Page 29 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“Okay.” He breathes and it’s almost a sigh, but in that soft moony way only the hopelessly in love can sound.
He heads for the door and I walk to the elevator, turning to watch him stop dead in the open doorway. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine it.
The ride up the Empyreal gondola is filled with chatter. We’re all packed into one of the large cars—Mom and Dad stand in one corner with Joss’s dad Brian and her half-sister Isla. Jamie and Breck are talking over a few last-minute ceremony details and I’m clinging to Willow’s hand while talking animatedly with Jaz, Joss’s best friend, and her boyfriend Paul.
The arrival of Joss’s closest friends and family was a Christmas surprise from Wes. He organized for them all to arrive a few days after he and Joss did—just before dinner onChristmas Eve—and Joss looked like she might faint on the spot when they walked into my mom’s house.
Dinner that night—Mom had it catered, of course—went surprisingly well considering the eclectic group of people. I was sure my parents would do or say something that would leave me cringing, but they were surprisingly well-behaved. They usually are when Wes is home. Add in a future daughter-in-law, lots of new faces, and people to impress? They were downright pleasant.
In the week since, we’ve filled every moment to the brim. A Christmas morning in my condo, complete with hot chocolate and presents—mostly for Willow. Days on the mountain where we got all the Aussies strapped to a board at one point or another—even Brian. Mom and Dad worked every day besides Christmas Eve and Christmas, which was fine by me. We ate out, we ate in, we made mulled wine and hot toddies.
Having so many people around also made it easy to ignore the ever-present tension between me and Breck, and I’ve avoided any circumstance that might leave the two of us alone together. It feels easier that way. Even if I did catch his eyes on me multiple times…
The gondola crests the top of the summit and the reason we’re all together is here at last. My eagerness has me bouncing on my toes. We exit into a winter wonderland, where Lake Tahoe is our backdrop and the soft snow falling only adds to the magical feel. All that’s left to do is wait for the man and woman of the hour, who are set to arrive in their own gondola.
Jamie pulls me into his side, offering me his warmth. Since he’s not officiating today, he’s here as moral support for me—and as a buffer. He knows too well how my parents can be, and I think he’s extra wary since I’m behind the lens in an official capacity.
Another gondola makes its way toward the top of the mountain, and I bounce on my snow boot–clad feet. I have on a beautiful long-sleeved evergreen dress draped in a faux-fur cape, but the fleece leggings underneath are a necessity, as are the boots.
The entire wedding party is in snow boots, even with all their finery, and it’s kind of hilarious.
This is what I’ve come to love about elopements. It’s not about everything being “perfect.” It’s about the adventure, the experience. So what if we have on boots instead of heels if it means we can do this in fresh powder with the lake in the background?
Everything goes silent as the doors open and Wes steps out. The navy blue of his tuxedo stands stark against all the white. His tousled brown hair blows in the light breeze, tiny snowflakes landing amongst the strands. He reaches a hand back into the car and I lift my camera to catch the moment Joss steps out. Her manicured hand meets his, and then it’s a flurry of shutter clicks as I immortalize every movement of her exit.
The long sleeve of her gown. Her hand lifting the hem of her dress to show off a pair of furry boots like mine. Ducking her head, then looking up into my brother’s smiling face when she stands. They turn toward us, our little group erupting in cheers and applause, and I capture the moment my brother lifts his soon-to-be wife’s hand overhead in celebration. They deserve this happiness; they deserve this moment.
Joss’s dress swishes over the snowy ground as they make their way over to us. Her fur wrap covers her back and shoulders but only adds to the simplicity of her dress. Her brown curls hang over one shoulder and her grey eyes are alight as she absorbs the scene around us. She has a simple bouquet of winter greenery in the hand not clasped with Wes’s. He’s barely taken his eyes off her, and I can’t blame him.
