My Friend The Bride: A Lesbian Romance Page 2

  “I like that suit, Molly,” she said. “Super hot.”

  “Yeah?” I said, looking down at myself. “I just got it for this trip. I needed a new swimsuit anyway.” I threaded my fingers into the back of my bikini bottom and deftly pulled out the slight wedgie.

  “This place is just so cool,” marveled Emma, looking around the cottage. “It’s exactly what I pictured. Thanks for putting this all together, Molly. You’re the best.”

  “It’s what the maid of honor does,” I smiled. Reaching across the kitchen counter, I grabbed a can of sparkling water from the case and cracked it open.

  “I just want to say this,” started Emma. “You know, before the other girls get here.” Her face grew a bit serious, but even in her sincerity she was still so evidently pretty. Her eyes bright, her nose a little button, lips thin and defined, her skin a glowing alabaster.

  “Sure,” I said, picking up on her gravity. “Anything, Emma.”

  “Obviously, all the girls are super close to me,” she said. “I mean, I go back so far with everyone.”

  “Totally.”

  “But you,” said Emma, taking a deep breath, smiling a bit cautiously, diving into our emotional history. “You’re different, Molly,” she said with earnestness. “That’s why you’re my maid of honor, of course.”

  “Of course,” I said, following along with her.

  “All the way back in college,” she said. “When I met you that first night in the dorms. I never would have thought I’d meet my best friend on the same floor as me in college.” I laughed.

  “Well, it’s really a friendship of convenience,” I said teasingly. “You could have bonded with any one of those girls.”

  “No way,” said Emma. “We were meant to be friends,” she said with a reminiscent smile. “It was kismet.”

  “I suppose so,” I said contentedly, proud to be the subject of Emma’s retrospective.

  “And you know,” she continued. “That I never had with the other girls…” said Emma, her face again growing serious, looking off from me. “I never had with them what you and I had together.”

  “Emma,” I said as though I were trying to stop her, but desperately wanting her to continue reciting what I knew she was thinking about.

  “It’s okay, Molly,” she said. “We can talk about it.”

  “Whatever you’re comfortable with,” I said tenderly.

  With a smile on her face that seemed to be reliving our past, Emma stepped closer to me and placed her palm on my upper arm, flesh on flesh. She closed her eyes for a moment in thought, letting her hand move up and down my arm until finally she opened her eyes once again and offered me a pleased visage.

  “I know I’m marrying Seth in a week,” she said finally. “But I’ll always remember our… intimate times.”

  “Oh Emma,” I mused.

  “We can’t tell anybody,” she said. “Seth can never know.”

  “I know,” I said, feeling pained by this. I was happy to be brought back to the times Emma and I had gotten close, closer than two best friends usually get, but it was painful to hear her draw a line in the sand. Somewhere in the back of my mind — and I’m certainly not proud of this — I wished that this wedding was never happening. I loved Emma, loved her differently than I loved others. She inspired something in me that I just couldn’t accurately put words to.

  “But they meant a lot to me,” Emma admitted. She slowly snaked her arms around my waist, me standing there in just my bikini, Emma in her khaki shorts and bikini top, our skin touching. The two of us embraced, arms intertwined, almost as though we were hugging each other at a funeral. It was as though Emma were saying goodbye to our past. Not our past as friends, as that would endure for as long as we’re both breathing. Rather, our other past… our past as lovers.

  “It was very special to me as well,” I said, leaning my head down onto her shoulder. “It’s really hard to talk about this.”

  “I just wanted to get it out in the open,” she said. “For a final time.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, the pain in my heart coming out through a crack in my voice. “Are you sure you’re not a lesbian?”

  “I can’t talk about that,” said Emma, a flimsiness in her voice belying her words. “I’m marrying Seth next weekend.”

  “You can tell me,” I whispered softly.

