Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Let me help—” I say when lace flies past my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the fabric skitter across the sidewalk, then divebomb over a railing and tumble into a stream below. I grip the wheel harder.
“My veil!”
The urgent cry is the first sign of devastation from the jilted bride today. Also, it’s one-hundred percent real. Nothing fake in her reaction and no crocodile tears there.
I do what any problem solver would do—yank the car into the parking lot of a nearby 7-Eleven.
Barely pausing to turn off the motor, I fling open the door and tear down the hill.
4
DO THEY HAVE FLIP-FLOPS AT 7-ELEVEN?
Aubrey
Don’t cry over a veil. Don’t cry over a veil. Don’t cry over a veil.
I gather up the fabric of the skirt of my dress, repeating the words as I rush down the hill. But it’s no use—the tears are freaking waterfalls down my cheeks, and I can’t stop chanting my veil, my veil, my veil.
I have to get it. I can’t let it drift away downstream. It was my grandma’s, and it was my mom’s, and it was my sister Claire’s, and Claire gave it to me a month ago, all reverent and serious as she said, “Dad asked me to set this aside for you a while ago. He knew it’d make Mom happy to see you in it.”
I took it then, even as the knot twisted in my throat, even when I had to look away from her earnest eyes.
I can’t lose the family veil. My heart slams against my rib cage as I grip the tulle in the skirt, tug it higher, then take a few more steps down the hill. Ledger’s hell-bent on saving the veil too. He’s a tall blur of black suit and determination as he races down the grassy hill, dodging small shrubs with pink and white flowers on his path to the water.
Through my annoying torrent of tears, I can just make out a flash of white lace slipping amongst the wet stones in the stream, bobbing on the surface, about to be sucked under.
“Oh god,” I moan, and it sounds like a cry ripping from my soul.
I have to get it. I swallow my stupid sobs, buckling down as I reach for my even stupider satin pumps and sling them off, tossing them I don’t even know where. I pop back up, ready to fly down the grass the rest of the way, when I spot the tall, strapping man wading into the water.
Holy shit.
Ledger’s taking big, hearty steps in the stream, pushing against the current, hunting that motherfucking veil like it’s a puck he intends to own. In three seconds, he reaches it, bends, and plucks it from the watery depths.
Behind me, Dev applauds. “Dude! If you were that fast in the morning, I’d never pass you when we go out for a run.”
He jogs down the hill, stopping next to me, while in the middle of the creek, Ledger flashes Dev a fuck-off grin and flips him the bird with his free hand. “I let you pass me so I can run alone.”
“Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night. Also, fuck yes. Well done,” Dev says, his jeers turning fully to cheers.
I should cheer too.
But I can’t stop crying. I’m a hot, sobbing, frustrating stew of ridiculous emotions as I sink down onto the grass right in front of one of those pretty shrubs. Ledger strides out of the water in his black suit, looking a little Colin Firth-y in Pride & Prejudice.
Too bad Ledger’s white shirt isn’t sticking to his chest.
Wait.
Why the hell am I thinking about Ledger’s chest while I’m trying to dry up my tears? I’m supposed to be sad.
I am sad, dammit.
When Ledger flops down beside me, handing me the waterlogged veil, it’s not sadness I feel. It’s relief I didn’t lose something important. I clutch the wet veil to my chest, not caring that my dress is a mess. My shoulders are heaving with the remnants of my Tear Extravaganza Brought To You By A Totally Fucked Up Wedding Day. Dev sits on my other side, offering me a tissue.
Does he carry tissues all the time? Or did he pack it especially given the circumstances?
“Thanks.” I take it gratefully and wipe my eyes under the shades, then my cheeks. After a few deep breaths, I mutter, “I’m sorry, guys. Sorry for crying like this. Normally, I’m more fun. I swear.”
Ledger shoots me a look like I’m nuts. “You’re allowed to be sad today,” he says gruffly.
“Yeah. You’re allowed to feel anything. Say anything,” Dev seconds with genuine sympathy.
Right.
Of course.
They think I’m sad my ex ditched me minutes before I promised to love him forever. They don’t know I’m mostly secretly glad Aiden walked out. They have no clue about the playdough mix of emotions inside me. They don’t know I’m dancing a jig while also feeling ridiculously stupid, while battling all this guilt, while wanting to kick Aiden in the balls for being a total fuckcake and booking a flight hours before he ditched me.