cleverly rhymed long-form poem, or a pop song with personalized lyrics. It wasn’t an in-joke between the groom and his friends.
It spoke to everyone present.
Next to her, Nessa was smiling down happily at her engagement ring, thinking her private thoughts. A few yards beyond, she could see Archie blowing his nose into his handkerchief, and she knew he was reflecting on Maureen and the late-blooming love that transformed both their lives.
Tom’s mother was watching him and listening with rapt attention; when she lifted her champagne glass to take a sip, Ranney she thought could see her hand tremble just the slightest bit.
“So what can we say to those who are still searching? Because I can assure you, from observation and personal experience, that no one ever truly gives up hope. Nor should they! Every day is a gift, but to love deeply– and to be loved in return –is by far the greatest gift of all.”
This time there was no mistaking it–he looked directly at her, with such intensity that she felt a wave of dizziness. Then his gaze moved past her and he went on.
“Perhaps I am in no position to be giving advice on this subject, but there is one other thing that I can say for sure: When you are looking for your person, preconceived notions will only lead you astray. Let go of every idea you have about blue eyes or brown skin, short or tall. Let go of the rules you’ve heard about too old or too young.
The only thing that matters is how you feel when you are together.
How you feel. Not your family or your friends.
“So whether you grew up together and imprinted one another like ducklings; whether, like Ani and Charlie, you found each other with decades ahead in which to build a family; whether, like me, you’ve learned a thing or two and you’re finally ready to put it into practice; or whether you are ninety-five years old but your ardent heart feels twenty-five, my wish for you is that you find true love.
When you do, whatever you do, don’t let it go.
And I can promise you this: When you find it, you will know. ”
He reached down for his glass and lifted it high.
“To Ani and Charlie. To a couple who knows. To true love.”
“To true love!” the crowd roared back.
“To true love,” Ranney whispered.
“Wow.” Nessa gave her an evaluating look. “Of all the wedding speeches I have heard…”
All Ranney could muster in return was a distracted smile.
Her mind wasn’t so much racing–that would imply coherent thought–as it was flashing images in her brain, like a private slide deck.
Tom, the first time she saw him at Meet Cute, when he talked to her about the book she was buying.
Tom on their midnight tour of Las Vegas, laughing with her at the neon extravaganza.
Tom changing the tire in the desert heat–oh, the pink car!
Tom with his fishing rod in Idaho, talking animatedly to Mame on the terrace, standing in her living room.
Tom, poised above her in bed, his skin warm, eyes burning into hers, skin against skin, his face transported…
When she turned her eyes to his table, his seat was empty.
“I’m going to check on the… on things,” she told Nessa vaguely.
She could not get out of that tent fast enough. Too many people, too much noise, too much light. She needed quiet, space to think. Under normal circumstances, walking around an event, she would head for activity.
Not now.
Instinctively, she made her way back down the empty path to the pool, where she had talked to him last. His whole speech had seemed as if he were speaking directly to her–was it just her overheated imagination?
Surely the part about taking an earlier flight was meant for her?
The part about being loved in return? When he said he was ready to put what he’d learned into practice?
As she had hoped, the pool area was deserted, underwater lights casting just enough of a glow for her to make her way to a table. Sinking into one of the chairs, she rested her aching head on her arms.
This was not how it was supposed to be.
When Carmine left her, she had suffered through more than enough emotional pain for one lifetime, and she had carefully crafted a life that protected her from ever going through that again (with the exception of intransigent daughters and high-maintenance mothers, of course, but some things cannot be controlled).
For years, she had dated a string of very nice men who all had the potential to become interesting companions, but never had she been forced to deal with this high-stakes, low-willpower, pulse-racing, stomach-churning tsunami of feelings. It was unsustainable.
She was too old for this.
Inevitably, when she checked her Instagram feed, she found memes advising her that lasting love should not feel like a nervous breakdown. The right man, they always said, made you feel calm, secure, supported, adored, understood, and also did the dishes and his own laundry.
Anything else was a dopamine addiction or the result of a difficult childhood.
