Wonderful Weddings

I hate real-life weddings. If I get an invitation to one in the mail, I try to stuff it back into the mailbox, say a magic spell, and hope with every fiber of my being that it'll disappear.

It never does.

Fictional weddings, on the other hand, I love. LOVE! I could attend those weddings all day long. I'd love to be a guest at them, admire the bride's dress, witnesses the meaningful, well-worded vows, eat the culinary delights at the reception, and dance the night away with the groom's wacky cousin.

Writing wedding scenes is one of the highlights of writing romance. They are spots in a book where, as a writer, you can create perfection. The wedding can be anything you want it to be--maybe everything you wish your own wedding had been. You get to pick your location, design dresses, put sexy men in tuxedos, use symbolism to illustrate the relationship between the bride and groom...all without the real-life worry of who is going to pay for all of it.

Here's a clip from a wedding scene in my novel FIREFLY MOUNTAIN:

“Take it down a notch, okay?” It was taking a bit

of effort to keep the anger at bay. Gini made a

decision right then to stay away from Lily for the

rest of her stay in Rhode Island to be on the safe

side. “Your sister is a great person, and she deserves

a perfect day. You making comments and sulking

around makes it un-perfect.”

Lily opened her mouth, but Gini held up a hand.

“Just fade into the background. It’s not about you.”

Gini slipped out the French doors in the dining

room before Lily could say anything. She crossed the

wide patch of pristine lawn to the gazebo and chairs

set up for family and friends. There had to be at

least four hundred chairs by Gini’s estimate. She

thought of the Matthews wedding she had

photographed in Burnam. Seventy-five guests tops.

On the bride’s family farm. Bride and groom had

worn jeans and arrived at the ceremony on

horseback. The reception was a barbecue.

Looking around at the mini water fountains,

flowers, and candles in crystal holders set up on the

round tables under hundreds of tiny lights strung

through the trees, Gini didn’t think ribs on the grill

or jeans would make an appearance tonight.

Newport was a world away from Burnam. Love

would be the only common factor between Willow’s

wedding and the Matthews wedding, and Gini
supposed that was all you needed anyway.

Not that she’d ever know.

“It’s not about you either,” she told herself.

Shaking her head, she walked deeper into the area

and started snapping photos of the decorations, the

waiting gazebo, the prepped tables, the string

quartet setting up, the ocean kissing the sand in the

backdrop.

That shore at the edge of the property had called

to her all day, but Willow had kept Gini busy with

this and that. There hadn’t been a free moment to

steal away to the beach and test the water with her

bare toes. But tomorrow. Tomorrow was another

day. Willow and Andrew would be off on their

honeymoon in Australia, but had said Gini was

welcome to stay with Mrs. Greene and Lily in the

cottage for as long as she wanted. So tempting to

stay for weeks, but Gini would make do with a day,

two tops. She planned to bike ride along the coast

tomorrow morning and be a beach bum for the rest

of the day. She couldn’t wait.

Gini took a few more pictures of the grounds and

caught a lovely sailboat gliding by on the water. The

sun had almost disappeared below the horizon.

Purple-pink streaks hovered above the dark water

now, and a nearly full moon climbed to its zenith in

the starry sky. The night was hot, but a soft breeze

off the ocean kept it from being stifling. The air
sifted through tall grasses that lined the border

between lawn and sandy shore. The gentle swish

was a music all its own.

“Gini!”

She turned around to see Willow leaning out a

windowsill, dressed in white, several feet of stone

cottage beneath her. The contrast between soft white

wedding dress and rough gray rock was too much for

Gini to resist. She snapped a picture, loving the play

of textures.

“Come in here,” Willow called.

Gini waved and walked back to the cottage. She

climbed the stairs and raised her hand to open the

back door. Before her fingers made contact though,

the door opened. Willow clamped onto Gini’s arm

and yanked her inside. She pulled Gini upstairs into

a bedroom and closed the door.

“What am I doing?” Willow’s eyes were wide, her

skin pale.

“Getting married, I think,” Gini said.

“Why is my heart pounding? I don’t feel right. I

think I’m going to vomit.” Willow sat on the end of

the bed and pulled Gini down beside her. “Is it hot in

here? I was cold like two seconds ago and now it’s

boiling in here? Are you boiling?”

“Yikes,” Gini said. “Take a breath, Willow.

What’s happening?”

“I think I’m freaking out. Andrew called me to

let me know he’s at the main house and can’t wait to

see me, to marry me.” She stood and paced in front

of Gini. “Now, I can’t breathe.”

“Okay, okay.” Gini stood too and grasped

Willow’s shoulders to stop her from wearing a rut in

the carpet. “You’re just a little anxious. You love

Andrew, right?”

“More than anything.”

“See, you didn’t have to think twice about that

answer, Willow. This is right. You know it is.”

Willow grinned. “It

is right. Andrew and I are
meant to be husband and wife. I lost it for a minute
there. Lily’s comments just kept circling through my
head, and suddenly I thought I was making a
monumental mistake.” She shook her head. “Not

marrying Andrew would be a monumental mistake.”

“All better?” Gini relaxed her grip on Willow.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Willow hugged Gini as a soft

knock sounded on the door.

 

“Willow, it’s time,” Mrs. Greene called.

“I’m ready,” Willow said again. She took Gini’s

hand and tugged her to the door. “Get that camera

ready. I’m going to need proof that I’ve actually said,

‘I do.’”

Do you like weddings? What is your favorite thing about them? What don't you like about weddings? (C'mon, you know there is something you don't like.)

Want more romantic fun with Gini Claremont and Patrick Barre in Firefly Mountain? Buy it from Amazon in print or ebook here.

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com