  “It doesn’t do either of us any good,” she said, pulling away from our embrace. I could tell she was saddened by our conversation, but I don’t think she could be as saddened as me. I’d always held the slightest hope that maybe it would work out between the two of us. That maybe she’d admit that she was like me, instead of doing what was expected of her by her family. I don’t think anybody else in her life knew that Emma had been involved sexually with another woman. Not her brother, not her mother or father, and certainly not Seth. It made me feel powerless, almost like it had never even happened.

  “It meant a lot to me,” I said finally, resigning to the fact that this would be the end of that part of our lives. Going forward, it was to be a close platonic friendship only and I had to start accepting that fact right away or else I knew it could only lead to pain.

  “It meant a lot to me, too,” said Emma, letting a smile part her lips. “Let’s not let this put a damper on our weekend.” She was forcing herself to perk up and determined to bring me along with her. “We needed to have this talk. I love you so much Molly.”

  “I love you, too,” I said with a wan smile.

  “Are you ready to hit the beach with me or what?” said Emma, giving me a light smack on the rear, her voice ringing out in a chipper tone.

  *

  “There you guys are,” said a familiar voice coming from behind us. Emma and I were lying together on the beach of Lake Michigan, adorned in our bikinis, sunglasses over our eyes, beach towels spread out and a small cooler between us. We simultaneously propped ourselves up on elbows and looked in the direction of the voice, catching the look of our friend Monika smiling back at us.

  “Hey Mon’!” said Emma, waving happily. Monika beamed and as she approached the sand, she slipped out of her flip-flops and picked them up.

  “Hot sand!” she said, laughing as she stepped onto the beach. Monika had creamy dark brown skin and jet black hair, kinked and usually worn back in an almost weightless ponytail. Seeing us in our swimsuits, Monika wasted no time in pulling off her t-shirt to reveal a yellow bikini top, tossing her flip-flops and shirt down together onto a plastic beach chair off to the side of us.

  “How was the drive?” I asked.

  “Easy peasy,” she said, giving me a nonchalant wave. “You’d think… Friday, summertime, going to the beach, busy traffic. But once I got out of Chicago, it was smooth sailing.”

  “Anybody else here yet?” said Emma. “We’ve been down at the beach for a couple hours already.”

  “It’s empty up at the cottage,” said Monika, digging her toes into the sand and looking down at her feet. “That cottage is sweet, by the way.”

  “Oh totally,” said Emma. “Molly did an awesome job at putting this weekend together.”

  “Yeah, thanks Mol’,” said Monika with a pleased smile.

  “Anything for our bride-to-be,” I said, my eyes catching Emma’s, both of us giving each other a bemused expression.

  “I brought stuff for margaritas,” said Monika. “I make a mean frozen marg. There’s a blender, right?”

  “Should be,” I said.

  “I know you don’t really drink, Emma,” said Monika. “But you’ve got to try at least one of my margaritas. It’s a recipe from this tequila bar I used to bartend at. It’s the real deal, not that pre-made crap.”

  “I can’t go crazy,” said Emma with an impish grin. “If I can’t fit into my wedding dress next weekend, I’ll kill you.” Monika laughed and waved her hand.

  “Girl, I’ve never seen you any bigger than you are right now,” said Monika. “And a couple of margaritas won’t change that.”
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  “You can take a break from your ascetic lifestyle for one weekend,” I said to Emma, giving her a wink. “Yogi.”

  “I planned on it!” exclaimed Emma, defending herself. “I’m not a monk or anything.”

  “This beach is flippin’ incredible,” said Monika, looking at into the vastness of Lake Michigan. “It’s hard to believe that Chicago’s on the other side of that.”

  “The Third Coast,” reflected Emma. “I love western Michigan.”

  “Remember when we came to Saugatuck three years ago?” I said to Emma, smiling innocently at her. She raised her eyebrows, like she was teasingly chastising me, knowing very well what I was talking about. “Just the two of us?”

  “You guys came here before?” asked Monika.

  “We stopped through for a couple days,” I said. “We drove all the way up to Traverse City, stayed there a night, and then over to Petoskey for a wedding. Emma was my ‘plus one.’”

