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)
He helps me step up onto the altar, and a man with a gray beard and green eyes begins to speak. He’s obviously the fake officiant that Norah said Breezy hired, and he starts his speech by welcoming everyone to the wedding and thanking them for being here.
Clay’s eyes are on me the entire time. I can feel them. And I look everywhere else but at his face as a matter of self-preservation.
“Now, it’s time for each of you to recite your vows,” the officiant says, moving this fake ceremony right along. “Josie, you’ll be first.”
God help me. I force a deep breath in and out of my lungs and make myself look at my ex-husband. And man, I hate how easily he can hold my eye contact. Hate how my mind can still think about how good he looks. Hate that my heart still aches at the mere sight of him.
So many memories are wrapped up in me and him and this town and even Summer, and this isn’t helping them fade away. This isn’t helping at all.
“Josie, do you take Clay to be your husband, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?” the officiant asks, and my flight-or-fight instincts kick in so hard that I feel my entire body vibrate.
I said yes once. Look at how that turned out.
33
Clay
Tuesday, August 31st
Josie swings her head away from the officiant, bypassing me entirely, to look toward the crowd. Her spine is stiff, her mouth set into a firm line, but she is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
This wedding, fake or not, comes so fucking close to the real Red Bridge wedding I once imagined we’d have all those years ago, I can practically taste it.
I miss her and us, and I ache to make her see that she misses us too.
I glance from Josie to Summer, her smile so bright from her chair as she looks on. Memories of her as a toddler and the time I drew a little bridal Josie and a little groom Clay in her coloring book and told her that Clay wants to marry Josie because he loves her while we hung out in the bar hold steady in my mind.
I meant it, and today, the picture I painted is coming to life right in front of sweet Summer’s eyes as one of her greatest final wishes. A burn starts inside me that I’m increasingly afraid I won’t be able to extinguish.
There’s a purpose today. A point that’s hard to miss in her specialized chair right in the front. And yet, all I see is Josie. Josie in my bar trying to catch cheaters. Josie distracting me on the water tower in the sexiest fucking way. Josie laughing like a lunatic in Grandma Rose’s kitchen when I was trying to learn how to make her famous fried chicken. Josie in my T-shirt, dancing around my apartment to her favorite eighties music. Josie helping Bennett and me take care of Summer when they first arrived in Red Bridge. Josie and me eloping at the courthouse.
And now, she stands before me, dressed in a white dress, and I’m holding my breath for her to say “I do.” And fuck, even though it’s fake, even though we’re here to grant one of Summer’s wishes, my heart wishes it were all real.
The officiant clears his throat, probably hoping a little encouragement will get Josie to say the words. And when that doesn’t happen, Bennett clears his throat, though it’s to no avail.
Silence has now consumed the entire ceremony, and I discreetly squeeze Josie’s hands. I clear my throat, and her eyes snap away from the crowd and back to me.
C’mon, Josie. Just say it.
She narrows her eyes. Her mouth is still set in the firmest line I’ve ever seen. But the words, “Fine. Yes. I do. Whatever,” roll off her tongue.
A cackle comes from the crowd, and I know everyone in this town well enough to know that it came straight from Eileen Martin’s lips. I grit my teeth, hoping like hell that Josie doesn’t jump off this altar and throttle her, and I’m relieved when the only thing that follows is the officiant’s next line.
“And do you, Clay, take Josie to be your wife, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. He’s barely finishing the question before I’m proudly saying, “I do,” everything in my voice a determined declaration and loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear. “I’ve done it before, and I’d do it again every damn day of my life.”
Josie’s eyes narrow further, her gaze directly on my currently smiling face. She’s pissed, but I don’t care. I’ve been dreaming of this day for what feels like my entire life, and now that it’s here, I’m going to enjoy this moment that I get to stand in front of my closest friends and declare my love for this woman.