Page 8 of Unmasking My Dark Knight

Tallulah and Gustav ran in circles, pacing back and forth on their phones. Their stress level was a bit much for me.

At some point, I retreated to my room to grab my book. It was the only one I could read to de-stress, and at this point, this trip was beyond stressful. But the sun was starting to set. Wasn’t apple picking supposed to happen hours ago? What was the holdup?

Tallulah cleared her throat. I looked up to see that her eyes were wider than a full moon.

“What gives, Tal?” I asked.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “This entire activity is fucked.”

I’d forgive her foul language; it was her wedding week.

“Why?” I asked to be nosy.

Her lips spread into a tight, thin line as she gestured to the lack of guests behind her.

“And?” I rolled my eyes because I was just as upset. I’d been in the middle of my book; I wasn’t a psychic. If I were, though, I’d guess Tallulah wanted to run away from this wedding already—girl, me too.

“We’re missing, like, the rest of the guests who won’t be in for another two hours and we… ugh!” Tallulah sighed, all flustered, into the echoey foyer.

She kept droning on and on about how she had invited her closest friends, and how most of them couldn’t get here early because they didn't have something called 'PTO.'

“What the heck is PTO?” I asked, closing my book.

“It's paid time off,” she answered, looking agitated.

“You get paid for time off? That's not fair!” I said, jealous.

“You need to have a job to earn PTO. And why are you even complaining? Your whole life is already paid time off, Ivy Jade,” she said, but it still didn’t make sense. Can’t people just leave when they want to? All I could think about was how lucky we were to have Ben. I wished they had Ben in their life, too. Sigh.

I felt bad for Tallulah. She was so stressed. Brides never looked good under stress. We were barely thirty years old, and she already had more bags under her eyes than I did. Yikes. Weren’t brides supposed to be calm and relaxed? We were supposed to make cider with the apples we picked; maybe we should just skip the labor and go straight to the fun?

“Ivy Jade!” Tallulah snapped my attention back.

“Yeah?”

“Did you catch anything I said?” she asked. I furrowed my brow to think, but before I could answer, she said exasperated, “I need you to please hold onto the rings for me. I’m way too overstimulated right now. Can you take care of them?”

“What maid of honor can’t take care of her bride’s rings? Duh! They’ll be safe with me.”

“Thank you. I really needed that.”

She gave me a single box that held both her and my brother’s wedding bands. I opened them up to peek. They were both black wedding bands. How? Why? Who?!

“Aren’t they so beautiful?” Tallulah said, finally looking at ease, as she picked them up to look at them closely. “Your brother, you know him… he’d been dying for a black wedding band for himself.”

I checked her engagement ring on her finger. “But your wedding band won’t match?” I squeaked.

“I don’t care if my rings match. I love that our bands match together. That’s all I really care about, you know. I just love and adore Gustav so much. He’s like this really incredibly smart man, but then he’s also really, like really amazing in bed–”

“Ah!” I stopped her right there. “Say less, please. Family ears.”

“Right,” Tallulah smiled. “We used to be able to talk about this kind of stuff, though.”

“Obviously, when you weren’t with my brother. Now that topic is off limits. Imagine if I asked you questions about your older sister’s or brother’s sex life.”

“Yuck! You win,” she said.

She put the bands back in the box, and I closed it, then put it in my purse. “How come Gustav didn’t propose with Mami’s engagement ring?” I asked.