One of the many beauties friendship provides is forgiveness. Friends; they're not bound to you by blood, but loyalty and kindness. They're your mutually chosen family. Out of all the humans around you you've picked each other as your favourite. You don't need to put up with their crap because tolerating them isn't obligatory. But true friends do it, and my own had an endless capacity for forgiveness - particularly one of them.

Even if that meant stalling her big day.

"Honey, breathe. Come on, sigh out softly. We'll make it in time." Said Parker as we piled into his pick-up truck, Matt in the back.

"No we won't no we won't no we won't-"

"Emergency snacks in the glove box." He cut me off. Had it been about anything other than food I might have protested, but my man knew what the goods were. He had Snickers and crisps and many other delicacies to keep my panic at bay. Well, my panicked words. My thoughts would still be very much circulating, my mouth would just be too preoccupied to bother voicing them. He was smart like that. That wasn't what mattered, though. Over the years he'd become more and more open and accepting of his emotions, not squirrelling things away like he used to. On occasion he'd still do it but this wasn't one of those times. Right at that moment he was as transparent as glass to me - I could tell he too was worrying and all that did was amplify my own concerns.

"Thanks," I tore into the chocolate bar with the ferocity of a feral animal, Parker absentmindedly flicking the falling crumbs before they could melt into the fabric of my expensive pastel pink bridesmaid's dress. "Twinkies crushed into pancakes down the side of your seat."

"Your affinity for continuously stuffing things where they shouldn't be is stressing me out even more. Choose one place to shove unsuspecting food, the side of our bed or the truck. We can't have both attracting mice."

"You're telling me you're not grateful each time I seductively whip out a delicious delicacy from the depths of the mattress? That you were faking delight that time I sultrily fed you beef jerky? That you aren't thankful right now? Whatever, I'll have the Twinkies myself."

"No, I'll-"

"I'll eat it nice and slow and describe in vivid detail what you're missing out on. Don't worry, it'll be just like a good ol' Marks and Spencer's advert. I bet I could do the voice even better. I-"

"Stop messing with me, damn it!" He snatched the half-unwrapped Twinkies, of which I'd hastily leant over and swiped from his side, from my grasp and shoved it in his mouth, packaging and all, before starting up the truck.

"But the wrapper was..."

"No comment," He choked out around a mouthful of sponge and plastic.

"We're so late. Oh my Lordy. Christ on a bicycle. Jesus Christ shepherd of Judiah."

Matt giggled behind us. "That makes no sense."

"Oh, be quiet and drink your chocolate milk. I'm stressed. I. Am. Stressed."

"I couldn't tell." Murmured Parker sarcastically as he span the wheel and had us hurtling around the corner at an alarming speed I was - for once -grateful for.

"Skylar's been dreaming of her wedding day since she fell out of her mother's vagina," Parker, ever a fan of my verbalisation, made a sound somewhere between a choke and a moan of discomfort. "And now we're going to arrive even more fashionably late than she will. She'll be mad about that."

"Surely she won't arrive fashionably late to her own we- Yeah, okay, you're right. It's Skylar. Christ almighty, why my mate wants to marry that diva I have no idea."

"Hush now, you silly goose. Axel has very good taste. And you love her, really. You wouldn't have remembered that hideous decorative pillow she wanted for her birthday last year and reminded me about it when I was having a meltdown about what to get her if you didn't."

"You said you'd stop bringing that up," Growled Parker. "And that you wouldn't tell anybody."

"Yeah, so naturally I'll continue to do so. Oh, and I've already told all of your friends four times over. The guys like it when I expose your hidden femininity."

Parker made a hasty turn left and Matt squealed in the back. Simultaneously we turned around so quickly our necks nearly snapped in order to make sure we hadn't catapulted the fragile blond from his seat (something that had happened more times than either one of us cared to admit) (but in all fairness he was always so enthusiastically bouncy) (therefore we are to be held unaccountable for future disasters, just saying) but it turned out he was still where he should be. The chocolate milk, however...

