CHAPTER NINETEEN

MONÁE

( — janelle monáe; american singer, songwriter, rapper, actress, and producer. )

          "I AM FREAKING OUT!" Maia complains, running around the wedding venue almost at the speed of sound, and Selina has to sit down, dizzy from attempting to keep up with her friend. "Jesus Christ. This isn't happening. Selina, tell me this isn't happening and it's all an illusion created by my crippling fear of ruining my friends' wedding."

          "Well . . ." Selina begins, twirling her champagne flute. It might not be a good idea to pop open a champagne bottle this early, hours before the actual wedding, but she's empathetically stressed. That's what friendship is all about, even if Maia has to stay the hell away from alcoholic beverages . . . for now, at least. "Why not both? It's happening, but, realistically, it's probably not as bad or as serious as your brain is making it out to be."

          Maia throws her a murderous glare. "Shut up."

          "Sorry." Selina downs her champagne. Bottoms up. "Maia, I'm serious. Sit down for a minute and try to think clearly and reasonably—is this situation really impossible to solve or is your judgment clouded by panic?"

          Maia falls to the chair in front of her, defeated, and buries her head in her hands. "I'm a disaster. No one should have let me plan this wedding."

          "Okay, no. We're not doing this, Maia." Selina sets her cup aside and leans forward, wondering when the roles reversed and forced her to be the one to hand out pep talks like candy. "They asked you to plan their wedding, not only because you're their friend, but also because you're absolutely phenomenal at what you do. Mishaps happen and they're not your fault. Even if they were, there's nothing you can't fix, but you're not going to accomplish anything by sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself. The clock is ticking and time waits for no one."

          In reality, it's pretty bad.

          It all started a few hours earlier, back when Maia realized half of the flowers she had ordered hadn't been delivered. After calling the company, she was informed there had been a misunderstanding and her flowers had been shipped to another wedding, which left her with the wrong order—which didn't fit her plan at all.

          Selina doesn't know much about flowers, really, but a quick Google search told her Persian Buttercups didn't look that much different than roses; in her opinion, it was no big deal and, if the other wedding didn't complain about it, then they should just take the buttercups and move on.

          Maia still doesn't share the same opinion. Selina knows better than to try to convince her of it and has spent the last few hours working on damage control, which is mostly about keeping Maia calm before she goes berserk and smashes a vase or two.

          Maia's argument revolved around how flowers can make people's pollen allergies act up. Selina argued that all flowers can do that, which pissed Maia off even more and sent her into a tirade about how some flowers are worse than others, vaguely gesturing towards the bouquets of Baby's Breath (which, in Selina's opinion, is a horrible name for a flower) and Gerber daisies.

           Naturally, Beverly and Winona have no idea what's going on. The only reason why Selina knows about this situation is because Maia called her at seven in the morning, in sheer panic, and forced her to get out of bed a lot earlier than she was supposed to. It pained her, truly, but someone has to help.

          "How do we fix this, Selina?" Maia insists.

          "We keep the flowers," Selina suggests.

          "We can't," Maia whines. "They don't go with the décor and the allergies—"

          "Maia, it's either that or having empty spaces where the right flowers should be. Ethan's still at home; I can ask him to make and print some pamphlets to warn people about the switch so that they can stay away from specific locations. It's not the end of the world." Maia drops her hands and straightens, visibly interested. It's not a perfect solution by any means, but this should have been handled days in advance, not on the literal morning of the wedding. Naturally, Selina doesn't say this out loud. "It's okay. The wedding will go on as planned. No one will die."

          "You don't know that."

          "Neither do you, but, if you spend your entire life worrying about how someone could die in any possible scenario you find yourself in, you're going to limit yourself. You could roll out of bed, bang your head, and die. You can slip in the shower and die. Is there anywhere that's completely safe?"

          Maia presses her lips together. "No. Although I hate to admit it, you kind of have a point."

          "I know." Selina fills her champagne flute again. It's her third drink of the day and the party has yet to start, not to mention she hasn't even started getting ready for the wedding. "If I leave to the dressing room, will you be okay on your own? Promise you won't freak out?"

