I’m standing next to Marty’s brother as Marty does his nervous sway –shifting his stance from his left foot to his right foot every few seconds. We’re all dressed in our fine suits as a crowd stares at Marty, waiting for the bride to come down the aisle. The lineup is Marty in the middle, then Tyler, then me. Randy is next; I see him heading into the garden where the ceremony is under way, a bridesmaid hooked to his arm. I grin to see the pissed off look on the girls face; I’m sure Randy said something nasty to her. The kid is a real pervert.

After Randy comes Bobby; he looks so out of place. Poor guy. The rest of us, no offense to Bobby, are kind of big, muscularly built guys. He’s just this scrawny little lawyer, and he looks like a real pipsqueak standing next to the tallest bridesmaid in the bunch. Bobby takes his place as does the bridesmaid he had been escorting. I do a head count, and I realize there’s going to be a bridesmaid entering by herself. I hadn’t realized there was one more bridesmaid than groomsmen; hell, I could have walked two girls down –or anyone of us could have. It only takes about thirty seconds for me to realize why.

The last girl comes walking in, and she’s carrying a picture frame. It’s a photo of Gabe. Shit, Marty –the son of a bitch is going to make me cry on his wedding day. I wish he would have warned me. I glance to my right, and I can see that Tyler is close to losing it when he realizes what the girl is carrying. Randy grabs a stool and places it beside Bobby and helps the bridesmaid set up the photograph.

Marty gets a little teary eyed, and I do too. I try my best to keep my composure, but I feel a couple of tears trickle down; I wipe them away quickly. I look out into the crowd of people, and I see Brandi giving me a sympathetic smile. She’s sitting with Marianna, Tyler’s date. Marianna is one of the fighters; I’m glad she didn’t dump Tyler after me, his friend, screwed with Laurel the way I did. They make a good pair.

The flower girl comes bolting down the aisle, and there is a soft laughter amongst the crowd as the little girl flings flower petals everywhere, and she stops at the front of the aisle and dumps the rest of the basket out onto the ground. I chuckle, and I see Brandi staring at the young girl with these excited eyes. Is she pondering about our baby girl? Picturing what she would look like? I know I am, and I smile at the little flower girl as she gets flustered trying to remember where she’s supposed to stand; one of the bridesmaids points, and the girl stands where the bridesmaid had pointed and smiles proudly as though she had accomplished an amazing task.

Amy enters, and the crowd stands. I can see Marty getting worked up, and I smile. The guy is really head over heels for Amy. I can’t help but to wonder if I will ever feel that way about Brandi again. The vows are really cheesy, and I’m sure Tyler and I will give Marty hell about it later, but at the same time they’re sweet and loving. Damn, I miss feeling that way about someone.

The ceremony draws to a close, and the bridal party –myself included –stick around the ceremony site for pictures while the rest of the guests head to the reception hall inside the venue for partying and drinking. “Congratulations, you two,” Tyler sings and clasps both of them on the shoulder. “You should have told us about that photo of Gabe, man,” Tyler says, “you about had me bawling. Jonathan lost it.”

“Cool it, man,” I warn.

Marty smiles. “Sorry. I probably should have given you a heads up about it. I kept telling Amy how I wished he could have been here, and she came up with the idea of the photo.”

I smile at Amy. I was glad that Gabe got to be a part of it somehow. Soon we head to the reception, and we do this grand entrance thing. Brandi is really tired, so she doesn’t do much dancing. We do wind up swaying awkwardly by our table to one slow song; I of course don’t do any drinking –being a recovering alcoholic and all. Bobby feels my pain; he’s been sober longer than I have been, though.

I can’t get over how miserable Brandi looks; it must be one of those rough days. She’s been having a lot of those lately. The due date is still five weeks away, so she’s in the final stretch now. She’s sweaty, panting, and she keeps having to sit down almost as soon as she stands. Honestly, I’m getting close to asking if she just wants to leave. I mean, I’d love to stay and hang out with my good friend since he just got married and all, but I can tell she is just trying to stick it out for me.

“Hey, Brandi, are you all right?” I ask as we enjoy our free dinner. The cake is being cut, and I know she’s been eyeing it all night.

“Just not feeling like myself,” she says and waves it off like it’s nothing. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I’m just pregnant, Jonathan,” she asserts.

I’m not buying that. Just as the servers are passing out the cake, Brandi lets out this little yelp. I glance over at her; she’s gripping her stomach. “Brandi?” I question.

“It’s probably just Braxton hicks,” she says. Suddenly she grips her stomach, lets out another feint cry, and then looks down. “Oh shit,” she says.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Jonathan, I either just pissed myself, or my water broke.” She looks mortified.

“What?” I stand up and hurry to her side. “You’re not due for another five weeks.”

She lets out a slight cry and grips her side. “Shit,” she says. “Oh shit, that hurts.”

“Come on, let’s get you to a hospital,” I say, and Bobby stares at us from across the table. He’s the only one of the groomsmen still seated and not up dancing and drinking, so he got to enjoy that entire interaction. He jumps up and hurries to help me help Brandi up out of her seat. Her legs are pretty much no use; she keeps cringing and heaving over.

We attract the attention of several bridesmaids and groomsmen –Marty and Amy too. “Oh my gosh!” Amy squeals, “are you in labor?”

“I think so,” Brandi says.

Amy looks more excited than Brandi; Brandi just looks completely freaked out. “Think we’re going to have to leave early, man,” I say to Marty, and Brandi squeezes the shit out of my shoulder for making a joke.

“Of course! Go!” Marty says.

Bobby and Tyler both walk us out to the car to ensure that Brandi gets into the Ferrari okay. Damn, I hate that we took the Ferrari. I mean, I love my Volkswagen and all, but I don’t want her having the baby in the damn Ferrari! At least the Ferrari is fast. Brandi and I peel out and head straight for the hospital. My nerves are shot. Five weeks! Five weeks early? This can’t be good.