“Interesting.” Hailey blinks way too many times to be natural.
Part of me is wondering if she’s also on the same wavelength, tracking dates. It’s awfully fortunate to know in May that you’re coming into a windfall of insurance money for a fire that didn’t happen until June thirteenth.
She thinks she’s sofar beyond the Livingstons when her life—herbusiness—hasgone up in flames…
“Indeed,” I add, buzzing with pure, cold satisfaction.
Nora stares at me with her bright, pleading eyes, and I sense what she wants. She’s apologized. She’s explained. She’s trying to make things right.
While apologies mean nothing to me at this juncture, I respect the effort.
“Nora, you didn’t break up my family. Julian did,” I say. “He’s the one who lied, he’s the one who cheated, and he’s the one who dragged you into all this…the lies, the mess. Not you. So I’m not angry at you. I just don’t care anymore.”
“I…I understand,” Nora says, her voice light. “Thanks for hearing me out.”
She smiles and, without another word, turns away from Hailey and me. She doesn’t look back. She walks toward the main door to slip out of the manor as quietly as she came.
“Uh…” Hailey’s eyes go saucer-wide. “So, now you’re definitely my role model, because the way I would have thrown hands—”
“Hailey!” I laugh so hard, letting the moment of clarity and peace wash over me. It’s like I’m lighter, somehow. Unburdened, as I glance at my friend, this gorgeous bride-to-be.
Mrs. Winston peeks her head inside the terrace door and clears her throat as if she’s unsure what she just stumbled into. “Sorry to interrupt—just wanted to check in. Pastor needs to use the restroom and is wondering how much longer before the rehearsal starts.”
I toss Hailey alet’s do thislook. “What do you think? You ready to go get these practice ‘I dos’ underway?”
A few minutes later, we finally make it out to the terrace and into the courtyard, where rows of guest chairs line a long aisle leading to the wedding arch. Tomorrow, it’ll be draped in flowers, a stunning focal point for the ceremony.
It takes a few minutes to get the pastor and wedding party, including all my exes—ex-husband, unhinged ex-mother-in-law, ex-best friend—settled and in place. Once everything’s organized, though, I give a few last-minute instructions about guest seating arrangements and confirm Nelly and Hillary have the rings, and we’re off.
Hailey’s a mess of tears, staring at Donovan like it’s the real thing—which usually would make me say,Chill, save it for tomorrow.
Oddly, I love every minute of it.
We practice the processional a good handful of times, making sure the bridal party order and timing is on point. There’s a whole lot of “who stands where,” listening for the beat, and watching the couple approach the altar. Hailey and her stepdad are adorable, borderline skipping down the aisle.
Luckily, Donovan and his best man, Nelly, have had some practice before—thanks to my last wedding. They take their places, and boom, we’re ready for action.
My favorite part of the day? Listening to Hailey and Donovan saying their “improv vows.” Straight-faced, he promises not to steal the covers, not to get mad when she puts her cold feet on him, and to resist the urge to eat Doritos in quiet movie theaters. So cute. And accurate. He’ll be there to laugh first whenever she falls, though, before he’ll help her up. After my own heart, Hailey promises, with actual tears in her eyes, to use his razor on her legs, hijack his comfort sweatshirts, and scream in terror when encountering creepy crawlers.
And it might just be all this love and laughter in the air, but when my watch vibrates with a text notification, my heart flips as I see Linc’s name.
Lincoln
Hey, love, just wanted to check in and see what you’re craving for dinner tonight. Let me know and I’ll make it happen.
Love.
I’m breathless and missing him all over again, my mind stuck in that never-ending, swoopy B forBridges.
Ebony Grace Bridges.
The spell doesn’t break until the pastor declares, “You may kiss the bride.”
Time snaps back with a thunderous rush, the atmosphere charged like a lightning strike, jolting me out of my stupor in time to see Donovan getting really serious about the task at hand.
“I do,” he says on a low growl before he cradles Hailey’s face in his hands, kissing her with his entire body. And I mean all six-foot-infinity of him.
Lord, it’s a real, full-tongue, not-safe-for-wedding-guest-eyes, whimper-and-slow-whine fest, requiring me to intervene to get us to the recessional.
