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Chapter Six
Peyton
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“Can you believe howsnazzy this place is?” Henna slides up next to me in the bridal dressing room. Tonight is our dry run of the ceremony, or rehearsal as I guess it’s typically called.
I’ve been somewhat dreading this day. But I’m not really sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m not a huge fan of weddings or being in them more specifically. Or maybe it’s because I knowhewill be here.
Abel.
I haven’t been able to shake him from my mind since watching him run out of House of Blues without so much as a backward glance.
I tried not to be offended, but honestly, it’s kind of impossible not to be. I’ve run it over in my head a hundred times, trying to figure out what I could have done to send him sprinting toward the door.
The only thing I’ve been able to come up with is that it didn’t have anything to do with me at all. And yet deep down I still feel like, in some weird way, it did.
“Earth to Peyton.” Henna pulls me back to the conversation, making me realize that she’s been waiting on me to respond.
“Sorry, what?” I shake my head, refocusing on my friend.
“I was just saying how nice this place is.” She gestures around the room.
She’s not wrong. The church is beautiful. I can’t say I’ve ever seen one quite so elaborate, or big for that matter.
“We’ve known Sam for years. It really shouldn’t surprise you that she would find the nicest church in Chicago to get married in.”
“True. She’s making it really difficult for the day that one of us gets married. There’s no way we’re going to be able to top this.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I arch a questioning brow at her. “You two have always been way too competitive for your own good.” I pause. “I wouldn’t want to match this. To me, it’s all a bit much. The reception hall, the over the top church, the dresses.” I give her a knowing look.
Our bridesmaid dresses are beautiful, but far too elaborate if you ask me. Dark blue, off the shoulder, floor length gowns, with two-foot-long lace trains. When we went in for our fittings, I couldn’t believe that she picked out bridesmaids’ dresses with trains. For one, I thought only the bride had a train on her dress, and secondly, they aren’t very practical. I’m already taking bets in my head on how many times mine will get stepped on over the course of the night.
“I’m with you on the dresses. But then again, it’s Sam.” She laughs to herself. “How would you do it?”
“How would I do what?” I question, not following.
“Your wedding. What would you do differently?”
“Everything,” I admit. “For starters, I’d rather have a small intimate ceremony. I wouldn’t have a large wedding party either. Too much work.”
“Is that your way of telling me that I won’t be in your wedding?” She looks at me expectantly.
“Guess we will see,” I tease. “Besides, I think this conversation is a bit premature considering I’m not even dating anyone. At this rate I’ll never get married.”
“You’re twenty-six, Peyton. I think what’s premature is saying you’ll never get married. You could meet the love of your life tomorrow. You never know.” She shrugs. “Sometimes we find love in the most unexpected places.”
“Uh oh.” I lift my hand to stifle a laugh.
“What?” She seems confused.
“I know that look,” I tell her. “It’s only been two weeks.”
“And?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Refer to my previous statement.”
“You’re always such a buzz kill.” She pouts.
