If January implodes right now, will I still be able to pull off a career in Huckleberry Springs? I’d still have three events to show off at. More chances to build my reputation.
And there’s my love life. When I moved home, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I hold a job? Why couldn’t I keep an underwhelming guy like Stanford happy? Why did I need my family’s name to get ahead?
Thanks to Durban, I know the answers to all those questions now. And I know what I’ll never settle for again.
My heart’s just a little lighter as I head toward the pavilion to take my post in the back.
When I reach the venue, Mom crosses to me, the skirt of her pale blue dress swirling around her legs, and gives me a quick hug. Avery and Thea are on her heels. Avery’s a bolt of sunshine in her yellow dress, while Thea’s wearing a light gray pantsuit with a deepVdown the front.
“Jamison said she was over to the house,” Mom says quietly.
I nod as my throat thickens again. “Nerves, I guess.”
She rubs my back, gives me the look that says she knows I’m not telling her the whole story, but she doesn’t press.
Avery speaks out of the side of her mouth. “Get a load of that lady in white. Jan’s going to lose her shit.”
At the end of one of the aisles of chairs is January’s aunt Margaret. Sydney’s talking to her and holding up the cardigan. The aunt’s gesturing with her hands, and Sydney’s shrugging.
“She already has,” I say, scanning the guests. It’s a small, intimate wedding, more out of necessity than choice. It was like January could never create her own network. She had to siphon from mine. Mine would’ve been bigger. “Daddy at the barn?”
Mom nods. “Ready to bring the horses up right before the vows are said.”
“That’s going to be the highlight,” Avery says, pushing a strand of dirty-blond hair off her face. “Hailstorm looks so purdy with white bows in his mane.”
“I think Clyde likes his bling too,” Thea says.
I laugh, wishing it wouldn’t be so bittersweet to see the horses ride up. Wishing I wouldn’t get so wistful. “They’re the chillest creatures around today.”
“Want me to stand back here with you?” Thea asks. “It’ll look more Team Campbell versus Team January.”
I shake my head. “Have a seat and enjoy the uncomfortable show. I might have to rush off any second.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Stanford escorting his parents over the lily-lined trail to the pavilion. He’s in a tux, looking like the businessman he is. After he leads them to his seat, he wanders back down the aisle, nodding at all his friends and relatives.
Shit, he’s heading in my direction. I clutch my clipboard and look as impassive as possible.
“Is January ready?” He adjusts his bowtie. It’s crooked, but I keep that information to myself.
“She’ll be ready.” My emotions are raw, and I’ve had a rough morning. I’m also sick of men at the moment. I run my finger around my necklace to make sure it’s showing. “I’m good at what I do.” Before he can open his mouth, I make a point of looking at the time on my phone. “Take your place and wait for your lovely bride before you put me behind schedule.”
Annoyance crosses his face, along with something that resembles regret, but the countdown is on for when Stanford is not my problem. He spins sharply on a heel and stomps to the front.
I lean against the corner beam of the structure. It’s begun.
My melancholy returns, but there’s a relief chaser right behind it. This day is almost done. I can cry into my pillow tonight, and tomorrow will be Baldwin-free.
Stanford takes his place under the flower arch and glares at me. I hold his gaze, my unimpressed expression unwavering. He’s the first to blink, sliding his attention away to the flurry of activity at the end of the path where the attendants are gathering and crowding around January for the big reveal—right on time. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he lifts his chin.
What’s the matter, Stanford? Second-guessing today?
I turn my attention to where he’s looking. Sydney took charge for me, and she’s ordering everyone to line up. Stanford’s douchey best friend is first to walk with her, then two of January’s cousins with Stanford’scousins, and finally the coworker and an old frat buddy of my ex’s that I never liked.
One of Daddy’s staff kicks offPachelbel’s Canon in D. A lovely version with piano and violin drifts through the air. My favorite. But instead of being nauseous like I thought I’d be, I’m bored.
This isn’t the wedding of my dreams.
This? It lacks heart. There’s no vision, just echoes of mine. It’s a forgery when the real thing still exists in my head.