The ski lifts haven’t closed yet for the day, so there’s still a trickle of people milling about, stopping to watch. We don’t have an elaborate set-up, and we don’t have to walk far through the swirling snow to find the spot I had in mind for the ceremony.
Breck positions himself with his back to the lake, dressed in a dark grey suit and a heavy wool coat—and, of course, his boots. He pushes a lock of hair back from his forehead with a leather-gloved hand and smiles at our couple—Wes to his right, Joss to his left. When Willow sneaks up next to Breck, no one says anything. She’s welcome there in her deep purple dress, black fleece tights, and peacoat, holding a small bouquet of flowers and the rings.
There’s no music or fanfare, simply the soft snow falling around us.
Breck takes the reins and begins the short ceremony, walking them through the exchange of their vows, giving them space to share their own. Neither has anything written down, but they talk from their hearts and there isn’t a dry eye around. I’m trying my best to keep it together so I don’t miss a single moment, but it’s tough. When Breck asks for the rings, Willow hands a small pouch over to Wes.
The tenderness with which Joss places the ring on his finger breaks me, and I reach for a tissue before my tears can freeze on my face. Lifting my camera again, I happen to glance at Breck and notice the slightest pinch to his features. The click of the camera catches his eye before the look is gone as fast as it appeared, replaced by the proud smile he’s been wearing all day. Then the focus is on Wes as he slides Joss’s engagement ring, along with the delicate band, onto her slender finger before lifting her hand to his lips to kiss it.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Breck says, stepping aside with Willow so I have an unobstructed view of Wes and Joss flushagainst each other, wide smiles on their faces as he dips her low. One hand in her curls, the other low on her back. Then he kisses her senseless. They’re surrounded by hoots and hollers, and not just from our group. There’s a small crowd of onlookers who have stopped to watch, and their enthusiasm only spurs my brother on.
He dips his bride lower, takes the kiss deeper, and I watch her skin flush crimson through my viewfinder. When he finally stands up and they break apart, the laugh that leaves my brother is nothing to the girlish giggle that escapes Joss.
Willow says, “Eww, gross,” and the rest of us burst out laughing.
Breck ruffles her hair. The dark strands that I curled for her this afternoon show each and every snowflake that’s landed there in the time we’ve been outside. “I’ll give you ‘eww, gross,’” he says, and pulls Willow into his arms to plant a wet kiss on her cheek.
“No, Daddy, stop,” she protests, giggling through her half-hearted attempts to get away. This kind of affection for his daughter is nothing out of the ordinary for him, but I catch my parents eyeing them. Never once did they show affection like that to Wes or me as kids. I can’t even imagine having a relationship built on such overt love. It’s the kind of relationship I’d want to have with my own kids…
After the congratulations are out of the way and we’re all shivering, Wes and Joss board their private gondola down the mountain, where we’ll all head to an early dinner to continue celebrating. Jaz, Paul, Brian, and Isla take the next one, followed by my parents. Another approaches, but before I can board it with Jamie, I feel a hand on my elbow.
“Ride down with me?” Breck asks, a hint of apprehension on his face. I nod, words escaping me, and Jamie jumps in, asking Willow to ride down with him instead. She obliges him with astarry-eyed smile. I think she’s fallen a little bit in love with my best friend in the three weeks they’ve known each other. Breck and I stand in silence while we wait for the next gondola.
It eventually slows for us and my stomach constricts at the realization that we haven’t been this close since the night Wes and Joss arrived ten days ago. My cheeks heat remembering how I cut my foot and was wrapped around him like a koala, and the embarrassment steels my spine against whatever might come in the ride down the mountain.
The door opens and Breck’s hand falls to my lower back, ushering me inside. I shiver, unsure if it’s because his hands are cold from being outside or from the touch itself, and watch in shock as he plops down next to me. When the door closes, the inside of the car charges with energy.
Breck and I have been perfectlyfriendlywhile Wes and Joss have been here, but he hasn’t sought me out and I’ve given him the space he said he wanted.
