All roads lead to the wedding these days. And shockingly, most of the logistics of this last-minute event seem to be falling into place. The next item on the to-do list is the dress.
“So I’ll need you all ready tomorrow at noon for the appointment at LuAnne’s, alright? All the girls are going.”
“Oooh.” Anna Carol claps her hands. “Including me?”
“No, sugarmuffin, I’m sorry. I meant all thegrown-upladies.”
Anna Carol sighs but, undeterred, turns to Cara. “Aunt Cara, are you going to wear a face wig?”
“A face wig?” Cara asks confused—while I’m still stuck on the fact that Anna Carol is already referring to her as an “aunt.”
“She means a veil,” Linney explains.
I feel the blood in my veins freeze at the mention of a veil, as I look up first at Linney and then at Mom. If Mom offers to let Cara wear the Walker family veil, the one passed down from Meema, that Mom and Linney both got turns wearing, I will lose it. That veil is meant for me next. It’s a family heirloom, and it holds a lot of significance for me. I open my mouth to try and steer us away from that topic, but Mom beats me to it:
“LuAnne’s got some great options, and we can match it perfectly to the dress,” Mom says, and I sigh with relief. “I’m so glad you want to wear a veil, Cara. All these modern brides are choosing to go without. But this is perfect.” She claps her hands together. “And I can embroider your initials in blue—that’ll be yoursomething blue!”
Cara looks at my mom. “Really?” For the first time all evening,her smile doesn’t look fake at all but completely genuine. “That’s—that’s so nice of you Mrs. Bennet. I mean, Joan.”
“Honey, it’ll be mypleasure!” Mom says.
And watching the way her face has lit up over this idea, I know it definitely will.
I glance over at Nate, who’s been oddly quiet. I’d been expecting to share an eye roll, but instead, he’s just looking at his sister and my mom, with something so tender written on his face that it takes my breath away.
17
AFTER THE GAME WRAPSup—Tripp pulled out the win, which was annoying, but still better than Cara claiming victory—I make my way up to bed.
When I reach the second floor landing, I catch Linney and Pete huddled together in the hall, their heads bent so close they’re practically touching. As soon as the floorboard creaks under my foot, they spring apart like I’ve caught them plotting a heist.
“Everything okay?” I ask, eyeing them curiously.
“Fine,” Linney says, smoothing her hair with a speed that screamsguilty.
“What were you guys talking about?” I feel like I did as a kid when they’d shut me out of their secret twin gossip sessions.
“Just… wedding stuff,” Pete says.
“Exactly.” Linney nods. “So I’m sureyouwouldn’t be interested.”
She gives me a tight, dismissive smile before ushering Pete into her room. I stand there for a second, scrutinizing the closed door.But I’m too tired to play detective, so I let it go and continue on to my temporary room.
Flopping down on the air mattress, I pull out my cell phone to find three missed calls and a text from Sybil:CALL ME!
My heart jumps into my throat, and I immediately press her speed dial.
“Sybs, are you okay? What happened? Is it Jamie?”
“I’m fine, he’s fine!” Sybil reassures me. “Sorry to freak you out, I just haveamazingnews.”
I let out a long breath, my pulse finally slowing down. That’s Sybil for you—she exists in a state of extremes, where a cool vintage find and a literal grease fire get the same number of exclamation points. I’m glad this time she’s excited for a good reason.
“Lay it on me,” I say.
“I found you theperfectapartment. It’s a two-bedroom off Abbot Kinney. Top floor, exposed brick, and—get this—a private rooftop terrace with a view of the ocean. The owner is, like, some ninety-year-old screenwriting legend who is just keeping it for nostalgia and is willing to rent it for dirt cheap. I met his granddaughter in the produce section at Erewhon—” I smile. This is also classic Sybil. Meeting people in the most random places and getting their entire life story. “—and she said they want to rent it soon, but I basically forced them to keep it on the market until you get back. They can show it to you next Friday.”
“Friday,” I repeat, sitting on the edge of the narrow mattress. I can barely wrap my head around the concept of next Friday. It feels like a lifetime away, yet somehow too close. I’m just trying to keep my head above water in the here and now. “That’s… that’s incredible, Sybil!” I force myself to say. “Wow!”
