Brenna

My breasts are on full display for Ella, Melody, and Catina.

Chelsea Smith is in the corner. Her back is facing us and she's complaining about being left out. "I'm not a kid! We're all ladies here. Let's not contribute to the stigma about breasts. Hell, my breasts are bigger than most of yours!" She pauses, her voice turning sympathetic. "No offence, Melody."

"None taken," Melody chuckles. Her gaze drops to her flat chest. "Any jokes are a kick in the ass for breast cancer. It didn't take my life, so it deserves to be made fun of."

A round of grateful chuckles echoes through the spacious room. Watching Melody go through all those treatments for breast cancer without knowing if they'd work was stressful.

"But seriously!" Chelsea continues. "Why can't I help? I'll hold the dress in place."

"I could just wear a bra," I mutter. This is mortifying, but I need their help. Gauging how the dress will look when it's zipped up plays major role in the placement of my breasts. Not wearing a bra and using body tape instead makes things complicated.

Catina's mouth drops open. "So everyone can see the band of your bra? Fuck that, Brenna! The back of your dress dips low to show off your wicked back muscles. Not to see a gaudy, uncomfortable bra band that cuts into your skin."

I stick my tongue out at her. It's childish, but I'm feeling overwhelmed. Within the next hour, I'll be walking down the aisle.

"Brenna is marrying your brother," Ella says. She's holding a roll of transparent body tape. There's a piece of it sticking to her finger, the one end fluttering has she talks with rapid hand gestures. "She feels like you seeing her breasts would make things uncomfortable, as they're only meant for one set of Smith eyes. There's nothing about stigma here, Chels. Just family issues."

Chelsea snorts. "At least Shea and I would have something to talk about."

My cheeks turn pink, and I avert my gaze to the mirror. Sometimes, it's creepy how similar Shea and Chelsea are. She turned fourteen last month, and she's as stubborn and cocky as her brother was in high school, while also being a sweetheart. She's also ten times better at hockey than either of us were. Boys and girls in her class have nothing on her. With her smart mouth, kind heart, and outstanding hockey skills, Chelsea Smith is a force to be reckoned with. 

I stand in the middle of them, my wedding dress pulled down to my waist while the girls try to help me fix the body tape. There's one piece that won't adhere to my skin and hold my breast up. Catina's right. I can't wear a strapless bra. Not with this flawless dress and my hair and makeup, and the overall atmosphere tonight.

Chelsea snorts. "Stop adding to the stigma around nipples. You've already gone too far by covering them with tape. It's not—no, you know what?" She turns around and storms over to us. Her wavy blonde hair flashes beneath the lighting, and her silk robe swirls as she walks. She doesn't stop until she's standing behind me and holding the back of my dress up, near my lower back. This allows Melody to step away and join Ella and Cat before me.

"Does that make it easier?" Chelsea asks. "Now the three of you can analyze the situation together. Without me seeing anything."

The ladies in front of me exchange glances, but they don't speak another word about Chelsea being involved. Instead, they go back top discussing how I'm pulling this dress off without a gaudy bra on. I glance down at my breasts. They're not that big, and it's frustrating this tape isn't working.

At first, I wasn't uncomfortable with this. My friends helping me. We're a close-knit group of friends. I've seen plenty of extremities and heard plenty of descriptive stories. What embarrasses me is just standing here I'm doing nothing to contribute. And every time I move, Catina yells at me. Apparently, I need to stay still and stand square to them. Otherwise, one of my breasts will look wonky.

I feel like a fucking doll.

Ella takes a slow sip of her bubbly pink champagne. The roll of body tape hangs from her finger. "Melody, I think you need to join Chelsea in the back again. We'll slide the sleeves of Brenna's dress up her arms, but keep them loose. That way, Cat and I can get in there and make sure they're proportioned correctly."

Melody sets her crystal glass down on the coffee table. We're in a small room adjacent to where the ceremony and event is happening. We're at Chateau Vaudreuil, and the weather is on our side for the outdoor ceremony, where our backdrop will be a lake and willow trees that are burning with autumn colours. It has a very rustic-modern vibe, and the inside is no exception. The lights above are very industrial, but the wood beneath our feet is rustic, weathered with age. There are contradictions everywhere. When something looks rustic, there's another factor that looks industrial. It's a unique style, and I like it. Very contemporary.

