Standing in the full length mirror, I gently comb through my long curls.
I look put together, even though I don't feel like that at all. I feel lost, maybe a little sad and definitely lonely. Very lonely, but also almost content in a strange way.
Life is weird... Being alone is weird but suddenly sort of familiar at this point. I've been alone long enough to not dwell on it.
Rolling my eyes, I slide my hands down my body, feeling the fabric of the dark blue dress.
It's a mix between cute and... and mother of the bride, which is exactly what I am.
I'm the mother of the bride- awful, I know.
"Mom, I need your help." Her voice pulls me back in as a smile marks my face.
She's standing in the doorway, wearing her long, white dress, while all of her dark brown hair lay in tight curls that are held perfectly together with about a million clips and a can of hairspray.
She looks gorgeous... young, but still very stunning. And while I love the man she's marrying, I still want to scream at the top of my lungs how bad this is. Getting married at twenty- one isn't the style anymore- maybe when I got married, but definitely not now.
I always felt like her father and I were the prime example of young love- divorced and angry, but she doesn't listen. She wants some fairytale story, where the two lovers ride into the sunset, but that's not how it works and I figured after watching our marriage fall apart- she'd understand that young love was not the answer.
Not for everyone, at least.
"What can I do for you?"
I've already done everything- painted toenails, waxed eyebrows this morning, made sure the flower girl had her left shoe, talked to the music guy about the Eric Clapton song she wants to dance to first and I even stood out in the rain, directing the set up crew.
"I need you to make sure the boys have it all together down there." Betsy sighs, obviously fed up with the rambunctious men just a flight of stairs away.
"I'll check on them, honey." I assure as I move around her, but she stops me before I can leave the room.
"Can you also try to talk to Bridget? She can not walk down the aisle like that." She almost has tears in her eyes as she talks about her younger sister.
"Of course." I don't want to talk to Bridget- I want to yell at her... No, actually I want her father to yell at her, so I'm not the bad guy, like always.
Stepping into the room where all the girls are sitting around, buckling their shoes and taking pictures- I can't help but smile. Betsy picked out these pale pink dresses that just suck the life out of her bridesmaids, but all five girls still look as beautiful as ever. Even Bridget, who had already lined her eyes with dark makeup and teased her hair into wild curls.
"Bridget, where are the shoes that I brought for you?" I push her feet off the couch, shaking my head in disapproval before I move back through the room.
"Sold em'." My nineteen replies and I believe her.
I'm sure she did.
Stepping into the hallway, I inhale some of the fresh air. It doesn't smell like cheap perfume, hairspray and burnt lavender.
But the moment I push open the heavy door to the boys room on the first floor, my head begins to hurt. They are men everywhere- some doing karaoke, some spraying cologne and of course, some of them are taking turns drinking out of a bottle.
"You look great, Ms. Jones!" One of the boys shouts from across the room as I start picking up pants and shoes off the carpeted floor.
"How sweet," I half smile, shaking my head gently.
They're always full of compliments, but only because they've all been drinking since the screwdrivers at breakfast.
"You do look very gorgeous, mama." Adam quickly wraps his arm around me from behind, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
"Okay, enough." I roll my eyes, laughing as I smack him softly with a pair of dress pants that were laying on the floor. "The groom better not be wasted." I raise a brow, warning him more than anything.
I'm not trying to be some monster- in- law, but I'm just throwing it out there that Betsy is definitely a bridezilla.
"I'm not." He smirks, with a shake of his head.
I remove his hands from my waist, and then I tell all the men that they have precisely twenty minutes to sober up before they have to walk down the aisle.
And the moment I turn back around to get to the girls, I bump into a man standing not too far away.
"I'm so sorry," I chuckle lightly, holding up my hand to excuse myself.
"It's all good." He gives me a smile, blue eyes burning into me.
"Steph," My ex husband leans around him, kissing the side of my face just to disgust me.
"Marc..." I say back as I plaster a fake, almost frozen smile to my face.
"Lindsey, this is Betsy's mother- Stevie." He has never referred to me as his ex wife, which has always been weird to me.
I'm always the girls mother, but never the woman he wouldn't take a lie detector test for... miraculous, huh?
"Stevie, this is Lindsey- the new CEO at the office." And then it all makes sense.
Marc is seemingly trying to impress his new boss... I hope he gets plastered.
"It's nice to meet you, Stevie." Lindsey holds out his hand as another one of those handsome smiles tugs at the corners of his mouth.
"It's nice to meet you as well." I gently shake his hand before one of Adams friends pulls me into his arms.
"Can I dance with you?" He's adorable, but he's obnoxious and that out weighs any sort of looks.
"Maybe if you're still standing at the reception, dear." I bite down on my lower lip, patting him gently on the back. "And find your tie." I add as I start trailing back towards the door.
I barely make it to the top of the stairs when her voice catches my attention. "Mom, I need help." Betsy whines, brow creased as she waits with her hands on her hips.
"And the fun has just begun." I mumble to myself.
A/N:
Anyone that's been here for a while, will probably recognize this one. Hope you're all staying happy and healthy.
