***
I don’t hear from her again, but that’s okay. It was one night. I don’t text her, either, because there’s no point. Nor does she text me. But I hear from Jones and Jillian that she’s happy in Los Angeles, building her yoga empire with her sister.
So it goes. Sometimes you have one perfect night, and that’s all.
And sometimes you meet again more than seven years later.
The next time I see Katie, I’m a single dad with a six-year-old daughter, and it’s Katie’s wedding day.
Chapter 8
Katie
Present Day
I wasn’t one of those girls who imagined her wedding day from the time she was small.
Or at any time.
I didn’t fantasize about walking down the aisle and into the arms of the Prince Charming of my dreams.
No way.
For one, I was agnostic about the existence of Prince Charming. And two, I was emphatically atheistic about princesses.
Didn’t believe in being one, acting like one, or becoming one.
When I was growing up, my dreams were pragmatic—make friends, be awesome, and kick unholy ass.
I blame my dad.
He instilled in me a belief that I could do anything I set out to if I used my brain and heart.
Getting married was never on my vision board.
But today I amthatperson.
It’s my wedding day, and I just can’t wait to sayI do. Hell, I’ve been floating on air since Silvio proposed four months ago, after two mere months of dating.
“Fair warning. You three are going to have to stop me from running across the lawn and into Silvio’s arms,” I say to my crew as we get ready, my hairstylist working on my updo.
“Ah, so you’re going to be one ofthosebrides,” Emerson quips as she fishes in her makeup bag in the suite at the Legion of Honor, where I’ll be doing the aforementioned forty-yard dash into my tall, dark, and handsome groom’s arms.
I smile, owning it. “Yup. It’s going to be so cheesy, but so romantic, and none of you will be able to stop me. In fact, you’ll all melt into puddles of swoon,” I say.
Ever so briefly, a memory rushes over me.
A pint of Swoon.
But I push away the imaginary ice cream flavor. It’s bad form to think of past men on your wedding day, even for a second. And why would I when my main man might as well have stepped straight out of Central Casting and into the role of my Romeo?
My heart flutters.
I’m getting married.
The girl who never fantasized about dresses orI dosis ready to skip to her guy in about an hour.
Hold me back, world.