While I'm admiring the room, Melody helps me slide my arms into the sleeves of my dress.

My bold and beautiful wedding dress, as Shea would say. He also says it suits my personality. It was the first dress I tried on, and he fell in love with it immediately. While I was in the same boat, I'll never admit it. It was too fun teasing him about which dress I'd choose. He got all worked up.

A smile curves across my lips, and I run my palms down the front of my dress. The neckline plunges in a sharp V, revealing the swell of my breasts and my smooth skin. The plunge stops just above my belly button, and beaded floral blooms embellish the sexiness and the mesh bodysuit underlining that provides a nude illusion. So while it looks like I'm wearing nothing beneath, I also feel secure and sexy. There's a removable tulle overskirt, which adds a dramatic illusion to the skirt of the dress. The sleeves are mesh, decorated with the beaded floral design, and the back of the dress also has a sharp, sexy plunge that stops at my lower back.

Catina smacks my hand away. "Quit moving! We have to get this right. This is becoming uncomfortable."

"Really?" I drawl, pointing to her hand on my breast. "This became uncomfortable ages ago. The only reason I'm letting you do this is because I'm frustrated. And when I'm frustrated, I'll half-ass the job." I expel a deep sigh. "Plus, it's too difficult to tape while knowing if they'll look okay in the dress."

Catina snorts and holds out her free hand. "Tape me, Ella."

Ella passes her a piece of transparent body tape.

"Okay," Cat says. "Tighten the fit a little, like you're about to zip it up."

Melody and Chelsea follow her orders. Chelsea partially zips the dress up so it's snug around my hips. Melody pulls the fabric at the shoulders back, but doesn't secure the small button at the nape of my neck.

Chewing on her cheek, Cat pushes my left breast up and adds the tape, smoothing it out for good measure. When she stops using her hand as additional support, everyone holds their breath, and I pray this works. I'm getting to where all I want to do is drink and forgo the planned wedding. Just get drunk, get married, and return to the hotel room, where Shea will willingly fuck me. Kind of like one of those shotgun weddings in Las Vegas.

Catina cocks her head to the side as she adjusts the fabric of the dress. "Your right breast looks funny. I think we need to readjust it. You need a little more oomph."

My eyebrow shoot up. "Oomph?"

She nods. The corner of her mouth twitches.

"Cat..." Ella says.

She shushes her.

I ignore them, turning to the mirror. Staring at my reflection, I have to disagree. The first time they tried this, my breasts looked funny. Not anymore. They're up high enough and showing off just enough skin.

My gaze meets Catina's in the mirror. "No. I think this is perfect. I look beautiful and my breasts look fucking amazing."

Catina and Ella exchange a glance. Then they burst out laughing.

"Bridezilla has spoken," Cat laughs. "For the record, Brenna, I was joking. You look amazing and your breasts are taped properly. You can't see the tape, and they look great. Shea will be rocking blue balls all night."

My mouth drops open, and I grab a pillow from the armchair next to the mirror, tossing it at her. "Fuck you! I am a laid-back bride. Don't deny it."

Melody steps into the mirror beside me, and secures the button at the nape of my neck. Her sparkly grey dress looks stunning with her white-blonde hair and peachy skin. "You look perfect, Brenna. And you are not a bridezilla. Shea was more temperamental than you were. Remember him teasing Kal about not being the Best Man?"

I roll my eyes. Shea nearly started a war between himself and KJ when he pretended he was choosing Jayden. It took weeks for KJ to forgive Shea—even if it was a joke.

Melody does her best to mimic KJ's voice. "You don't joke about shit like this, Smith! Especially when your best friend has been shipping the couple since they were kids. You're fucked in the head, man."

We all burst into a fit of giggles. Shea and KJ fought like kids. Their argument was so immature, and just the overall tension between them. Shea was kissing KJ's ass for weeks before KJ agreed to be the Best Man.