  “That was a super fun trip,” Emma recalled. “I love road trips like that.”

  “Just the two of you?” said Monika. “Weren’t you dating that chick Autumn at the time, Molly?”

  “We had broken up,” I said. “She was supposed to go with me but we split and then Emma filled in.” I sighed happily as I remembered that trip. It was the kind of trip that Emma wouldn’t care to get into the specifics about around others, as it involved us seizing a ‘what happens on the trip, stays on the trip’ type of attitude, but I could tell by the look on her face as we talked about it that she remembered it fondly. “I’m so much happier that Emma came with me.”

  “It was great,” said Emma, eyes glazing over slightly.

  “And you were with Seth at the time, right?” asked Monika. “I think that was when you guys first started dating.”

  “Right,” said Emma. “Yeah, that was about the time Seth and I got together.”

  “And he didn’t care that you went off on a dreamy road trip up the coast of Michigan with your pretty lesbian friend?” said Monika, chuckling. “What am I talking about? He’s a guy! He probably jerked off to the thought of it!” All three of us laughed at Monika’s joke.

  “You’re probably right,” said Emma. I looked over to Emma as our laughter slowed and gave her an earnest smile. She raised her eyebrows at me and made a silent shushing face.

  “I really don’t want to think about Seth jerking off,” I said, playing along. “That is not my scene.”

  “If it ain’t the law or pussy,” said Emma. “Molly wants nothing to do with it!”

  “You’re projecting,” I said, sticking my tongue out at Emma.

  “Hey!” she protested. Monika laughed at our banter back and forth.

  “I’m so happy to be up here with you girls,” said Monika. “And I’m even happier to get away from Terrance for the weekend,” she said, giggling, shaking her head. “You’ll see soon, Emma. Husbands can be such a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Emma. “Seth and I stay over each other’s places often enough for me to get where you’re coming from.”

  “Ha!” said Monika. “Just you wait! You have no idea.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Emma, bobbing her head back and forth.

  “All right, ladies,” said Monika, taking up her t-shirt and flip-flops from the chair. “I’m going to get these margs started.”

  “Don’t forget to claim a bedroom up there,” said Emma.

  “Oh yeah,” said Monika. “There was a bunch of stuff on the big bed, so I cleared it all off and put my bags on it.”

  “Funny,” said Emma with a smirk.

  “Come up and get a drink soon,” said Monika. “I’m ready to party!” She gyrated her hips and called out a hoot, ending her little dance with a laugh and began making her way back up to the cottage.

  Emma watched Monika as she left us, not speaking up until Monika was totally out of earshot.

  “Bringing up that road trip,” said Emma, her face reddening slightly with embarrassment. I snickered.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” I said.

  “We’re done talking about all that,” said Emma, her words serious but her tone coquettish. “I told you up at the cottage, we’ve got to move on.”

  “All right,” I agreed. But I knew I could never forget about what we did together. The more we talked about it out in the open, the more I dwelled on it, so eager to return to those times. Or even recreate them in the present. There was a coy look in Emma’s eyes that made me think she felt the same way.

  *

  “No way!” said Emma. “No more for me!”

  “Are you sure?” said Monika, grinning, holding a pitcher of margaritas and leaning over where Emma sat on the cottage living room floor. In addition to Emma, Monika, and I, our friends and fellow bridesmaids Meg, Krista, and Rachel were also in attendance. It was dark out, the late evening creeping up upon us, and we had just finished playing a goofy card game putting us all in good spirits. The cards were strewn about on the floor and it was obvious that the night was beginning to wind down for most of the girls.

  “They’re really good,” said Rachel with a partially inebriated smile on her face. “I’ll take another.”

  “What about you, Molly?” asked Monika, as I was sitting next to Emma on the floor.

  “Nah,” I said. “I really shouldn’t have any more.”

  “More for Rachel, then,” said Monika, stepping over our legs to get to Rachel.

  With her shoulder leaning against mine, I felt Emma’s arm nonchalantly slip between my lower back at the couch behind us, her hand settling comfortably at my hip. I smiled happily and leaned my head against hers for a moment.

