Lots of people have been arriving at the hotel today, and we have fun welcome bags waiting in each room. I love the bags. They are adorable creamy-colored totes with our wedding monogram printed on them. Inside the bag is a map of the Plaza, the weekend itinerary, water bottles, a Kansas City pennant, cookies, nuts, cheese and crackers, and chocolate truffles. Also waiting in each room is a bucket of locally brewed Boulevard beer.
I’ve already eaten the truffles out of my bag, and Joey and Nick quickly robbed me of my beer.
The rehearsal went well and was followed by a casual barbecue dinner for everyone in town. There were lots of toasts, and we gave our wedding party their gifts. The guys went crazy over their custom Nikes and are beyond excited that they don’t have to wear the shoes that came with their tuxedos.
Phillip and I are on one of the trolleys his parents rented to take people on a tour of the Plaza Lights. The Country Club Plaza is pretty at any time of the year, but it is amazing during the holidays. It was one of the first shopping centers in the country and was modeled after Seville, Spain, so the buildings have great architectural details. Like beautiful Spanish domes, towers, arches, and columns. The Plaza Lights are eighty miles of lights that highlight those architectural features.
I snuggle into Phillip’s arm. “It’s really breathtaking, isn’t it?”
Phillip looks straight at me, ignores the lights, and says, “You are.”
“Phillip, I mean, the lights, silly. I’m so glad I looked through that holiday album, and we decided to get married here. It feels practically magical.”
He nods his head, pulls me closer to him, and kisses the top of my head. “Our whole wedding is going to be magical, Princess.”
After the trolley ride, we head back to the hospitality suite where we’re serving warm gingersnaps and adorable snowflake-shaped sugar cookies. There’s a coffee and hot chocolate bar to complement the cookies, and Phillip’s mom also decided to serve her son’s favorite gingerbread martinis as well as the chocolate peppermint martini I loved.
Just when it feels like the party’s getting started and I’ve enjoyed a couple of tasty martinis, Amy says to me, “It’s the bride’s bedtime.”
“Really? It’s only, like, ten thirty!”
“You want to look gorgeous on your wedding day, am I right?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I can party tomorrow.”
“Exactly.” She turns to Phillip and says, “That goes for the groom, too.”
Phillip says, “No problem. I’ll walk her to her room and make sure she’s a good girl.”
The way Phillip slowly slides his hand down my back, I doubt that his version of me being a good girl and Amy’s are the same, but either way, I’m pretty sure I’ll be in bed soon.
Outside my hotel room, Phillip says, “So, tomorrow is the big day.”
I smile big. Again. I think my mouth has been in a permanent grin all day.
“Can you believe it’s finally here? I can’t wait for you to see my dress. I hope you love it as much as I do.”
“I’m sure I’ll love it. I mean, I love you.”
He leans one hand against the door above my shoulder. It reminds me of how he used to lean against my locker when he had a secret to tell me.
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Good night.”
He gives me a long, sweet kiss. I can tell he doesn’t want to go, but we’re supposed to, right? Like, everyone says we’re not supposed to spend the night together before our wedding day.
“Make sure you don’t let the guys talk you into partying with them tonight. I want you looking all handsome tomorrow.”
“I didn’t tell them my room number. They’d be banging on my door all night.” He touches my face and looks lovingly into my eyes. “Good night, Princess.”
I shut my door, wishing I had invited him in. I mean, I don’t really require that much sleep, and I usually only get baggy eyes when I’m hungover, which I obviously won’t be.
I’ll call him and tell him to come back down.
But, first, I wanna change into some comfy yoga pants and finish up a couple of things.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. I look out the peephole and see Phillip’s adorable face. I open the door and quickly let him in.
“What are you doing?” he asks, pointing to the purple permanent marker I’m still holding in my hand.
I look down at the marker I forgot I was holding. “Oh, I just finished writing on the bottom of my wedding shoes.”
“Why are you writing on your shoes?”
“It’s kinda like in high school when you’d write math formulas up your arms before a test. You know, so you wouldn’t forget. I’m writing on the bottom of my shoes, so I don’t forget.”
He squints his eyes at me in confusion. “Show me.”
I flip up my purple satin pumps and show him where I wrote, I do!
He laughs at me. “It’s your wedding. Do you think you’ll forget that part?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I tease. “So, what are you doing back down here? I thought you were supposed to be getting your beauty sleep.”
“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to check on you. Are you nervous? Do you have cold feet?”
“Nope, I put on the socks you gave me.” I point down at my fuzzy socks. “I’m all good.”
“Have you had any more bad dreams you haven’t told me about?”
“No, but I have been thinking a lot about my parents.” I tilt my head at him. “Phillip, do you think they’d be proud of me now?”