I appraised the brown liquid that had somehow managed to splash over every square inch of the vehicle's interior - windows, seats, ceiling and all dripped a nice, muddy brown - in spite of the carton being half the size of my hand, and stated, "I am not cleaning that."

"Matty," Parker moaned, taking another abrupt - but legal, we were all about the legality now... most of the time - curve around a corner. Thankfully this street was familiar from the copious amount of times Skylar had taken me to the venue to just check, double check, triple check this was definitely where she wanted to host her wedding. It ought to only be another few minutes until we arrived and that would only make us ten minutes late. "How are you always so messy?"

"Oopsie daisies?" Was all he offered in response, an impish grin plastered to his chubby little face. Cute when partnered with his angelic golden curls and crisp little suit on his tiny kiddy frame, but devlish when taking into account the mess he'd just made and how brown now stained his once pristine-white shirt collar, and he knew exactly what he'd done. The innocent card; he liked to play it, and he was damn well good at it with those dimples. A bit like his father in that way.

"In all fairness this one's on you and your manic swerving," I smiled at our little fallen angel in his car seat who, even at the tender age of four, was already showing telltale signs of the troublemaker he was setting out to be. "Isn't that right, Matty?"

He nodded solemnly as Parker pulled over around the side of the church with a defeated laugh.

If the abundance of cars already parked were anything to go by, everybody had already arrived. That wasn't surprising considering the magnitude of the event. For these occasions one tended to turn up early as opposed to late - but then would we really still be us if something hadn't gone awry?

Axel had let Skylar go to town on the entire event. It was seen in every square inch of decoration. From the lengthy red carpet that had been rolled over the grass out front to lead you to the church as if you were a celebrity figure, with even a few photographers positioned at the entrance manically snapping photographs as if literal paparazzi (I wasn't kidding, they were clad in all black - t-shirt, jeans, boots - and I just knew that wasn't a coincidence considering this was a black tie event), to the abundance of lace-trimmed bunting brandishing the names of the soon to be newly weds. Not to mention the copious amount of scarlet rose petals running along the pews. Nothing about it exactly screamed Axel, but the boy was smitten and clearly didn't mind. If I hadn't already been convinced of that then I certainly would have been when we caught sight of him as we rushed inside. The boy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he ran up to us. Thankfully the wedding didn't look remotely ready to begin.

"You're late. On my wedding day the two of you are late." His scolding tone didn't match the mega-watt smile he wore which hadn't once slipped, if anything it had only widened, so it didn't exactly strengthen his angry façade.

"Three," Piped up Matt as he peeked out from in between my legs. We all looked down at him, and he faltered a moment as he pointed to Parker and I before gesturing to his own chocolate splattered chest, raising tubby fingers as he did so until his thumb, pointer finger and middle finger were extended. He looked up at me, suddenly unsure. "Three late. Mum?"

Parker ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's right, kiddo. But remember, Axel's stupid. He's slow at math. So's mum. You ask dad the hard stuff because...?"

"Dad's a genius." Recited Matt, well taught in the practice of Parker's bullshit.

"I can count to three." Protested Axel at the same time as I said,

"Technically there's four of us now so mum is better at math."

Before Parker could make a protest about how that didn't technically count just yet Axel cut in with, "Stop playing happy families at my wedding and stealing my thunder. I've told you before and I'll tell you it again, babies and burps and diapers and umbilical cords are so not my thing. You're here to celebrate the stars of the day. Hint: they are not you."

"Really?" I eyed the cream ribbons that were strung along the outsides of the pews, Skylar and Axel's names printed along their lengths in elegant curving black script. "Couldn't tell."

"Shut up. I tried to tell her we should have printed Skax to be cooler but she wasn't having it."

I literally choked trying to contain my snort of amusement. I had assumed when Skylar previously mentioned this minor argument in the planning process she had been joking. I should have known by now something so ridiculous was possible when it came to my friends.

Parker looked confused. "I don't get it."

"Skylar and Axel," Explained the exasperated groom with a sigh, but with Parker still clearly not comprehending he continued with, "Do I need to spell it out for you? Skaxler."

