Taking the bride

ROMANCE/ALPHA MALE

When I step on the bus, the driver and a group of gray-haired ladies give me odd looks. My cheeks turn a little pink under their scrutiny. With a sigh, I pick up my big white skirt and walk to the back of the bus. As I sit down, which is more difficult than it should be thanks to my aforementioned gigantic skirt and excessively long train, I hear the ladies’ faint whispers. I must look kind of strange, a bride on her own taking public transportation. The old ladies glance at me, their eyes full of pity. They probably think I’m either a runaway bride or a woman who just got jilted at the altar. I want to tell them I’m neither; I only ended up having to take the bus because my mother couldn’t pick me up in her car, which she (of course) told me at the last minute. The reason why? She wanted to go to Aldi’s; apparently, there’s a too-good-to-miss sale on wine and cheese. I love my mom dearly, but she is an eternal pain in the ass. As a result, I hopped on the bus because I damn well can’t be late to my own wedding.

But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t think the old ladies would want to hear about my woes and they would probably still end up thinking I was ditched at the altar. Like what kind of mother doesn’t drive her daughter to her wedding because of a sale at Aldi’s? Even I would think that I was making up a ridiculous lie.

Twenty minutes later, it’s time for me to get off the bus. The gray-haired ladies raise their eyebrows when I lift up my skirt and reveal my white-and-green sneakers and matching socks. I’m not actually going to wear sneakers to my wedding, I want to tell them. I only put them on because there was no way I would have been able to catch the bus in my white heels. Though I am tempted to leave them on when I’m walking down the aisle; with my dress being so long, no one could see my shoes anyway. Why not spare my feet a little bit of pain?

A smile forms on my face as I approach the Sapphire Bracelet Hotel — aka the place where I’m going to get married to Christopher Harrington, my fiance of two years and the man I love. I nearly run to the hotel; that’s how excited I am. But I resist the impulse; I don’t want to be a sweaty mess on my wedding day. So I walk. Briskly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something that makes me lift my eyebrows. Behind…

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