One
The Jaguar rental was a mistake.
Not because I can’t drive it—oh, I can drive the hell out of this car. But because it looks like I belong in it.
And that’s the problem.
Everyone here thinks I’m the hometown girl who made it big and never looked back. The girl who flew to the big city and lives in a loft and takes important meetings over brunch. They think I’m rich, successful, and have it all together. And I want them to keep believing that.
But the truth? I have about three weeks of savings left before I’ll have to move back here to South Carolina and crash in my childhood bedroom like the cautionary tale of every failed entrepreneur.
The thought makes my stomach twist as I kill the engine in front of Wilder Ever After, a Gothic fairy tale of a bridal boutique nestled between an antique shop and a bakery.
Before I can continue second-guessing everythingabout my life choices, my phone buzzes against the leather console.
Mackenzie.
I sigh and answer. “If you’re calling to make sure I actually showed up, the answer is yes.”
“Good,” she says, a little breathless. “I had a feeling you’d try to escape.”
I roll my eyes, even though she’s not wrong.
“I’m not escaping,” I mutter, adjusting the thin strap of my dress that’s already sticking to my skin in the South Carolina humidity. “I’m sitting in a very nice rental car outside the bridal boutique, trying to remember why I agreed with you that having your wedding in the South at the beginning of summer was a good idea.”
Mackenzie snorts. “Because you love me, obviously. And because, if I had it in fall like my mama wanted, we both know she’d turn it into some sort of shabby chic barnyard-themed nightmare.”
That earns a laugh. “Ah, yes. Now I remember.”
“Stop stalling and get inside,” she says. “I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner.”
I hang up and exhale slowly, staring through the windshield.
The boutique is beautiful. Ivy-covered brick, arched windows draped in silk, sunlight catching on crystals that send rainbow prisms through the store.
I should be excited to be here. I should be thrilled to see Mackenzie, to celebrate, to pretend for one weekend that my life hasn’t completely gone to shit. Instead, all I can think about is how quickly a month can disappear.
The bell chimes as I step inside, and cool, lavender-scented air washes over me. The place is pure witchyromance. Bridal gowns hang like ghosts along the walls, shimmering with lace and satin. Vintage furniture is cluttered with crystals, tarot decks, and floral arrangements designed to manifest true love.
It’s very Mackenzie.
I drag my fingers across a nearby velvet-covered chair, but my mind is already cataloging the space like I’m in a client meeting.
The lighting’s too harsh for an intimate setting. The floral arrangements are too symmetrical. And those pink…vagina sculptures? Bold choice.
“This is a vacation,” I mutter to myself, picking up a brochure about crafting your own magickal bouquet.
The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m supposed to be here as a bridesmaid, supporting my best friend since diapers, but all I can think about is work even though I don’t technically have a job anymore.
A burst of movement catches my eye as a girl rushes out from behind a display of tulle and crystal dildos—yes, dildos, because why not? Her wild red curls frame a round face dusted with freckles, her button nose scrunched in concentration. She looks both adorable and like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, her wide brown eyes darting around the shop as if something is about to explode.
“Oh! Hi! Welcome to Wilder Ever After!” The girl—Elsie, according to her name tag—practically vibrates. “Are you here for a consultation? Or maybe a fitting? Oh, I bet you’re here for the sample sale—we’ve gotthemost amazing deals today.”
She’s a whirlwind of energy, her red hair bouncing as she springs toward me like she’s been shot out of aconfetti cannon.
“No, I, uh—” I start, but before I can finish, she’s talking a mile a minute.
“Like,seriouslyamazing. And, oh, all our statues are 20 percent off! Well, that’s just the fertility statues, though. The gods and goddesses—Aphrodite, Demeter, Priapus, Ostara, Dionysus—they’re all still full price. But you know, if you’re looking to manifest something…”
