Page 126 of The False Flat

Did Grant know I was listening? The shower had never turned on, and surely they could hear my sobs. Noise traveled both ways.

This was confirmed when he called my name. After I feebly said, “Yes,” he opened the door, and he and Deanna bent down to wrap me in their arms. And the three of us held on to each other.

“I shouldn’t have been listening.” I sucked in breath, my voice too high through tears.

“I told you not to cry on my wedding eve.” Grant brushed my hair back from my face, and they both pulled away slightly.

“Life is about balance,” he continued. “Without the bad things, we have no idea how good the good things are.” He smiled at me, then lifted me to my feet. “Now, help me give Deanna her present.”

She put a hand to her chest. “A present? For me?”

Grant grabbed the silver bag with the single piece of tissue I’d talked him into and held it out for his sister. “Merry Christmas.”

She eyed him as she glanced into the bag, then pulled out a small, framed picture of a black-and-white building, a picture I’d taken of Grant with his final, finished project several days ago.

She ran her finger around the inscription on the frame.

To: The greatest chef I’ve ever known. From: The greatest architect who ever lived.

Her eyebrows knit together, and Grant and I waited for Deanna to read the sign on the building above the door: DEANNA’S B AND B.

“Is this—” She stopped speaking, looked down at the picture again. “Is this real? This is mine?”

“You know anyone else named Deanna who wanted her own B and B because she’s a kick-ass chef, and who has a kick-ass brother who would build it for her?”

She threw the picture on the bed and wrapped Grant in a hug. “I don’t know what to say.” Over her shoulder, he winked at me, then looked pained and mouthed, Help me.

“Say you love it.” His voice was strained, like she was cutting off his oxygen. “Say you love me. Say whatever you want. Just don’t hug me again.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to waste my time with a B and B. What changed your mind?”

He proceeded to tell her how he’d found the place, how I’d inspired it. Then, he looked at me with admiration in his eyes, and it made me forget, for just a second, that I wasn’t wearing pants.

Deanna squealed. “I have this brand-spanking-new B and B because Pen’s a kick-ass businesswoman?”

“My fiancée is a kick-ass businesswoman, isn’t she? And yes, I wouldn’t have done all this if not for her.”

“This is nuts.” She sat on the bed and grabbed her head in disbelief.

He shook his head. “This is right.”

“I’m forever in debt to you both.” She hopped up and headed for the door. “My repayment starts tomorrow evening, by giving you the wedding you both deserve.” She moved out of the room and started down the hall, calling out, “I’m going to kill William if he didn’t bring my cream-colored satchel with the cloak!”

CHAPTER 51

LIFE REALIZATION #25: CLOAK WEARING IS UNDERRATED

In less than four thousand seconds, I would be Mrs. Penelope Miles. The mirror reflected a tall woman, hair in soft waves—flat iron, followed by a curling wand I’d borrowed from Deanna—gently pulled away from my face in a classy ponytail and accented on the left with a wiry, bejeweled barrette. A swipe of foundation, blush, lip gloss, and my dedicated eye regimen with added sparkle, and I’d transformed into a bride.

A bride.

Outdoors in December, at a friend’s wooded cabin, with the sun setting between the bare trees and just beyond a smattering of clouds: it felt right. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t scared. Okay, that was a total lie; I was shaking and nauseated, terrified of the future. But even with my stomach fluttering and a light sheen of nervous sweat on my skin, I didn’t doubt I was making the exact right decision.

I went back into the bedroom, stepped into a white velvet off-the-shoulder number Deanna had picked for me. The dress was hugging my body in all the right places when the door inched open and Deanna walked in.

She put her hands to her mouth. “You look . . .”

I turned around. “Button me?”