The only problem with this counsel was the equal and opposite advice warning her that her days on earth were limited and essentially wasted if she did not live every moment to the fullest, never settling for less than the ultimate rush.
This camp recommended skydiving, extreme travel to remote places, and operatic passion, always assuring her, without evidence, that she “deserved” it.
Now she wondered if she deserved it as a reward or a punishment.
When the sun sets in Texas, even in the warmest weather, it gets cold fast. The chilly air made her misery complete. It would be silly to take a social media post seriously, but on the other hand, a meme becomes a meme because there’s an element of universal truth to it.
It’s the modern equivalent of an old wives’ tale.
So how should she reconcile the opposing viewpoints? Run away from the passion or run toward it?
And then it hit her: They were both right.
She did feel the intense passion, the consuming desire, the intellectual engagement, the certainty that if this was her one and only life, she wanted to spend it with Tom. But he wasn’t just her passion–he did make her feel secure, supported, understood, adored.
What she didn’t feel was calm.
There was a third type of meme in every news feed, she recalled now, but the message didn’t just apply to relationships. It was: Be who you are, listen to your heart, and don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.
If she could follow that advice, she just might feel calm, too. And she didn’t care whether or not he did his own laundry. That could be worked out later.
Getting to her feet, she pushed her hair back out of her eyes and headed for the gate. Fumbling with the latch slowed her down and she felt a surge of impatience. When the gate finally clanged shut behind her, she started briskly up the path but instead of easing, the impatient feeling grew.
By the time the reception tent came into view, she was trotting.
“Everything okay?” A member of Archie’s security team was suddenly trotting behind her. At Wedding Protectors, someone running was generally considered a bad sign that required further investigation.
“Yes,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s fine. I just… forgot something I need to do. Thanks, though.”
When she reached the flower-festooned entrance to the tent, she came to a halt, panting a little.
Compose yourself. If you go running in there like your hair is on fire, you’ll start a stampede . People are skittish these days and it’s your job to inspire confidence .
Smoothing her skirt, she took three deep, cleansing breaths and walked in.
Dinner service had ended and dancing on the terrace had begun. Some guests were lingering over their coffee and whipped cream-covered shortcake, but the action had moved outside. One quick scan told her there was no one here she recognized.
Tom was nowhere in sight.
Don’t panic, she told herself. He hasn’t left. The reception’s far from over, and anyway, where would he go?
“Mom?” This was a word that Nessa tried hard to avoid in professional circumstances, and it stopped Ranney in her tracks.
"Hmm?"
“I’m glad I found you,” Nessa said.
“Is there a problem?”
“No–well, yes–I think I made a big mistake.”
“Oh, no, Ness, what is it? Not like the floodtide? We’re nowhere near the ocean!
” Nessa’s career had nearly derailed when she failed to account for a hundred-year tide that swept into a Provincetown reception.
She’d been working diligently to regain trust. Another mistake of that magnitude would be disastrous.
“No! Something bad but not that bad. I think I can fix this one.”
“For goodness’ sake, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve been thinking since Tom’s speech–I might have misjudged him.
It’s kind of an unusual situation, right?
And it looked pretty bad at first, you have to admit, but what he said tonight was so beautiful.
And he’s really been a good guy–I mean, he went to dinner at Mame’s, and that’s not for the faint of heart. ”
They both smiled.
“Anyway, I haven’t been very nice to him, or to you. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I made things harder. I should have trusted you. I just want you to be happy.”
“Nessa!” Ranney’s tears threatened to spill over and she blinked them back. “Oh, Ness, thank you, that means everything to me. I haven’t been very nice to him, either. I think I need to fix that, if it’s not too late.” She paused. “It was a beautiful speech, wasn’t it?”
Nessa nodded. “I don’t think anyone’s ever going to forget it. Why don’t you go tell him you liked it?”
“I'm working. I - I shouldn't use work time to reconcile my love life. Right?”
Nessa's eyebrow lifted. "I think now is the perfect time, Mom."