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My clammy hand shoves into my purse. Where’s my damn lipgloss when I need it?
I hear a ding from my phone. Desperate for a distraction from the tears forming behind my eyes, I dig the device out of the bottom of my bag. There’s a text message from my sister.
Stacey: Hey. I know that you’re away at your bestie’s wedding. But shoot me a text when you’re back home. There’s something I have to tell you
My stomach drops when I read that last line. Anxiety takes over.Gosh. What happened now…?
And because my sister knows my tendency to jump to the worst case scenario, a moment later, another message shows up.
Stacey: Not something bad. I promise.
Yeah, right.
Okay, that’s not fair. My sister used to be a hardcore rebel as a teenager. She had a bad attitude and a massive chip standing tall and proud on her shoulder. She was headed down the wrong path at breakneck speed. For a while, I was so damn worried about her.
But I’ve got to give her the credit she deserves for slowly turning things around. Especially after she almost lost Louis.
I smother down all the lingering resentment I still feel towards my sister. I remind myself that she was still practically a kid when everything happened. She’s different now.
Unlike our mother, she’s trying. I need to remember that.
Suppressing a sigh. I type out a quick, neutral reply.
Alana: I’ll call you when I’m back in town
I dial up Meghan, but the phone rings and rings with no answer. Probably for the best, because with the way I’m feeling right now, I’m not in the headspace to answer any questions from my bestie. I’m very likely one ‘how are you?’ away from exploding into snotty, hysterical tears.
It might be a good idea to save what little self-control I have left to make it through the wedding ceremony. So I just slip my phone back into my purse.
Davis and I continue the rest of our drive with that cranky, bitter tensionsitting shotgun between us. Every once in a while, I’ll announce an upcoming exit or where to turn on the way to the Kingston Family Guesthouse, but the bubble we lived in while staying in Starlight Falls has burst and evaporated into nothing but a sweet memory.
Just another collection of lost moments I’ll catalogue in the scrapbook of my mind.
Out of the enchanting fairytale. Back to the cruel grip of the real world.
Story of my pathetic life…
25
DAVIS
We drive straight to the wedding venue, not even stopping for a bathroom break. Even though I’ve needed to pee for the last twenty miles.
I expected that we’d be running inside the inn, changing into our wedding attire and then darting down the aisle to stand up at the altar with Cash and Meghan.
But when Alana and I hustle into the rustic lobby with our luggage and our garment bags and that icky tension between us, we quickly realize that we won’t be headed down the aisle after all. The scene here at the Kingston Family Guesthouse is not at all what we were anticipating.
The wedding’s been canceled.
The storms have all cleared out finally, moving to the east, and the bright golden sunshine stands proudly in the sky this afternoon.
Still, it’s too late.
Meghan is a blubbering mess, standing in the middle of the lobby with her mother and the guesthouse owner. The bride’s hair is all done up with flowers and big swoopy curls. The fancy hairstyle and makeup don’t quite go with the sweatshirt and sneakers she’s wearing, though.
Alana immediately hustles over to where the women are standing and wraps her best friend in a big hug.
The guesthouse owner—Mrs. Kingston—is doing her best to calm the bride down, bending over backward to try and remedy the situation. I hear all sorts of options being thrown around, from trying to re-book for the next available wedding date to offering a full refund.
