Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
El-Mudad had thrown a huge parental fit about it until Neil and I had gently talked him down in private. It wasn’t like she was parading around naked or something.
Seeming to realize how arrogant she’d come across, she tucked a short strand of her slicked-back faux-hawk into place and added a sheepish, “Thank you, Sophie. And Ms. Scaife, your hair is coming along beautifully.”
“Without help from me,” Marie sniped before taking another swallow of wine.
Amal gestured over her shoulder. “I’m going to go see if my father needs anything.”
“All right. Thanks for bringing Olivia down,” I told her, and she backed out of the room with a nod.
“She’s a lovely girl,” my grandma said, clucking her tongue in dismay. “But the haircut…”
“It’s modern, Ma,” Mom said. She took a deep breath as the stylist stepped back. “Oh my god. Look at me. I look…”
I went over and put my hands on her shoulders, leaning down to meet her eyes in the mirror. “You look like a bride.”
She covered my hand with hers and patted it, tears shining in her eyes.
Since I was her only bridesmaid, Mom had let me pick out my own dress— “Provided it isn’t something weird, Sophie Anne,” she’d warned me—and I’d decided to go with a pale pink satin-finish Catherine Regehr trumpet gown with turned-down shoulders embellished with subtle crystal beads. It was gorgeous, but not super comfortable to sit in. I should have thought of that before it was time to get into the car, but at that point, it was too late.
I rode in the sleek stretch limo with Mom and Olivia and grandma and Marie, frantically calling ahead to the church to make sure Tony was hidden away by the time we arrived.
“I honestly thought I’d be hanging out in the basement or something before the service,” Mom said nervously as we pulled up outside the church. “This is like how the princesses arrive.”
But as we walked through the doors, she grabbed my hand. “Sophie. Do you have your phone?”
“Marie has it,” I said, but Marie was already sliding it into my hand.
“Call Tony,” Mom said. “Make sure he’s here.”
“The music is already playing, and everybody is in their seats,” I told her. “If he wasn’t, I’m sure we’d know by now.”
“You’re supposed to walk down the aisle with him,” Grandma said with a sniff. “I guess Catholics do things a little different here.”
“Oh please, like you’ve never been to a Catholic wedding where the bride walked down the aisle by herself,” Marie said, putting my phone into her purse. “Now I have to go inside looking like the asshole who got here late.”
“Jesus can hear you, Marie!” Grandma snapped.
“Ma, just go in and have your moment,” Mom said, gesturing to the usher who waited patiently outside the closed sanctuary doors. We stepped aside so we’d be hidden while Marie went into the sanctuary.
“I’m ready!” Olivia said, grabbing her basket of petals from my hand and launching herself at the door as it closed behind Marie.
“Olivia, no!” I whispered frantically. Luckily, Tony’s cousin, the usher, stopped her with a gentle, “Whoa, whoa there.”
“I better hurry up before she goes wild,” Grandma said. She kissed Mom on the cheek and squeezed her hand. “You’re beautiful. And you deserve all this happiness.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Mom said, her voice choked up. “Gah, now I’m going to cry and ruin all this makeup.”
“It’s waterproof,” I reminded her gently. “And that’s a really great setting spray she used.”
Mom laughed through her tears and waved frantically at her eyes. The usher took Grandma inside; as mother-of-the-bride, she had the honor of being seated last before the processional. Once she was gone, Mom turned to me. “Are you doing okay?”
“Am I doing okay?” I asked with a laugh. “It’s your wedding!”
“I know, but I have to check!” she said, with all the frustration of the Mom I knew and loved. And our relationship had healed, somewhat. Though I’d thought she’d invited El-Mudad and his daughters out of spite, she’d seemed genuinely delighted when the girls had arrived. Now, she gave me an apologetic smile and said, “I’m sorry. I wish we would have never fought about El-Mudad.”
I shrugged. “It happened. Today’s your big day. Let’s not ruin it.”
“Making things right won’t ruin anything, Sophie. I don’t want to walk down that aisle with you thinking there’s some kind of fracture between us. I want you to know...I think you’re lucky to have two people in your life who love you.”
She grabbed me for a big hug while I held her bouquet out at arms’ length so she wouldn’t crush it.
When she stepped back, she nodded at the ushers at the door. One of them reached in to give the signal, and we took our places as the opening notes of the wedding march blared from the organ in the sanctuary; no doubt my grandmother would have something to say about that “pagan” choice of music.