"Then why did you say Skax?"

Axel gave him a duh look. "Because it sounds better? Short. Snappy. Has pizzazz. You wouldn't understand. It's not like anybody wants to be called Flarker. Sounds like a disease. Oh hey mate, sorry I can't make it today. Came down with a real case of the Flark."

"Well now I don't want to give you the lemon drizzle I baked you," Parker glared. "I made it with the new special lemon syrup I perfected at my bakery earlier. Guess you won't be the first to try."

"Now don't be so harsh, man. All was said in good jest!"

Parker had been about to reply, undoubtedly with some form of witty retort, but was beaten to it by an extremely high pitched squawk that could only belong to one person. "Did someone say lemon drizzle?" Matthew all but screamed, bounding along and tripping over the hem of his dress pants. They were about an inch too long for him and he was glaring at them as if it were the trousers' fault rather than his own poor judgement of size. "I meant that," He said once he realised we had all been spectating as he tripped. "Just so you know."

"You're twenty-eight now, mate. How you stumble through life independently I've not a clue." Axel shook his head at his best man, clearly debating why after all of these years he still entrusted him with grown-up tasks.

"The children carry me." He said dramatically with a twirling hand gesture.

I assumed he was referring to the children he saw on the daily working as a children's entertainer. He'd been floating about for a fair few years doing random jobs that he hated. Some he quit, others he found himself immediately fired from, much to his bemusement, when he accidentally did something incredibly stupid. Around five years ago a spot in a local company as a children's entertainer opened up and he'd never looked back since. His record wasn't judged too harshly as the manager had a daughter, some girl called Libby who had apparently doted on Matthew during high school, who had ranted and raved about the injustice of our story in the tabloids and local paper and what a good person he was when the public was made aware of the goings on. That meant he was particularly well rehearsed on the matter and had no trouble employing him. Of course it helped he was a natural what with him having a two year old's sense of humour himself. My own son loved him and I had no doubt my next would also.

"I'd be offended if they never, for you are their king and they your slaves to humour." I said.

Matthew mulled this over for a moment, frowned slightly, then nodded. "Yes," He said with a growing smile. "That is exactly how it is."

"Jesus," Said Topher as he approached, hands stuffed in the pockets of the open tailored black suit jacket he wore. To say he looked dashing was an understatement. I'd always thought him to be gorgeous so it didn't exactly come as a surprise when he opened up an Instagram account when he was on holiday in Ayia Napa, his first ten posts shirtless ones to attract the ladies, that some foreign modelling agency swept him away. He wasn't around much which was just as upsetting for my eyes as it was our feelings, but what with him now owning a massive apartment on the south-east coast of Cyprus we made sure to visit him every summer. It was nice to have him here for a change. The crisp white of his shirt only seemed to amplify his now sun kissed skin. "Why would you say that to him? He'll lose the job for definite now. Boss'll come in when he's calling all the kiddies his slaves."

"Libby wouldn't let that happen." Matthew protested. "She loves me too much."

"Used to love you, mate. Not that any of us even remember the girl so she couldn't have done very much."

"She's my childhood sweetheart, even if I didn't know she existed!"

"So then it's switched around. You love her now. Damn, if you don't grow balls sometime soon she'll move onto greener pastures. Find another guy to paint his face like a clown and blow up balloons. Better watch your back. Ask her out soon."

Matthew fell into a panic-stricken silence and Matt giggled, prodding at Matthew's leg for he couldn't exactly reach his cheek.

"Your face looks funny," Commented the four year old.

"Got Parker's bluntness, that one." Topher grinned at him before looking back up at me. "Lucky you. Irritating ass times two in your house."

"Tell me about it."

"Not to alarm you but when I got here I bumped into a certain bridezilla running rampant down the corridor demanding the presence of a certain quirky maid of honour that was supposed to be with her ten minutes ago."

I swore under my breath. It didn't take a genius to work out who she was in hot pursuit of. "I almost forgot. Need to go now. Park, you're on Matt duty."

