Dear Future Ex-wife

Nate makes me happy.

“Told you,” Callie says to Jules. “I knew she would fall for him.”

Before I can protest, the wedding planner steps into the suite and says, “Ladies, we’re ready for you.”

My heart pounds like crazy. This is it, the moment of truth. I’m about to marry Nate, and there’s no turning back. Carl Voss and his wife flew in for the occasion. All of our family and friends are in attendance except for our deadbeat mothers. My mom claimed she was needed in the South of France for some charity shit she probably made up. Nate’s mom was the first to decline our invite, most likely on another trip with her boy toy of the month spending her alimony check.

Jules must sense my nerves because she hands me a flute of champagne. “You look like you could use this.”

“One foot in front of the other,” Lola says. “But in case you fall and break a heel, I got you covered.” She holds up an extra pair of the same heels I’m wearing.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Callie hooks her arm through mine. Willow takes the other.

“Time to go, Mrs. King?” Willow says.

“That sounds so weird to me.”

Callie pats me on the back. “You better get used to it.”

Willow and Callie escort me out of the room, with Jules, Lola, and Amelia in tow. We follow the wedding planner down the hallway and into the elevator. Once we’re in a private room on the ground floor, two event coordinators are at our sides, talking into their earpieces.

French doors open up to an incredible space that overlooks the ocean. White chairs with turquoise bows fixed at the back are lined up on both sides of the makeshift aisle. Beautiful Caribbean flowers round out the space, creating the perfect scenery. The one I had imagined years ago. It amazes me how quickly everything came together, and on short notice. Nate promised me the dream wedding, and he delivered. He made it special, perfect.

Waves break on the shore from a distance. The sounds are so calming I instantly begin to relax. I peek my head outside, and Nate takes my breath away. Dressed in a white tuxedo, a turquoise shirt, and a matching flower pinned to his breast pocket, Nate stands with his groomsmen. He has his head down, fiddling with his cufflinks. His brother, waiting patiently at his side, pats him on the shoulder. He turns his head to whisper into Nate’s ear.

Is Nate nervous?

He looks jumpy, instead of his usual cool, calm, and collected. The guys are lined up, with the minister front and center, clutching a Bible. My dad exchanges a few words with my godfather, and then he heads down the aisle toward me. Nate looks in my direction. I take a few steps back, out of his line of sight. I don’t want him to see me until the music starts, not until I take my walk.

“The father of the bride is ready,” the wedding planner announces.

Dad fixes his lapels and then his eyes travel over my gown and up to my face. “You look beautiful, Harley. You remind me so much of your mother.”

He claims my mother was the love of his life. But I have always had a hard time believing it. His actions showed otherwise. The real love of his life is his work.

I flash a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

He extends his arm to me.

Seconds later, the music starts.

Our guests turn their heads in our direction.

A photographer snaps dozens of pictures of my bridesmaids. The girls look beautiful in the turquoise wrap dresses. Since my hair is down, the girls chose up-dos with little shells tucked into their curls. As my maid-of-honor, Callie is last to walk down the aisle. She glances over her shoulder and blows me a kiss, and then she’s off.

Panic sets in when it’s just my dad and me. The wedding planner looks to us for approval. I tip my head and within seconds, the song changes. My skin burns from the nervous energy shooting through my body. Dad must feel me tremble, because he clutches my arm tighter. I hope I don’t need Lola’s extra pair of shoes. If I fall flat on my face, I will die of shame. I recognize some of my co-workers and business associates in the crowd. My grandmother, who looks good for eighty-five, is dressed to the nines. She’s with Aunt Penelope, who also looks like a million bucks in a thin, flowery dress.

Nate stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. His expression is soft but unreadable. He looks lost in his thoughts, his handsome face like perfectly crafted stone. Our walk down the short aisle feels like it’s taking an eternity, though in reality it only took twenty seconds.