Into You Series: The Complete Collection

38. Nia

CHAPTER 38

NIA

“ A re you nervous? You’re totally nervous.”

Ramona clutches Grace’s cheeks in her palms, staring into her eyes.

“I’ve been in love with Cameron since the day I met him, Ray. Okay, stop it.” She swats Ramona away. “You’re ruining my makeup.”

I sit on the chaise nearby in my peach bridesmaid dress, legs crossed. While it may not fit me as well as Corinne’s does her—she could have just walked off the runway in Paris—I suppose it doesn’t look too bad. It’s loose on the top as I expected, but my fully formed hips and ass make up for my lack of bongos.

A head pokes through the door, peering in The Shining -style. Except instead of a hole, it’s just a crack in the door. Much less menacing, especially since the face belongs not to a crazed Jack Nicholson, but to Grace’s mom, Lynette, who is on the verge of a breakdown.

“Oh god, I’m going to cry,” she says, though it looks like the threat of tears is far from gone. They fell hours ago.

“Mommm,” Grace groans.

Another head pokes in, chin resting on top of Lynette’s. It’s the lady whose been walking around with the chihuahua under her arm. She’s running the show, but honestly, I don’t think anyone granted her the role of coordinator. I think she just stole it, which makes me wonder if she stole that dog too.

“We’re ready for you!” she chimes. “Everyone is at the beach!”

Grace stands from her chair, smoothing out the bunches in her dress. It’s a beautiful mermaid gown, tight along her waist and hips then cascading out behind her in an elegant tulle train. Her illusion neckline gives the appearance of a strapless dress with lace trailing up her chest and disappearing just beneath her shoulders. Her fierce red hair is pulled into a tight ballerina bun with strands loosened to frame her face, and she’d fit right in on the pages of any high fashion bridal feature.

“Good, let’s get this party rolling,” Grace says.

Ramona swings open the cracked door, and both women and dog tumble in.

At the sight of her daughter, Lynette lets out a sound that’s a mix between a moaning whale and a yowling cat, throwing her palm over her eyes and swatting at us to disregard her. Grace raises an eyebrow to us. “Okay, well, um, yeah…let’s just get going. I’ve got a prince to marry.” This only makes her mom howl louder.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this!” Ramona says, clapping with each word. The other lady mirrors the clapping, shaking the small dog under her arm. It lets out a low growl in irritation. Ramona sticks out her tongue.

“Don’t taunt the dog,” Grace whispers.

“It taunted me first.”

We all crowd out of the room, crossing the resort foyer and trailing down the short wooden pier with Grace’s mom wailing through tears the entire way.

Ahead we see the rows of white resin folding chairs and, just past them, an arch with the officiant, the groom, and the groomsmen. Ian towers half a foot over Cameron. His black hair is thick and curled with one dangling strand resembling a sexy Clark Kent, which I’m sure would annoy him if it were pointed out. Or maybe he would even crack a joke at how he’s just as wonderful as the Man of Steel himself. I bet it would be just funny enough to make me roll my eyes. I relish the thought.

I’m the first to walk down the aisle, and a small iris bouquet is shoved in my hands by the dog lady seconds before my feet step off the wooden pier onto the shifting sand.

I don’t know whose idea it was to have this ceremony far from the shore, but they clearly did not understand how beaches work. We’re in the soft sand and the legs of each chair are slowly sinking. Guests are gripping the sides, trying to right them, but every movement only makes the seats more lopsided. I can’t help but smile, and when I look up, Ian is smiling back at me.

My left foot sinks a bit but I continue on as if I didn’t just semi-trip down the aisle. Ian winks, and for a moment I consider that this could be my future. One day, I might be walking toward Ian not in a peach dress, but in a white one. A guitar might be playing in the background just as the ukulele is now. Maybe there will be violins, and perhaps I’ll be staring into his blue eyes, getting that boyish grin flashed back at me.

The decision to like Ian was made for me years ago; I just needed to let it happen. Just like the sand around me, my desire for him has been getting deeper and deeper minute by minute and year by year. The only thing time will change is just how deep my affection goes.

I take a left at the front, settling at my designated spot near the end as Corinne then Ramona line up beside me. They balance their way through the sand like I did, but when the ukulele changes its tune and Grace starts down the aisle, I notice she had enough sense to take off her heels.

She walks down the aisle arm in arm with her mother, though while Grace looks elegant and demure, her mom is tripping through the sand on wedged sandals with leaking mascara and a trembling bottom lip.

The ceremony commences and I angle myself inward as directed by the self-appointed coordinator and her yapping dog, who is probably the real brains behind the operation. When Cam’s eyes fall on Grace, his wide, dimpled grin could light up the entire beach.

When it’s time for vows, there’s no sign of apprehension or fear. Grace simply provides a quick, decisive, “I do.”

It’s difficult for me to believe our lives are dictated by fate or a series of uncontrollable circumstances. In fact, this very moment—right here standing in what feels like quicksand—is the result of thirty-five years’ worth of carefully thought-out decisions obsessively mulled over in excruciating detail. But what if destiny is the true puppeteer? What if Grace and Cam were destined to meet, no matter what obstacles blocked them, employee-manager relationship be damned? If destiny is the true world power, I can tell it knew exactly what it was doing with those two.

When the officiant announces their full married name for the first time, Cameron and Grace embrace each other and we all clap.

The wedding party files out, trying our best to maintain balance. As I’m the last one, I have no groomsman to escort me, but I don’t mind. I look ahead at the woman in white and her grinning man.

I wonder if destiny brought me here to open my eyes to what life can be like when you let go. Maybe now is finally the time for me to relax, enjoy the world, and for once, not be in control, but instead roll with the waves of the ocean.

You can’t control every aspect of your life. And maybe you don’t need to.