          "No promises." Maia takes a deep breath. "Go get ready. I'll let you know if something comes up." Selina springs up from her seat, champagne glass on one hand. "Please don't tell Beverly and Winona about this. Please. They'd never let me live it down."

          That's technically not true, but it's no use trying to convince Maia of it. Either way, Selina knows she'll be feeling a lot better once the wedding starts and people start showering her with compliments, the one true way to her heart, so she excuses herself and leaves, pulling her phone out of her purse to text Ethan.

SELINA LOCKE, 10:05 AM: Your services are required.

          ETHAN, 10:05 AM: AUTOMATIC MESSAGE: user unavailable. Try again later.

SELINA LOCKE, 10:05 AM: Ethan PLEASE I'M SERIOUS.

          ETHAN, 10:05 AM: Hi serious this is Ethan

          ETHAN, 10:06 AM: How can I help

SELINA LOCKE, 10:06 AM: I need you to make and print a few pamphlets to let people know there will be a ton of different flowers that can make some of their allergies act up.

SELINA LOCKE, 10:06 AM: I'M LITERALLY BEGGING YOU. Maia is freaking out.

SELINA LOCKE, 10:06 AM: I'll do your laundry for a week.

          ETHAN, 10:07 AM: I'm on it. Also: make that two weeks. LOVE YOU

          If that's what it takes to get him to help and to make this wedding go smoothly, considering all the stressful stuff that's going on, then fine. Selina retreats to the dressing room, where her dress and makeup are waiting for her, and prays that the flower scandal was the first and last thing to go wrong today.

          "DON'T YOU LOOK DASHING," Jersey compliments, pouring herself an incredibly generous glass of champagne. "You look great, too, Selina."

          "Thanks," Selina sighs. She's lightheaded from all the alcohol she's had so far (thanks, Maia) and every action is a chore, especially trying to not stain her wonderful dress with anything she eats or drinks. She's barely had time to breathe, let alone to eat something, and it's definitely a lot easier to drink than to eat—not that Maia has allowed anyone to grab a scone. "Where's Drew?"

          "Drew?" Ethan asks, tilting his head to the side. He looks incredible, even though Selina isn't shocked; there's even a turquoise pocket square peeking out of the breast pocket of his tuxedo. "Who's Drew?"

          "My date," Jersey clarifies, downing her drink, and reminding Selina they're related, because of course they are. Guess where Jersey gets her drinking habits from. "She's around. I just hope she doesn't get lost."

          Selina lets Ethan and Jersey chat for a while and tries to find Remus in the middle of the crowd. She doesn't leave her spot, mostly because she needs to occupy her place as a bridesmaid in less than five minutes, but she's also been having a great time mingling with the guests. Things have been uneventful so far—as in, no one has had too much to drink (yet) and no one has randomly started arguing, so everything is chill.

          For whatever reason, Michaela and Lincoln decided to attend the wedding. They keep to themselves, hanging out with Jillian and Lennox, and Selina notices they didn't bring baby Elizabeth Tate-Calloway with them. It makes sense that they wouldn't fly across the country with a one-month-old baby, but they did so just for a wedding and left the kid at home.

          Selina isn't judging them. They could certainly use some time to relax.

          "Get to your places!" Maia yells, running across the aisle and startling everyone on her way. Jersey sets her glass aside, makes her way towards Drew, and disappears into the middle of the crowd, while Selina joins Maia by the altar, standing to the right of the flower-decorated arch. She's lucky she's not allergic. "Hit it!"

          That's not something you usually say to a pianist, but the dude sitting at the grand piano nods and starts playing. Selina takes a deep breath, Jillian switches her weight from one leg to the other, and Maia looks seconds away from throwing up.

          Selina wonders if she shouldn't have handed her a glass of champagne after all.

          The doors open just as she locks eyes with Remus. He has enough time to wink at her before turning around to face the creaking sound and then all eyes are on Winona, who looks absolutely angelic. Selina has never been religious, but she's pretty certain this is what God looks like.

          Winona's wedding dress hugs her figure, the sweetheart neckline made slightly more modest by the transparent fabric covering the skin right below her collarbones, and the long tail is carried by all three of her cousins. She walks arm in arm with her father, who looks about to burst into happy tears, and carries her bouquet in her free hand. She smiles delicately at the people whose eyes she catches, with each of her steps matching the melody playing.

