Play Along(132)
Instead, we’re doing it here. In this little run-down chapel with plastic flowers hot-glued to the pulpit for décor. The lighting is fucking awful and the red carpet runner spanning the aisle is tacky as hell.
But I wouldn’t change a thing, especially now that our closest family and friends are here to witness this time.
Speaking of family, Dean is the last to arrive, walking through the front doors minutes before Kennedy is due to appear.
The entire room of my teammates turn in their seats to look at him.
“My bad. Flight got delayed.” He nods towards me. “Hey, man.”
Hand in his, I throw my arm around him, smacking his back a couple of times. “Glad you made it, asshole.”
“Thanks for the invite, dick. Sorry I’m late.”
“Perfect timing. Kenny is on her way. Any word from your family?”
He shakes his head, careless expression on his face. “Nah. They’re too busy trying to find Mallory a husband to celebrate Kennedy being happy. You know how they are.”
I do know how they are, though neither my wife nor I have had to deal with their bullshit for almost two years. Her mother rarely attempts to contact her, and Kennedy has not once reached out since the night I met them.
Which seems to be for the best. The only thing those people ever did is make Kennedy question her worth, and over the past two years, I’ve done my best to make sure she’ll never question it again.
Ironic, really, that the only reason Kennedy and I got married in the first place is that she was feeling petty and hurt over her ex-fiancé marrying her stepsister. But time would show everyone’s true colors. Connor and Mallory never even made it down the aisle because, according to Dean, they constantly fought about their lack of trust in one another.
I guess that’s what you get when you get together by cheating. You’re always going to be worried about it happening to you.
“See you after,” Dean says, taking the front-row seat on the side closest to where Kennedy will sit.
“They’re here,” Kai says, holding his still-sleeping daughter against his chest.
Monty stands front and center, facing the crowd, and I take the spot just to his left with my brother behind me.
Monty places a hand on my shoulder. “You ready?”
I’m bouncing on my toes with excitement. “Yep.”
“Max,” he says to my nephew standing at my side, hand slipped into mine. “Are you ready? You remember what to do when your mom gets here?”
Blue eyes sparkling up at his grandpa, he nods enthusiastically.
Elvis gives Monty a thumbs-up from the back of the room, and the doors are opening.
Miller is first, bouquet in her hands. She lines up at the end of the aisle, smiling at her dad, her son, her husband, then lastly me.
Max runs to her, high fiving my teammates along the way, before Miller hands him our rings and directs him back down the aisle to us. The boys cheer for him, and I’m fucking dying over how flushed his cheeks are, how wide his grin is. These guys are good at a lot of things, but they are excellent at making sure Max knows how important he is.
When he makes it back, he hands the rings off to his dad and Miller starts her walk.
It wasn’t all that long ago that the roles were reversed. I was Kai’s best man, and Kennedy was Miller’s maid of honor. Monty officiated that ceremony too and Max hung out up front with us the entire time, the same way he will today.
Miller’s got her attention locked on my brother the whole time and shoots him a wink when she stands opposite him.
“Fucking obsessed with that girl,” he whispers for only Monty and me to hear.
“We know,” we say at the same time.
Speaking of obsessed . . .
The door opens one more time, and the first thing I see is that color that caught my attention the first time we met—Kennedy Rhodes Auburn.
The air from the door closing blows her hair, allowing it to drape around her face, and I swear to God she looks like a real-life angel when it settles.
A bouquet of flowers held in her hands. Yellow, I believe. Chosen because it’s my favorite color, after all. Creamy white dress, constructed for her body. Unlike her last one, this one skims the floor, fabric molding to every dip and curve. Simple and understated, allowing her to be the star of the show. As classic and elegant as she is.
And that smile. That goddamn, earth-shattering smile she shoots me. It steals my breath with how grounded, how content it is. Like she knows, just as I do, that this is where we belong.
Hi, she mouths from down the aisle, red carpet runner ahead of her.
Hi, I return. I shake my head in disbelief because in what fucking world did I get it so right that I get to have the privilege of being the one she’s walking down the aisle to?
If I thought deeper into it, I could probably give a few hundred reasons as to why I’m not good enough to have this moment, but I’m a selfish man. So instead, I just hold eye contact with her and count my blessings.
The music shifts, not to the original song she walked down the aisle to, but something a little more classic. The crowd stands, and that’s when she takes the first step towards me.
She’s stunning and confident, no question or hesitation in her movements, and I know for a fact it’s an image that this time I won’t be able to forget.
Especially when she takes a step towards me and the toe of her shoe peeks out from the hem of her dress. There are no heels on her feet, just a pair of black sneakers I bought her when I was desperate for her to be comfortable enough that she might be willing to spend a bit of time with me.