Small round pearls dotted the surface of her strapless white dress. I felt them press into my arms as I wrapped them around her in a big hug and held her tight.
"You're married," I whispered into her ear, more for my benefit than hers. "I can't believe you're married."
I pulled back and looked her, so simply styled, yet classically beautiful, with her hair pinned up and flowers nestled among the strands. A wide smile seemed permanently etched on her face.
Tears welled up in my eyes and I clumsily pushed one away, turned my head and apologized.
"I'm sorry, I just …"
"I know, babe, I know," she said.
"We just used to sit up at [The Bar] and drink beers and you were my other single girl pal for months and months …"
My words quickened as I tried to regain my composure. She just laughed with an understanding smile.
"And we just never thought that this was going to happen. Remember how we never thought this was going to happen?"
She laughed again and nodded. We talked some more about how beautiful she looked, how happy I was for her, how fabulous He is. I couldn't hear the loud music around me, didn't see the dancing, didn't smell the cake. I was tipsy, from both wine and emotion.
He came over, so handsome in his tux, slid an arm around her waist and they grinned. There were no more words. He has more of a connection to her now than I ever could, even on those nights when we downed crisp, cold beers and greasy bar food.