him had been enough for her to realize just how much she had missed him.
She had talked to Richelle about closure. She had told herself for nine months that she had dodged a bullet by not marrying Lawrence. But now, as she sauntered back into the restaurant, hugging her torso, all she felt was conflicted and uncertain.
Melanie recognized herself in the Richelle who had been sobbing in the bathroom. The difference was, Richelle was going to go through with her wedding. She wasn’t running scared. She trusted her love for Roy.
Why hadn’t Melanie been able to trust Lawrence’s love?
She was far from convinced that she’d made the right decision. In fact, she couldn’t stop thinking that she’d made the biggest mistake ever when she’d let Lawrence go.
Chapter 7
Melanie didn’t see Lawrence at all the rest of that day, but she spent much of the night dreaming about making love to him, and awoke in a state of arousal. Quickly, she glanced at the other side of the bed, and found it empty. For which she was glad. She didn’t want to think that she’d done anything to embarrass herself with Richelle there to bear witness.
She glanced around the room, and then saw that Richelle was standing on the patio overlooking the ocean. Melanie got out of bed and went outside to join her.
“Hey,” Melanie said brightly, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand. “Morning.”
Richelle didn’t face her. She continued to look forward at the vast turquoise waters. “You stand here, being still, taking the time to see what’s around you, and you realize you are one small part of a big world. A beautiful world.” She faced Melanie. “How can you be afraid in a place like this? Everything is calm, peaceful. It’s stunning, isn’t it?”
“If ever there was a description of paradise, this is it,” Melanie said.
“It’s a perfect day.” Richelle sniffled and reached for Melanie’s hand. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Yes, it is. It couldn’t be more perfect.”
“My wedding day.” Richelle sighed contentedly. “It’s finally here.”
“You ready?”
“Absolutely.” Richelle beamed. “I’ll never be more ready.”
A surge of emotion washed over Melanie as she remembered the contrast of how she had felt on the morning of her wedding. Crippled by fear.
Melanie squeezed Richelle’s hand. “Then let’s go do this.”
* * *
As Melanie, Richelle and the rest of the official party began to get ready, Melanie was able to push thoughts of Lawrence aside. She was too busy to obsess over him, and it was time for her to be there for Richelle as her maid of honor.
With Richelle’s makeup and hair done and sleeveless princess-style dress on, Melanie’s eyes filled with happy tears. “Wow, Richelle. You look gorgeous. Seriously, you are the most beautiful bride. Ever.”
Richelle’s chest heaved with a shaky breath. “Thanks, Mel.”
Richelle, Melanie and the bridal party were in a special wedding bure, from where the wedding procession would begin. Melanie and Richelle were side by side in front of a standing mirror framed in bamboo wood, staring at their reflections.
“You’re the princess you wanted to be,” Melanie said. “A princess on your fairy-tale day.”
Melanie was wearing a beautiful red dress made of satin that swooped low over her breasts, and hung to the floor. The two other bridesmaids were wearing similar dresses. The gown defined Melanie’s shape, and she found herself thinking that if Lawrence could see her now, he wouldn’t be able to resist her.
“The flowers on my veil don’t seem right,” Richelle said, pulling Melanie from her thoughts.
“Here,” Melanie said, and adjusted the crown of white flowers so that it was symmetrical. “There you go. Better?”
Richelle checked out her reflection, and nodded. “Thank you. I guess we should finally take the official pictures. David has been patiently waiting.”
Moments later, David, the photographer, was taking photos of the bridal party. When Melanie wasn’t in a photo, she stood to the side and watched, not sure she had ever seen Richelle smile so brightly.
While Richelle and Roy had declined to dress in the style of a traditional Fijian bride and groom, they had opted for other touches native to Fiji. Richelle wore a lei of fresh flowers around her neck in addition to the veil adorned with flowers. Soon, the choir would begin singing wedding songs. And Melanie especially couldn’t wait to see Richelle escorted to the beach by Fijian warriors.
“Those pictures are going to be amazing,” Melanie said when they were done. She fussed with the curls hanging at the side of Richelle’s face. “And you’re glowing. Everyone should get married in a place like this. It just seems so right. I look around here and the setting is so romantic, so meant for love.”
Richelle sniffled. Her eyes were moist again. “Do I have everything I need? I have something old, something new, something borrowed—”
“You have everything,” Melanie assured her. “But most importantly, you have your man waiting out there on the beach, thrilled about making you his wife.”
“You’re right. I have the man of my dreams, and I have my best friend here.” She grinned at Melanie. “I have everything I need.”
“Are you ready?” the wedding planner, Maria, asked.
Melanie looked at Richelle, deferring to her. Then Richelle nodded and said, “Yes. Tell them to start the music.”
Moments later, the cheerful sounds of the Fijian choir drifted from the beach to the wedding bures. And the wedding procession began.
Though Melanie had had no idea how a wedding in a tropical location would play out, that moment exceeded every dream she could have had. As she made her way barefoot in the sand toward the beach, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Roy beaming with pride and expectation.
I should have had this moment, she told herself, trying to hold back the sudden urge to cry. I should have had this moment when I got to see Lawrence standing at the altar, excited to see me as his soon-to-be bride.
Somehow, Melanie kept it together as she took her place on the bride’s side of the altar. Once the last bridesmaid made her way down the sand, the sounds of the choir became softer and more romantic, and the guests were beckoned by the wedding planner to stand.
Everyone looked on in anticipation. And after several seconds, the bride emerged. Six men dressed as Fijian warriors, with green skirts made of the leaves of banana plants, carried her to the beach on a bamboo raft. Cell phone cameras began going off. David quickly began to take shot after shot.
It was magical. And when the bride and groom exchanged their personal vows, there wasn’t a dry eye among the guests.
* * *
