Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Actually, Bennett was in charge of that. We kind of tag-teamed the bride and groom task.”
“And who did Bennett pick?” I ask carefully, my hackles rising with a sense of dread. I already know what she’s going to say, and still, the nostalgic pit in my churning stomach doesn’t want to believe it.
Norah mumbles something, but her back is to me again, so I press harder. “Who, Norah?”
“Um…Clay Harris.” Her voice is a whisper, but I hear the expected words loud and clear. Clay is Bennett’s best friend. He’s single, so there’s no girlfriend or wife to get needlessly jealous, and Summer is attached to him, so it’ll make the whole thing all the more special.
It makes sense. And yet, it’s the cruelest thing the universe has thrown at me in a long time.
“I must be losing it. Because I could’ve sworn you just said Clay Harris, and I know there’s no way my sister would put me in that situation,” I answer on an incredulous laugh. She doesn’t know the whole story—she doesn’t even know half of it—but she does know we’re divorced, and she’s a smart enough girl to figure there’s a reason. “Who is my fake groom?”
Slowly, so slowly it feels like a mode on a camera, she turns tenuously and meets my eyes. Apology and guilt and even a little bit of shame reside in the depths of her baby blues, and my jaw makes a bid for my knees.
She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. We both know what’s happening with crystal-clear clarity.
“Norah, I mean this with the most love I can muster…but what in the fuck were you thinking?” I blurt out on a shout, and my hands shake with anger. One glance in the mirror and I see a mess of red splotches have found a place on my chest. I look down at the dress that she convinced me to put on—it’s white, of course—and then back over at her. My gaze is so intense, my eyeballs might as well be shooting laser beams at her head.
“I was thinking that there’s a sad, scared, sick little girl who wants with all of her heart to see a wedding take place today, even if it’s fake, and I hardly know anyone here, so I figured you could play the bride.”
She figured I could play the bride, and with Bennett’s help, they’ve managed to drag me into a situation I thought would only happen in my nightmares. Or if I ended up in hell.
Marrying Clay Harris? Again? Fake or not, it feels like the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever been forced to be a part of.
“Oh. I see. You just thought I could play the bride. To Clay’s groom. Are you insane?”
My sister winces. “Well, technically, Bennett and I did not confer on our choices for bride and groom, but now that it’s happening, I suppose it makes sense, given their friendship and all.”
I can’t believe this is happening right now!
“I already married that man once, and it didn’t end well,” I snap, still glaring at my now-shamefaced sister. “I’d have to be ’round the actual bend to do it again!”
“It’s not real, Jose,” she tries to reassure me. “Breezy found some fake officiant on the internet. It’s not like you’re actually marrying him. This is no more serious than a young girl playing dress-up in her closet.”
Playing dress-up? Is she for real? Playing dress-up is supposed to be fun. A good time. This is the equivalent of getting a root canal and major abdominal surgery at the same time without anesthesia. Though, I think in order for that to really equal how messed up this is, there’d need to be an actual train wreck occurring while we’re saying our fake vows.
I huff and sigh and pace the small space of the tent, occasionally eyeing my sister with the kind of disdain that has her mouth spreading out into a cringe.
Fake-marry Clay Harris? Besides the first time I real-married him, this is the worst idea anyone has ever had. I growl and stomp my foot, and Norah just stands there, her tight body language showcasing her fear and hesitation.
Fuck. This is horrible.
I pace and turn and wring my hands together, desperate to find a way out of this clusterfuck. My eyes flit and wander and scour, trying to find something that’ll free me from the obligation, but instead, they find the opposite.
In Norah’s hands, she holds a pink bouquet I know is the bride’s by the size, and a wave of emotion for a little girl I helped care for right after she was born floods over me.
Summer Beatrice Bishop.
Soft giggles, pink sunglasses, endless smiles, sweet cuddles, and unbelievable happiness. She’s the embodiment of special, and now, she’s someone important not only to me and the town and Bennett and Clay…but my sister.