Scenario: Weddings can be nightmares.

For context, this was what I wanted one of the previous chapters to be. Mature language and brush with mature themes.


"Are you sure you don't want me to help you with your hair?"

"Yes, yes! Don't worry about me! I'm not the bride!" Emma groaned. "Go help Gia! She's the one getting married!"

Noah, Orion, and Troy exchanged bored looks as they all turned back to Emma shooing away yet another hairdresser looking for someone's hair to do.

"Do you boys really want to be here? It's really busy, and I know you all are bored-"

"Ms. Goodall! Quick!" a random person ran into the room out of breath. "Did the Moran family want yellow or white flowers?"

"They probably wanted yellow, but relax," she laughed. "The last thing they'll be worrying about are the flower colors, and I know you didn't become a wedding planner's assistant just to decide flower colors."

"You're right, you're right! Thanks so much!" the anxious planner hurriedly ran away. "Yellow! How could I be so stupid?"

"Anyway," Emma turned back around, sitting on the armrest of the loveseat Troy was lying in, his head now resting against her leg and his legs hanging over the edge of the seat's opposite armrest, "why don't you boys go home until later today? We're still setting up."

"Oh c'mon, Emma!" Orion exclaimed all of the sudden. "It's my first wedding, and we're all here to support you. Being the Bride of Honor is a big responsibility on your own."

"Maid of Honor, Orion," Noah corrected, "and he's right, Emma. You look so stressed, and you're not even dressed up. Look at us! We're already in our tuxes."

She looked down at her own outfit, a simple full-length romper to substitute for her gown while she worked.

"Yeah, I'll have to get ready soon, huh? Strange that it's Jake and Gia's big day, and I'm probably more stressed than I've ever been."

Troy sat up on the tiny couch and patted the seat next to him for Emma to sit in, and she couldn't refuse such an amazing offer.

"We're here, Em. Anything you need, we'll take care of it-"

"Emma! No time to sleep!" one of Gia's second cousins huffed, hands on her hips. "Your gown has been collecting dust for two hours now! So stop cuddling with your hunky boyfriend, and get dressed!"

"Oh, he's not my-"

"Doesn't matter who he is! By the end of the night, you both'll be sexing it up anyway! Get up! Get up!"

Emma sighed and got to her feet, watching as two designers (one of them looking strangely like Stanley Tucci) shuffled in with a peach-colored gown.

"Turn around boys!" Gia's second cousin commanded, glaring at them as they immediately faced away. "No time for her to find a changing room! God knows all of them are already filled with either emotional or drunk bridesmaids. Emma, we'll work on your makeup later, by the way."

Emma's phone rang, and as soon as one of her arms found itself in the dress, she picked up the ringing device.

"Hello? Gia? Ripped veil- what are you saying? I can't hear you- ow!"

Noah and Orion, exhausted just from watching and hearing the madness around them that day, retracted their supportive statements from earlier, got up, and left.

"Sorry, needle accidentally poked through the dress," a designer apologized.

"Missing veil? Gia, it's okay. Remember, your veil isn't the reason why people are coming to your wedding. Your veil isn't getting marri- wow, you're already done?"

"All done. You look beautiful," the Stanley Tucci lookalike beamed. "Beautiful."

Troy couldn't help it when his heart skipped a beat. Any feelings he had already harbored were trying to keep from bursting at the seams now when he saw her. Stanley Tucci was right. She looked absolutely beautiful.

"Great! No, no, Gia, it isn't great that your veil is gone," Emma sighed as the cousin and designers left. "You found the veil? On top of a wall painting- okay, okay. No crying! Remember, no tears. Attagirl."

Hanging up and placing her phone back on the table, she fell back into place next to Troy, turning to him. He, too, turned to her with a smile.

"Maybe 'sexing it up' will get rid of all this stress, Lover Boy," she joked.

He chuckled and put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

"You're doing great, Em. Just great."


Emma knew that the wedding was perfect in Gia's eyes, even if she had seen the amount of anxiety that had actually held up the event. The faces of the designers, hairdressers, and makeup artists as the bridesmaids and bride walked down the aisle. The faces of the guests as they saw the decorations and venue. The face of the bartender when people came back for another drink (possibly because seeing two people in love was too much to handle sober).

She knew just in how others responded to the big day how well she had done as the Maid of Honor, and if she was being honest, Troy was right. She had done a great job. Save for when one of the bridesmaids tripped on a step and broke a shoe heel, but Emma would gladly black that out of her memory willingly.

Nighttime fell upon the celebration, and guests were getting tipsy and in the mood for dancing. Emma, on the other hand, was waiting for the perfect moment to take off her shoes and massage her poor soles.

"Em?" Troy sat down next to her.

"Hey," she sighed of relief. "Thank goodness you're here."

"You know, you've been doing an amazing job the entire day. I saw you."

"I'm really happy with how today turned out. They both look happy. But seriously, Troy, I'm so glad you're here."

She took his hand and squeezed it.

"I'd probably pass out if you weren't here," she quickly included.

"Pass out if you still want to. I'll be here to take you home. By the way, are your feet hurting?"

"Yeah, a lot. How come you're asking?"

"I was reading a magazine once-"

"A magazine? My big, strong Red reading a magazine?"

"Long story. Another time," he grinned. "And I think the magazine said that you should bring a pair of extra shoes if you're wearing heels to a wedding."

"Troy, please tell me what I think you're about to tell me."

"I brought your Converse," he grinned, lifting a small, pink bag that carried her shoes. "Want to wear them?"