"But-"

"No ifs no buts no coconuts." I snapped, dashing past the celebratory festivities and out into the main corridor of the church.

Before I was completely out of earshot I heard Matthew murmur solemnly, "Well you can't argue with logic like that."

I heard Skylar before I saw her. The church was positively teeming with guests which consequently had every square inch of the corridor clogged as some tried to make their way into the main hall for the event and others seemed to be making up for lost time in the most inconvenient of places. Above all the ruckus penetrated my best friend's dulcet tones that simply radiated her naturally calm and composed disposition.

"If somebody doesn't find Flora fucking Montgomery for me then so help me god I will tear everybody limb from limb who's standing in my way as I do it myself! No, no- stop talking. Immediately. I'm not listening to anything you're saying, priesty boy. No, I don't care if Axel sees my dress! I am looking for my god damn MOH. What do you mean what's an MOH? You work here, surely you've met someone as interested in the art of abbreviations as myself. My goodness, I can't believe you or any of this. Let me spell it out for you: I. Am. Looking. For. My. Maid. Of. Honour. Comprende?"

I cringed at the offensiveness of the entirety of Skylar's stress-induced rant. In my haste to reach her before her head imploded from what I knew to be anxiety levels of a cosmic size, I all but pushed an elderly lady clean off her feet. I quickly shot my hands out to steady her, leaving them there for a few moments to make sure she was stable.

"I am so sorry-" I began, but stopped short as her wrinkled face looked up to meet my gaze. This wasn't just any old lady, this was Skylar's grandmother and she wasn't upset in the slightest about our run-in. In fact the woman was so happy to see me that her mega-watt toothy grin turned into one of gums as her dentures flew from her mouth to sit by my feet. After handing her back her smile and partaking in a saliva-slick handshake (yes, my bridesmaid dress was now covered in grandmother spit because I needed to wipe it away somewhere after pleasantries and Parker had my Kleenex in his suit pocket - remind me again why so many dresses didn't have those?) it was her turn to start pushing me about the place.

"Thank goodness," Her voice was small and raspy and I could only make out the occasional phrase. "Psycho granddaughter," She wheezed. "Late! Things will be fixed now! Good! Wish I had my teeth and not my ears! Much screaming!"

For a frail woman of such short stature her strength came as something of a shock, my feet too slow for my brain and only moving thanks to her tough pushing which ceased to be once I reached Skylar's side. Her ranting hadn't toned itself down in the slightest and I don't think it would have done any time soon had she not become aware of my presence.

"FLORA!" She screamed, and the relief upon her glittering face was palpable. Shimmering lipstick, eyeshadow and highlighter; it was as if Skylar's makeup was made of the frost seen outside during winter, silver drawing attention to all of her best features and, in this particular moment, emphasising her icy mood. "I would kill you if you weren't serving such a vital purpose today. Just as bloody well I told everyone to come earlier than was necessary or else we'd be having real issues."

"Wait, so technically I'm not even la-?"

"Enough. Come now."

I wasn't at all sure where I had thought Skylar would lead me, but my first thought hadn't at all been the girl's bathroom. Before I knew what was happening she was locking the door behind us and hiking up her leg in the most unlady-like fashion, foot wedged in the sink and dress riding so far up it left her garter exposed.

"Is there a reason that I'm seeing this much of your thigh, and in the public bathroom no less, or are we just in here for the thrill of it?"

She gave me a look. "We're in the bathroom because I can't bloody stand that room I've been allocated to fix myself in. Everybody's there and they just keep faffing around. Touching and prodding and crying at me. Now you, my emotionally confused and too-awkward-to-cry-in-public friend, are exactly who I need right now in this hideous dilemma."

"Dilemma?"

"My garter." She huffed, pulling at the ruffled white band that encircled her leg. "It's decided to attach itself to the lining of my dress and I can't detach it. You can't ignore it when the dress is down either, it doesn't sit right. It's ripping it all up on the inside and looks- wrong."