          "You look stunning, sweetheart," her father whispers, once they're standing by the altar, and pulls her into a tight hug. "I hope this is everything you've ever dreamed of."

          "It's better," she replies. "It's so much better."

          A few moments later, it's time for Beverly. It's mostly her they came to see, really, with the wedding having been the talk of the town (if social media was a town) for the past couple of months, and people speculated about the veracity of the engagement, what dress she was going to wear, who she was inviting, and all that crap that is none of her business.

          All Selina cares about is her happiness—both hers and Winona's. So, when Beverly takes her first steps into the venue, wearing a wedding dress that makes her look like she belongs in a fairy tale, decorated with lace roses and delicate vines, Selina nearly collapses. The look Beverly throws Winona, all the way from the opposite end, is so full of love it makes her body temperature go up several degrees.

          "Hello, pretentious people of Los Angeles and other assorted guests," Cameron announces. Maia groans, probably wondering about why in the world she let him convince her that he'd be the best officiant they could possibly book. He got his license online just in time for the wedding, arguing it made sense, for whatever reason. "We're here to celebrate the union of two of my close friends. I know you're all waiting for the vows, the kiss, and the booze, but I'll have to ask you to chill. This is an important ceremony, after all.

          "I know there aren't two identical love stories, but I know a thing or two about them. The two women standing in front of me have gone through their ups and downs, their highs and lows, and they've certainly gone through hell, but they never left each other's side. They fought to get here. Like, that's love. You know when it is because you fight to make it work—you take what has been trying to destroy you and turn it around so it works in your favor. That's what they have been doing.

          "With that being said, if there's anyone opposed to their union, please, speak now so I can shove this microphone up your—"

          "Anyway!" Maia chimes in, her voice an octave higher than usual, and the audience chuckles when Cameron blows her a kiss. "I believe the brides have prepared their own vows."

          Jillian's Golden Retriever trots towards them, carrying a small wooden basket. Inside it, there's a velvet cushion holding two golden wedding bands. Jillian's eyes fill with tears.

          "My sweet baby," she coos. "You're the best boy ever."

          "You're the girl of my dreams," Winona begins, taking one of the wedding bands. "Ever since the first day I met you, I knew you were going to turn my life upside down, yet you would never let go of my hand while doing so. I know the last year wasn't our best, but you never gave up—you never gave up on me, you never gave up on us. You're such an incredible person, Bev, and the world knows it. Most importantly, I know it. I know there's no one else in the world I'd want to share this journey with, and I want to be with you all the way. All the goddamn way, babe."

          Beverly sniffles. "You're worth more than any award. I've never been good at speeches"—she nods towards Jillian, who sticks her tongue out at her—"and, let's be honest, I've never been good at a lot of things. The one thing I know how to do better than anyone in this room and in the entire world is loving you. That's the one thing I've done right for years now, and it'll be the pleasure of a lifetime to continue doing it—for as long as you'll take me. If it's up to me, I'm never letting you go. Ever."

          "God, that was beautiful. Winnie—Winona," Cameron quickly corrects. "Do you take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and in health, in life and death, in good movies and bad movies?"

          "I do."

          "Phew!" He turns to Beverly, who already has the wedding band on. "Beverly. Do you take this woman—"

          "Hell yeah," Beverly interrupts, seconds away from bouncing on her toes, and slips the remaining wedding band into Winona's ring finger.

          "Alright then! By the authority vested in me by the Internet and the state of California, I now pronounce you wife and wife. Please, brides, kiss. I'm so hungry."

          Beverly doesn't wait to be told twice. She throws her arms around Winona's neck, nearly knocking her off balance, and presses her lips against hers, as though they're the only people in the room. They're quickly surrounded by thunderous applause, with rose petals falling all around her, and Selina has to channel all her energy into not bawling her eyes out.

          If they're not inspiring, then she doesn't know what is. In spite of all the missteps and the earthquakes, their love prevailed. That's one hell of a love story.

          Then, Beverly turns to face the crowd. "Now, who's ready to get this party started?"