"They're hilarious," Ella sighs. "I love them together. They're like brothers."

It's been great to see Ella and Melody become quick friends. Same with KJ and Ella again. Now that their lives have gone in different directions, they act like they used to, but without the romance involved. Plus, Melody and Ella love to tease KJ.

"They are," I nod. "One night, we'll have to get together and drink gin. There are lots of stories I can tell."

"Deal," Melody laughs.

"All right," Chelsea says. She appears by my side, holding my earrings. "Final touches! We're so close to showtime!"

A crease forms between Ella's brows. "Don't you need something blue and something borrowed and all that shit?"

I shake my head. Shea and I are against traditional wedding customs. Okay... maybe not against. But we just don't see the point. This is our wedding. We want it to align with ourselves and everything we represent. For example, we've been wearing our wedding rings since he proposed, despite not being married. Shea received a lot of questions from the media, but he was lax about it.

When you know, you know. Brenna and I don't need the binding laws of marriage to justify our feelings for each other. We don't need rings for the representation. However, society makes it their need to know what is occurring in our lives. This ring is for the people not in this relationship, to tell them Brenna and I are exclusive to each other.

My heart turns mushy. He'd been wearing his hat backwards during that post-game interview with the media. His cheeks were flushed and the tufts of hair sticking out from beneath the hat were curled from his sweat. And the smile on his face when he said that? It's a smile that's reserved for me, and only me.

"Shea and I have our own customs," I reply.

All day, I've been holding onto the arcade ring I gave Shea at Scandia years ago. It was one of the turning points in our relationship. It balances in the palm of my hand as I show the girls. "This is all I need.

Chelsea's expression brightens. "I remember that! You gave it to Shea. He wore it for weeks upon weeks before carrying it around in his wallet."

"That's right!" Cat says. "I remember that!"

Ella nods.

I shoot an apologetic glance at Melody, who looks confused. Although she knows the story about Shea and I, there are minor details she's not aware of.

"Shit!" Cat curses. "We need to get changed into our dresses!" She pushes Chels and Ella toward the conjoined room, where their dresses are hanging. "The earrings can wait for a moment!"

They leave Melody and I behind, and after I've finished the story, Melody wrinkles her nose while smiling. "That is adorable. Sounds like something you and Shea would do. But what's even cuter is that you still have the ring."

I glance down at it, smiling. My vision goes blurry for a moment, and I have to blink several times. Ella will kill me if I ruin the makeup she's applied. "He doesn't know I have it. I found it in his nightstand, tucked away with the receipt from our first date. Shea hates to admit it, but he gets nostalgic a lot. It messes with his head a little. Not in a bad way, but sometimes he get stuck and I have to pull him out."

Melody nods. "Kal does that, too. He regrets not intercepting the bet and putting an end to it the day it started."

My heart aches a little. KJ can be an oaf, but his heart is solid gold. "He doesn't beat himself up over it, does he?"

"No. He thinks about it to remind himself who he wants to be. What he wants to stand for. He and Shea are similar. They're always trying to be better people. Better allies to women. Especially in the hockey world."

My lips tug up into a smile. Her words couldn't be truer. I give her a nudge. "When do you think he'll propose?"

"Soon, I hope," Mel sighs. She glances at her left hand. It's void of any rings. "Now that I've recovered and my tests continue to come back clean, I feel ready. He doesn't need to propose, but I want this." She gestures to my wedding dress and the area surrounding us. "I want an extravagant wedding where I proclaim my love for Kaleb Jones. Just as much as I want to have babies with him."

I press a hand over my mouth stifling a giggle. "Can you imagine KJ as a dad? He'd be such a pushover. Always giving in to puppy-dog eyes and caving when they ask for chocolate."

Melody giggles, a strand of her white-blonde hair tangling with her lashes. "He would be! Which will suck because I'll have to be the strict parents the kids will hate." She rolls her eyes. "They'll use chocolate to weaken him, Brenna. That dude can't stay away from chocolate."