  “I’m fine,” said Meg, waving Monika off. “I’m going to try to get up early and do yoga with the sunrise.”

  “That sounds amazing,” said Emma. “I’ll join you!”

  “We should all do it,” said Meg with excitement in her eyes.

  “Yeah!” said Rachel, though she was looking a little too drunk to realistically wake up at sunrise the next morning.

  “I’m game,” said Krista. “But I’m ready to turn in.” She smiled and stood, stretching out her arms and legs and releasing a relaxed sigh.

  “What time is it?” asked Monika. “Are you girls ready to go to sleep already?”

  “I worked today,” said Krista. “Plus the three hour drive and your strong-ass margaritas. I’m pooped!”

  “I think Krista’s right,” said Emma. “We have all day tomorrow to party. We’ll hit up downtown Saugatuck, check out the shops and restaurants, do the beach, and stay up late tomorrow night.”

  “I’ll stay up and finish the pitcher you with, Monika,” said Rachel, taking a sip from her full glass.

  “Did you see the pool table out in the sunroom?” said Emma. “You girls could shoot some pool.”

  “Totally,” said Rachel, standing up while trying to keep her drink balanced. “Monika, do you want to play?” As Rachel stood, the rest of the group began to follow suit.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Monika. “You know I work in bars, right? I’m pretty good at pool.”

  “You can beat me,” said Rachel. “I don’t mind.” She smiled contentedly as she approached Monika and slung an arm around her waist, hugging against her.

  “Are you ready to turn in?” Emma asked me quietly. “If you’re not, that’s cool. You won’t disturb me if you come in later.”

  “I’m feeling a little sun-kissed and spent,” I said. “That margarita really did me in.”

  “Let’s hit it then,” she said with a smile. “Night Girls!”

  Everyone clamored their goodnights and began moving toward the hallway that lead to the bedrooms, except for Monika and Rachel, of course, who took their margaritas and headed to the sunroom to play a bit of pool. A tickling breeze wafted in through the open windows along with the beautiful rollicking sound of waves crashing onto the expansive Lake Michigan shoreline.

  *

  I walked into our be
droom first and Emma followed close behind, shutting the door tightly behind us. The room was lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand between our two beds. Outside the room we could hear Meg and Krista talking, exiting the bathroom, making their way to the bedroom they shared. Emma and I were both dressed in our sleeping clothes, tank tops and breezy shorts, the same loungewear we were dressed in out in the living room with the girls. As we prepared for bed, we both started to remove our bras from underneath our tanks.

  “I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” said Emma, pulling her bra out of her tank top and placing it on a dresser. Meanwhile, I folded my bra up and set it on top of my duffel bag. “Saugatuck is so much fun.”

  “I wanna see if that ice cream shop is still around,” I said. “I’ve got an intense craving for mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone.” Emma laughed at me.

  “I wish I could eat that,” she mused. “Just another week and I can loosen up this diet a little.”

  “You’re nuts,” I said, smiling over at her. “You always look good.”

  “You look good,” said Emma. Her eyes became a little glazed over, something carnal flickering in them when she looked at me. Maybe it was the margarita talking. Either way, the air in the room seemed to drop and everything felt a little bit more weighted after her comment.

  “Emma,” I said softly as she crept toward me. The smile she wore was happy, lusty, intoxicated. “What are you doing?” She looked so beautiful in her sleepwear, little pokey nipples showing through the thin fabric of her tank top, athletic and smooth stems of legs from the floor up to her striped cotton shorts.

  “Just one more time,” said Emma. “Before I’m married.”

  My heart rate skyrocketed and I felt the coolness of sweat on the small of my back. I knew very well what Emma was suggesting and in that moment I was so incredibly torn. Although I wanted dearly to touch her, to kiss her, to make love to her, I didn’t want to be complicit in her cheating. As my mind dwelled on Emma’s suggestion, she closed in on me and slid her hands around my waist.