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Prologue
Zoe Andrews fluffed the sprig of baby’s breath surrounding her sister’s gauzy white veil then stood back and sighed.
It had taken almost a year to get to this day, and now that it was finally here, she felt like she had really accomplished something. Today, her flighty, fanciful sister was going to get married, and not to just anyone—to the most dependable, kindest bachelor in town.
And—not that she was taking credit—but she had been the one to set them up in the first place.
“How are you feeling?” She rubbed Quinn’s bare shoulder, careful not to brush against the sequined strap of her bridal gown. Zoe wasn’t sure if it was the white of her dress or simply the nerves of the day, but Quinn looked paler than usual—almost like she was about to faint. The rouge on her cheeks only helped to make her look that much more ghostly, and she clutched a flute of champagne like her life depended on it.
“Where are the other bridesmaids?” Quinn asked.
“They’re on their way. It’s sort of nice, just the two of us for now, though. Don’t you think? A real sisterly kind of moment.”
Quinn nodded, drained her champagne in one swallow and then held the back of her hand to her mouth as she burped.
“What’s the matter? Cold feet? You know Paul is—”
Quinn shook her head.
Zoe stayed her with a palm. “Your curls.” She fixed the elaborate nest beneath the veil, and Quinn pursed her lips.
“Right. The curls,” Quinn said. “Well, no, I don’t have cold feet. I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” Zoe pressed.
Quinn blew a long breath out her nose. “You’re not going to like it.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not the bride. You’re allowed to do anything you want today—including saying things I might not like. Have I been too overbearing? Is that it?”
Quinn gazed at her in the mirror, letting the silence punctuate her question, and then she shook her head again.
“Your curls,” Zoe insisted, giving them another fluff.
Quinn pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I’m just upset that Ian isn’t here, okay?”
This time, it was Zoe’s turn to be quiet.
“Look, I said you weren’t going to like it.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Zoe argued.
“Exactly.” Quinn poured herself another glass of champagne, holding the glass directly over her wedding dress. Zoe reached out and grabbed the bottle and glass, moving them away from the white satin. When the glass was full, she handed it back to Quinn.
“Worried about Ian?” Zoe asked, and when Quinn didn’t respond, she knew the answer. “He might still show,” Zoe told her, rubbing her shoulder.
“I’m not so sure. He sounded pretty adamant when I talked to him a few days ago.”
“And what’s up his butt this time?” Zoe arched a brow.
Quinn sighed. “Well, he was really looking forward to seeing you.”
Zoe grunted.
“No, it’s just…” Quinn set down her full champagne flute then twisted her fingers in her lap. “We had a little bit of a fight the other day. He was really mad. He thinks I shouldn’t settle for Paul.”
“Settle?” Zoe spat.
“That’s what he said.” Quinn shrugged. “He thinks I’m going with the dependable option when I should be trying to find someone crazy, wild, and spontaneous. He thinks Paul is dimming my shine.”
“You have enough shine for everyone in the church today combined. Nobody is worried about your shine,” Zoe said. “As usual, Ian doesn’t know anything, and he’s just saying this—”
“Don’t say it—”
“Because he’s jealous. He’s always been in love with you. You know that.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not like that,” Quinn said. “He’s only my friend, and he wants what’s best for me.”
“Well, I’m your older sister, and I want what’s best for you, too.”