Before I can respond to Melody, with a comment about Shea's weakness for sour keys, Chelsea enters the room. She's wearing her dress now, and she's carrying the earrings their mom gave to me. "I know you and Shea don't like the regular traditions, but you have to wear these earrings. They look amazing paired with your dress. Besides, my mom gave them to you."

There's no disagreeing with Chelsea. The simple pearl earrings add elegance to my look. Plus, everyone will see them.

Passing the arcade ring to Melody, I accept the earrings from Chelsea and put them in. Then I gaze at my reflection in the mirror.

My dark brown hair is tied up in a loose French twist, and white roses and baby's breath are intertwined into it. A light dusting of blush coats my cheeks, and my makeup is simple: mascara, a thin outline of black eyeliner, and gloss on my lips.

Beneath the dim lighting, my dress looks dramatic.

I look dramatic.

"Oh my god!"

We turn around, and I see Paisley standing in the doorway. Cadence and Margaux are behind her, carrying our flower arrangements. Ella is at the door (I don't recall hearing them knock, but my attention was elsewhere), holding it open as the ladies walk in. They're dressed in black pants and white tops with name tags to make them look professional. Paisley is carrying my bouquet. It's a beautiful arrangement of lavender, baby's breath, and sunflowers, which contrast beautifully with my dress and the theme of the wedding.

"Your dress looks amazing!" Paisley exclaims.

A smile splits my face. "Thank you. The flowers look amazing, too."

Paisley waves off my comment and saunters over to me, handing me the flowers. "Are you ready for the big day?"

I nod, despite my nerves being on edge. I'm not nervous about marrying Shea. It's all I've wanted since we reunited. What I'm nervous about is making a fool of myself while walking down the aisle.

I'm walking down the aisle alone. I've never liked the idea of a man passing off a woman to another man. It objectifies women. People will disagree with me, but I don't care. That's my perception of it. And I will not allow someone to pass me along to another man. I'm not an object people can own. I am a human being who has their own mind, body, and soul. Which is why I'm walking down the aisle alone. The decision to marry Shea came from my love for him. My decision to unite with him.

"I've been ready for a while," I admit.

Melody passes the ring back to me, and I secure it to my bouquet by knotting it with the twine holding the bouquet together. Then, with my free hand, I take Paisley's and squeeze it. "Thank you so much, Paisley. For everything. The flowers and the cake. The venue suggestion. Everything."

Her smile is warm. "You're welcome. You and Shea were wonderful to work with. If you're ever in Montréal again, call us."

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door, nullifying my chances of continuing our conversation. When I glance at the clock, I realize time is creeping up on us. We need to get things rolling, otherwise I'll be late for my wedding.

"Come in!" Cat shouts.

My heart squeezes as my uncle-slash-old-coach steps inside. His hair is peppered with grey and his suit is tailored to perfection. It's bittersweet to see him.

My father never recovered from his drug addiction. He overdosed and died in the streets just after I graduated from UBC. It was saddening, but there was never a connection between us—even though we tried. My dad was too toxic and spending time with him caused all my progress with my eating disorder to become null. He only wanted a relationship with me because I had money, and that was not good for my mental health.

We (my family and I) tried to get him help prior to his passing. Although addiction is a mental illness, there needs to be effort from both sides. My dad wasn't strong enough to try. He left the treatment centre after a month, resorting back to his old ways.

There was lots of grief and what-ifs, but I'm happy I still have pieces of him. I've gotten closer to his side of the family, as well as Uncle Aiden. Plus, I'm Randy Jameson's daughter. Despite all the damage and heartbreak, I'll always carry his DNA. I'll always carry the stories Mom has told me—the ones with wonderful memories.

Uncle Aiden smiles at me. "Is the bride ready?"

I nod, unable to prevent myself from grinning like a goof.

Uncle Aiden isn't walking me down the aisle, but it's nice to have him here as support.

Once again I look at Paisley. "Thank you, again."

She gives my arm a squeeze. "Have fun!"

Paisley, Margaux, and Cadence exit the room, leaving me, my friends, and Uncle Aiden behind.

With one last glance into the mirror, I grip my bouquet and take a deep breath, thumbing the plastic ring.

It's time for a wedding.