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There’s a round of polite applause and Paisley whirls around angrily. “No, it wasn’t supposed to be you! That’s Hannah’s! Give it to her!”
The photographer is clicking away, taking shots of me with the now wilted bouquet but then turning to take a burst of shots of Paisley, who’s definitely not looking her best. If looks could kill, I’d be a puddle of Janey Juice at her feet.
Doubt that’s going to be in the wedding album!
“Nope, rules are rules. I caught it, it’s mine,” I shoot back, suddenly ready to throw down over this bouquet. If Paisley’s expecting me to give in and hand it over to Hannah, she’s dead wrong. Not this time.
Something’s changed from last night till tonight.
It’s me.
Even with the distance we’ve had, I think I was holding on to a thread of hope that my family would eventually be decent, and that’s why those habits were so easy to fall back into. But I’m finally fully realizing that my family won’t ever change, so I need to quit giving in to them, worrying about their reactions, and caring what they think.
There’s a clarity in my mind and heart that I’ve never felt before, and the weight of all of their drama is simply gone. At least for the moment.
I just need to be Janey. The best Janey Williams I can be, I remember Cole saying.
And they can take it or leave it, and honestly, there are several who don’t get the choice. I’m choosing to leave them . . . starting with my biggest childhood bully, Paisley Roberts. Oops, I mean Paisley McMahan since she’s taking Max’s last name.
People say standing up to a bully will make them leave you alone, and maybe that works if the bully is coming from a place of insecurity, but Paisley’s sitting on a throne of entitlement, so challenging her, particularly in a time that’s already emotionally charged, isn’t gonna be that easy. She’s not backing down.
No, she lets loose with a harpy shriek, running toward me with outstretched hands, her long, French-manicured nails looking like claws. She grabs at the bouquet but also gets a handful of my hair, which she yanks hard.
“Give. It. To. Hannah!” she orders.
Verbal warfare? Not my forte. Physical? Even less so, despite my telling Cole that I know karate. But I flail about, doing my best to get Paisley off me. It looks and feels more like bad grappling, and we fall to the floor, brawling around like drunk girls at a mud-wrestling competition. Only there’s no mud, just a supposed-to-be-classy, monogrammed dance floor.
I kick out a leg, which Paisley counters by wrapping her own giraffe length leg around it. I manage to get an arm out—not the one holding the bouquet which I’m still holding tightly—and push at Paisley’s chest, getting a little space between us. But it’s not enough. She must be part honey badger or something because where she was mean before, she’s now essentially feral.
“Let go!” I scream. “Help!”
The next thing I know, Paisley is being physically lifted off me. Cole has had quite enough of my family’s shenanigans and has literally lifted the bride with one hand by the back of her dress, prying her fingers from the mess of my curls with his other. It doesn’t escape my notice that not a single one of my family tried to stop Paisley. Max’s family I can probably excuse because they’re in shock, but my family has seen this before.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” Paisley whines loudly. “Daddy, he’s breaking my nails!”
“Then let go,” Cole roars. He sounds pissed. I feel Paisley’s hand finally relax as she releases my curls from her fist, and she’s lifted fully clear of me.
Instead of throwing her across the floor, Cole sets Paisley down with a modicum of restraint. She in return stomps her foot in full on tantrum mode. “You ruined my wedding! You ruin everything!” she screeches at me like I’m the one who attacked her.
“What did I do?” I ask as Cole helps pull me to my feet. “Catch the bouquet you threw?”
I scan the room, thinking surely, everyone sees how crazy Paisley is now.
But they’re not looking at Paisley. They’re looking at me and Cole, who’s kneeling to help smooth my dress into place. I glance down at him, kinda wondering what’s taking so long. Did I rip my skirt in the melee? Flash everyone my panties? Worse?
He’s on one knee, his blue eyes looking extra intense like he’s trying to tell me something I can’t decipher as he takes my hands in his own, holding the bouquet with me. And then I see the tiny lift of his lips, just on one side. That’s his amused smile.
“Janey Susannah Williams, you are the best and brightest thing in my life. You see good in the world where I see none. You feel compassion for those who deserve none. You love with abandon and without any self-preservation, inspiring me to finally believe that love exists.”