Emma nodded, biting her lips to keep from laughing hysterically from happiness. He helped her to put on her socks after she quickly massaged the reddened areas, and when her feet were finally in her Converse, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding the entire night.

"Are you feeling better?" he tucked a loose hair behind her ear.

"Troy?" she asked, and he nodded intently. "I have never been more turned on by you before. Am I turned on? Yes, all the time! But this much? I'd screw you right now, hands down."

"Em?"

"Yeah?"

"You look beautiful."

Emma couldn't help but... giggle. A happy giggle resonating from her genuine happiness and love for the man in front of her.

"I love you, Troy."

"I love you, too, Em."

"Are you weirded out that I told you that?"

"Nope."

"Even though we're at a wedding?"

"Even though we're at a wedding."


"Excuse me, ma'am," a sharply-dressed man grabbed Emma's attention, "I saw you earlier during the wedding and couldn't help but notice how great you look. Do you want to dance?"

Frankly, Emma didn't want to dance. She wanted to keep holding Troy's hand under the table as they took turns drinking from the same Coke can. She wanted to keep her left leg on top of his own legs (he told her to put hers up there, and she found the position too comfortable to take her leg away), and she wanted more than anything to just kiss the boy until the night was over.

But out of courtesy, she had to reply, "Sure, sounds great. Can we just do one dance? My feet are actually really paining."

"Yeah," the guy mindlessly replied as he dragged her by the forearm to the dance floor.

"I saw how bored you looked with that guy over there and knew it was my job to take you away from him," the man yelled in her face over the music when they started dancing. "Besides, I know a sexy woman like you belongs on the dance floor with a man like me."

Emma was beginning to feel uncomfortable and tried to pull away, and, confirming her suspicions, the recognizable stench of alcohol drifted from his breath. He wouldn't her go, though, all until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Buddy, let go of her," Troy sighed, annoyed. "Come here, Emma."

Emma pushed herself out of the drunk man's painful grip and half-ran to Troy, turning around to see the stranger walk away as if nothing had just happened.

"Em, do you actually want to dance?" Troy whispered in her ear for her to hear him over the music.

"Maybe once? But only with you," she clarified. "Only with you."

"You do realize that now I'm not letting anyone else lay a hand on you tonight. Besides, this is a slow dance, too, so just relax."

And the pink did just that, her head buried in his neck, both hands hugging his torso underneath his unbuttoned suit jacket. Her eyes were closing, eyelids getting heavier, and him humming along to the song only soothed her into a peaceful rhythm.

"I guess it's time to go home?" he chuckled.

She nodded, and he kissed the top of her head.

"You did perfect today. Just perfect."

"Hm," she sighed, her head moving to rest on his shoulder. "Love you, Troy."

"I love you, Em," he kissed her cheek.


"Oh, no! No, no! Emma, you're not going home!" Gia yelled. "Didn't we book a hotel for guests or something?"

Emma untied her hair, taking off any jewelry she hadn't already removed.

"Troy and I were hoping to go home-"

"And do what? Screw? You can do it in the hotel!"

"Why does everything think we're just trying to have sex-" Troy muttered.

"It's past midnight, Gia," Emma sighed. "We're both exhausted."

"But we're hours away from home, Emma. It'll take you guys all night," Jake started.

"We'll figure something out," Troy said. "We just want to get home. They're already starting to clean up the reception."

"Yeah, you're right. Go home. Rest," Gia surrendered. "Promise me you'll both make it home in one piece? Call as soon as you get back?"

"No offense, Gia, but you're probably spending all night doing something else more exciting than waiting for a phone call," Emma joked, and Gia nodded in agreement.

"You're not wrong, but just promise me you'll be safe."

Emma nodded, and once she and Troy had wished the happy couple a great marriage, they headed for the car.


The highway was almost completely empty, but one or two cars popped up every now and then to keep the duo company on the otherwise-lonely drive. Emma had dozed off for five minutes but shot straight back up to keep Troy company.

"Em, go to sleep. You're exhausted."

"Do you want to find a hotel somewhere? I don't want you staying up this late, and I guess I should've taken Gia up on that hotel offer."

"Well, funny thing is I was going to ask you if you wanted to find a hotel nearby. Should we do it?"

"Oh, definitely. I'm not letting you drive the entire night."

. . .

"And how many will be staying?" the receptionist asked.

"Just the two of us," Emma yawned, lifting up the sleeve of her dress yet again.

"When will you be checking out?"

"Tomorrow around noon, most likely."

"I can't help asking, but you both look really dressed up-"

"Wedding," Troy interrupted, yawning, too. "The drive home is way too long, and it's late."

"Oh! I love weddings. Well, here's your keycard, and I just wanted to say that you both look are really good-looking! Is that weird for me to say?"

"Yes," the two groaned, walking to the elevator.

The moment Troy unlocked the door, they both locked their gazes on the bed, making a beeline for it. Tossing themselves on the mattress, Emma felt tears of relief run down her face, and Troy let out the largest cry of satisfaction. Not a moment later, they had passed out.

When Troy woke up the next morning, his vision was clouded over, and his nose was overwhelmed with the scent of flowers. He felt the tightness of the formalwear he still had on, but he also felt tangled. Blinking a few more times to clear his vision, he found himself entangled with Emma as if the two of them had spent the entire night holding each other.

He looked down at her sleeping face, and satisfied that she was completely at peace, he kissed her forehead, brushing away any hair on her face. She was completely undisturbed, and he was completely in love.