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“He’s here for the wedding, of course.”
Wooziness causes twinkle lights to dance behind my eyes. I press the heel of my palm to my forehead, inhaling a deep breath. When I start coughing uncontrollably, there’s a gentle pat along my spine. I massage my throat, then glance behind me.
My eyes pop with disbelief.
It’s Brant’s mother.
She looks exactly the way she looked in the Christmas ornament photograph, with cocoa-butter hair and marmalade eyes. Pure warmth and sweetness. “I–I–I don’t understand…”
“Oh, June. I couldn’t be happier.”
“But you’re—”
“Dead?” She smirks, ducking her head. “I suppose I am. But magic can happen over the rainbow…if you dare to dream.”
Brant’s mom appears to float down a long corridor, so I follow, my fever creeping its way back and heating my ears and neck. She leads me into a Victorian-style room—or a room I’d expect to find back in the olden days, with jewel hues and vintage furniture, busy wallpaper and heavy drapery.
Brant’s mother—I think her name was Caroline—taps the top of a tufted armchair with a curling iron in her grip. “Come, now, June. Let’s get you all dolled up.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m too sick.” I begin to sway, my fever spiking. “I can’t make it to the wedding.”
“Oh, but you must. You’re the bride.”
What?
“Yeah, Peach, you can’t bail on us. I spent hours writing this speech.”
I whirl around, spotting Theo collapsed on a floral settee. He clears his throat, a slip of paper clutched in his fist. He’s also dressed in a fancy tuxedo. “Theo?”
“‘Once upon a time, my mom was going to have a baby, and I just knew it would be a girl,’” he reads, his opposite hand waving animatedly. “‘I was going to name her Butterfly, but someone else came along and gave her a different name—Junebug. Not at all a glamorous bug, but the name sounded cute nonetheless. Just like my baby sister. And they both have wings, which was fitting…because this little girl was destined to fly.’”
There’s a tickle on my back, so I arch my neck and discover two giant wings stuck to my shoulder blades. They flap all by themselves.
Flip, flap. Flutter, flutter.
This is madness. This can’t possibly be real. I race over to Theo, shaking his shoulders as I demand, “Please, take me back home. I’m going to miss Christmas. None of this makes sense!”
He only smiles.
“Please,” I repeat, my grip on him slackening. “I’m not supposed to be here, Theo.”
A sigh leaves him, a hand lifting to curl around my wrist. “Of course you are, Peach. Everything in your life has brought you to this day.”
“Impossible. I’m only twelve! I’m too young to get married.”
“None of that matters here, little sis.”
“Oh, Theo, please take me home…”
I collapse beside him on the settee, and he pulls me close. “You are home, silly. Besides, I haven’t even finished reading you my speech.”
“Can’t you tell it to me on the day I actually get married? In real life?”
Theo pauses, dipping his head for a minute before meeting my gaze. His eyes twinkle with a galaxy of stars as a soft smile touches his lips. “I think I’d rather tell you now.”
My head radiates with pain. My lungs feel heavy and full, desperate for reprieve. I rest my temple on his shoulder, while chills pulsate through me. “Fine,” I relent.
“Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “Okay, Peach, listen closely because this next part is important. Got it?”
