Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “It was a disaster. I should have known. She accused me of trying to sabotage her wedding. I guess things have been going wrong.”
Gina laughs. “Darla told me Alex and Tracy changed the bridesmaid dress color to puke green instead of merlot.”
“Yeah, and there was something about flowers and her centerpieces. I hear there are things they did that she doesn’t know about yet.”
“That’s good!”
“No, it’s not. They told me when I first came home that they wanted to do it, and I specifically told them not to. Some things were already
in motion, but they went ahead anyway. Kenzie admitted in front of everyone that we were never friends.”
Mom squeezes my hand. “What?”
“She tricked me into going tonight because she wanted to beat me. To prove I’m the terrible person she thinks I am, and she aimed to humiliate me. She thought I was the one sabotaging her wedding.”
“She’s a moron,” Gina says. “And her goal was to steal Asher? At least choose something worthwhile.”
I’m surprised when Mom shares a knowing look with Gina, agreeing with her.
“Everything with Kenzie has been a competition for her, and I’m struggling to process that my memories are all lies. But honestly, I don’t care what she does anymore.”
“You don’t?” Lance asks.
I shake my head. “I told her she wins. She wants Asher? She can have him. I don’t want him. If she wants to steal the wedding I dreamed of? She did. I don’t care anymore.”
“Then why do you look like you just witnessed a mass shooting?” Eric asks.
Pointing at the door, I tilt my head. “Ford confessed he’s been in love with me since high school.”
Everyone stares, their expressions revealing that they’re not surprised. It’s as if I’m the only one who didn’t see it coming.
“Am I the only one who didn’t know?” I ask.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric replies. “We tried to tell you, but you always brushed it off. I don’t know how you were that oblivious; you’re usually pretty smart.”
“Eric!” Mom scolds.
Gina giggles. “It’s not just me anymore now.”
“What? Is it the truth?”
Mom turns to me, forcing me to meet her gaze. “Ford isn’t Asher, honey.”
“He’s waited over a decade for you,” Gina adds. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah? I never thought Asher would, either.”
“Well, that’s because Asher was dropped on his head too many times as a child,” Dad interjects.
Mom scolds him, and laughter fills the room. Everyone except me. I’m still in shock.
“I just need to be alone and think,” I say.
No one stops me, and I feel suffocated. Overwhelmed and scared, I need to distract myself until I can gain some perspective. If I don’t, I worry I’ll slip into a semi-catatonic state.
On instinct, I open my laptop and upload the photos from Gina’s parties. The engagement party folder loads first. I click through shots of Ford entering the room—casual stance, easy smile, eyes scanning the crowd. Then frame twelve stops my breath. His pupils have dilated. The corners of his mouth have softened. His shoulders have dropped half an inch.
The bachelorette party photos come next. There’s Ford in the doorway, his beer paused halfway to his lips, condensationbeading on the glass. The exact moment he spotted me across the room, his Adam’s apple frozen mid-swallow.
