I noticed I wasn’t itching now.
Maybe the rev was right and I really would be back on my feet in a jiffy. Maybe being carried off by Pearce in this primal way would stir my emotions. Maybe we all did need to try a lot harder to be nicer to each other in this big, crazy world. I could do that, couldn’t I? For a little bit, at least?
For long enough, maybe, to get back in there and get this wedding over with?
THE BRIDAL ROOMhad a sofa, and Pearce laid me down on it, lifting my head to slide what had to behis own thighunder my head, like a throw pillow. A cool hand appeared against my forehead as someonechecked me for a fever. I heard my mom asking if smelling salts were still a thing.
Here was the truth of it: I couldn’t stay unconscious forever.
Pearce stayed right there, bent over me protectively, holding one of my hands as my mother took charge. You know that feeling you get when you know someone’s watching you? I felt that feeling on the sofa from Pearce.
Something about that seemed impossibly sweet.
He was showing up for me in just the right way, and it surprised me so much.
I could do this. I could open my eyes, say I felt better, and get back out there.
I could marry the man holding my hand. Icould.
And so, at that thought, I opened my eyes, planning to act dazed and lightheaded.
But the first thing I saw wasn’t Pearce’s clean-shaven, dimpled chin. It was an unruly pigeon beard.
“Cooper?” I said, in a tone likeSeriously?
His name came out louder than I meant it to.
Loud enough that the whole room turned to stare at me.
The thigh I’d been resting on, and the chest I’d been cradled against, and the hand now currentlystillholding mine—the one I’d been thinking I could marry after all—had been Cooper? All along?
“Where’s Pearce?” I asked, pushing myself up.
I looked around as the whole room rushed over—my mom, my grandma, my siblings, the rev, Mrs. Allen. My eyes scanned right and then left, landing at last back on Cooper.
He winked.
Meanwhile, my mother wasn’t mad—yet. “Sweetheart, you fainted at the altar!” she said, like she had front-page news.
I remembered I was supposed to be woozy, so I put my hand to my head.
At that, Cooper scooted closer to me and pulled me against his shoulder as a bolster.
My mother was all concern, leaning in. “Is something hurting? Did you get lightheaded?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m okay.”
“Ashley,” my mom said, snapping her fingers at my sister, “get her a glass of water.” Then my mom perched beside me while we waited. “Reverend Martin says this kind of thing happens all the time. Young brides overthink it. They forget to breathe. Next thing you know, they’re passed-out unconscious.” She patted my knee. “But once they reoxygenate, they’re good to go.”
Where was Pearce right now, exactly?
My mom stayed focused, trying to find the teachable moment. “Number-one rule for weddings—and life, too, I suppose. Just keep breathing.”
Next, Ashley arrived with the water.
“Okay,” my mom said, like now we were getting somewhere. “Big swig of this”—she touched the bottom of the glass as I took some gulps—“and then a little extra oxygen”—she demonstrated an in-through-the-nose breath so forceful that her nostrils moved with the suction—“and then we’ll get you back out there.”
I wasn’t sure what to do now.