He pulls me into his arms and sweetly looks at me. “I know they’d be proud of you. You’re learning about life, about love, and you’re playing the hand that was dealt to you the best that you can.”
“It took me a long time to figure things out. I think I’m finally dealing with it. With losing them. I still can’t believe I stood up at their funeral and preached about appreciating what you have, and I didn’t do it myself.”
“Irony, right?”
“Yeah, and it’s only taken me four years to figure it out.”
“At least you realized it. Speaking of that, do you realize this is your last night as Jadyn Reynolds?”
I pull him down onto the bed with me. “Jadyn Mackenzie. I’m not sure I like the sound of that. I might have to keep my name.” I slowly slide my hands down his sides.
He tightly grabs my hands. “No sex.”
“What do you mean, no sex?”
“No sex if you keep your name.”
I struggle and try to free my hands. Phillip has a smart-ass grin on his face. He loves being stronger than me. He might be stronger, but I’m pretty sure I’m smarter. I lean my face into his shoulder, like I’m going to kiss it, but I bite it instead. It doesn’t hurt him, but it startles him enough that I’m able to get one of my hands free.
I run that hand down the front of his jeans. “You drive a hard bargain.” I press down a little firmer on his jeans. “Get it? A hard bargain.”
He laughs. “You’re bad. Is it bad that I want to?”
“I don’t think it’s bad at all. I want to, too. But, before we get to that, can I read you the poem I wrote for the service tomorrow? Like, Lori’s gonna read it, but I kinda wanted you to hear it from me first.”
Phillip smiles. That smile that makes me melt. “I’d love that.”
I grab the poem out of my bag and sit cross-legged on the bed, facing him.
My eyes get teary as I read to him.
Phillip does that to me. He makes me cry.
I remember one night in high school when Katie was crying because she and Neil had broken up, Lisa found some quote. It was something like, No boy is worth your tears, but once you find the one that is, he won’t make you cry.
I’ve decided that quote is wrong.
Phillip makes me cry. I cried about him on the beach in Cancun. I cried about him the night I said yes. Phillip has been chipping away at the hard exterior I put around my heart since my parents died. I didn’t let myself cry, and I wasn’t letting myself feel much either. I locked all my emotions away. Kept them balled up inside of me. I didn’t want to feel anything for anyone because I knew how much it would hurt when I lost them.
But Phillip’s love got through.
Straight through to my heart.
I feel free now.
Free to feel, free to cry, and free to live my life. And the tears I’ve been crying aren’t sad tears; they’ve been happy ones. I’m so happy with Phillip; I can hardly believe it.
Phillip gazes into my eyes the whole time I read. I say a silent prayer that, if I’m lucky enough to see those brown eyes every day, I will have lived an amazing life.
What It Means to Marry Your Best Friend
It means he knows you, all of you.
You can’t hide your bad parts because he’s already seen them.
You can’t surprise him with your good side because he already knows it.
He knows what you want before you know you want it yourself.
He knows how to make you laugh, and he knows exactly what to do when you cry.
He knows you see the world differently than he does and embraces your outlook.
He knows, on the rare occasion when you get quiet, that he’d better start talking.
He knows you tend to stretch the truth and knows exactly when to call your bluff.
He knows when to go along with your stories and when to make up a few of his own.
He usually knows when you’re teasing him and how to get back at you.
He knows you act tough, but you have a soft heart.
He knows you’re fiercely independent, but you secretly love when he rescues you.
He knows when to let you fly and when to reel you in.
And, most importantly, he knows how to love you.
And you know all you need is him.
Phillip pulls me into his chest and hugs me. “That’s amazing, Princess, really. I can’t believe you wrote it.”
“Well, it’s kinda amazing what comes out of you when you start to feel again. Somehow, this whole process, from the planning to the stupid counseling, has helped me feel again. I can’t thank you enough for putting up with my crap and for helping me get through this. I love you, Phillip. I really do.”
“Is there a reason we’re not supposed to be together tonight?”
“Well, I think, traditionally, it was to protect the bride’s virtue. But, since I don’t really have any virtue left, we don’t have to worry about that. It’s also supposed to be bad luck to see the bride on the wedding day. You’re supposed to wait until you see her walking down the aisle in her dress or whatever.”
He gives me a sexy grin. “Wasn’t it you who said we never listen to anybody?”
“I think that was me.” I put my hands on his biceps and give them a little squeeze. “Does that mean I get to wake up in these sexy arms on my wedding day?”
“Most definitely,” he says. He gets up, turns off the lights, puts the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, strips down to his boxers, and slides into bed with me. “We’ll order room service for breakfast, relax, and I’ll sneak out when you go get your hair done. What time is that?”
“My appointment isn’t until noon,” I say as I happily snuggle up next to him.
