I’ll still have me.
The me who will survive this heartbreak and come out sharper. The me who is kind and good. The me who is afraid but does the damn thing anyway.
And damn it, that me is worth something.
I love Jaxon—even if the timing of that realization sucks. I want him to come back. I want us. But if he doesn’t, I refuse to let that mean I’m not enough. I am enough. I always was.
I wipe the last of the tears from my face, straighten my shoulders, and whisper into the empty room, “I’m pretty fucking awesome.”
Chapter forty-five
Izzy
You’redoingthisforBryn, I remind myself just as a woman pulls on my hair. I may have been forced to wake up at six in the morning to put on a dress that is too short and a smile that is slightly forced, but it is to celebrate my baby sister finding the love of her life. And this new version of Izzy, the one who knows she matters to her family—she’s here for that.
“How would you like your makeup to look?” the woman in front of me asks.
I stare blankly at her, uncomprehending.
“Are you thinking more natural-looking or something bolder?”
“Natural,” I reply, knowing it doesn’t matter what she does—I will be the plainest woman in the wedding party, but honestly, I couldn’t care less. Today is about Bryn and Jameson, not me.
My mind drifts back to Jaxon as the makeup artist starts spraying something on my face. Our conversations have been brief since he left. Him apologizing. Me telling him I understand.A quick phone call Thursday night that was quickly interrupted by Andre needing him to record something.
Despite my realization the other day, I’m still a bit awkward and unsure how to talk to him—something we’ve never had a problem with before.
Luckily, the day goes by in a blur of hairspray and camera flashes, and I have almost no time to think about the fact that Jaxon can’t be there with me tonight.
“Izzy, can you stand on the other side of Kelsey?” the photographer asks as the wedding party stands out on the eighteenth green of the golf course, taking pictures before the ceremony starts at sunset.
Kelsey studies me closely as I slide to stand between her and Lila but doesn’t say anything. I flash her a smile and then cross my eyes and stick out my tongue at the same time, hoping to convince her I’m fine. Because I am. I may be uncertain about what will happen with Jaxon and me, but if he chooses not to come back, I can deal with that future.
The photographer takes a few more pictures before studying the images on her camera and wrinkling her nose. “Maybe move to the very end, Izzy. The height difference is making a weird shadow fall across Lila.”
I move to the end, surprised to realize I’m not embarrassed by the fact that I’m the problem in these photos. I’m tall. It’s who I am.
Finally, the group splits up, and the women get in line to enter the ceremony that’s on the lawn outside of the restaurant at Wild Bluffs Country Club—the same patch of grass Bryn and Jameson walked across hundreds of times when they were first dating and Jameo was living in the house on the first hole’s fairway.
The wedding is about to start, but a few last-minute guests are still trickling in.
While Kelsey and I are both maids of honor, she’s the oldest, and technically a matron of honor, so she’s first in line. Which is for the best. She has actual jobs, like holding Bryn’s flowers during the ceremony and fixing her dress, and I’m just in charge of not crying so hard that my mascara makes me look like a raccoon.
“Are you okay?” Kelsey asks me from her spot in front of me as I tug on the hem of my dress for what has to be the millionth time. I’ll admit I look better than anticipated, but I’m still not comfortable with the length. Someone is getting a view of my shapewear today for sure.
Lucky them, I guess.
“Totally. Just can’t believe Bryn is getting married.”
When I’d told my family about Jaxon having to bail on the wedding last minute, they’d been understanding. And while I didn’t tell them that my heart is in limbo, unable to move forward until I see him back with my own two eyes, they know enough about our past to guess this is hard for me.
But today is not about me.
Kelsey likely knows I’m deflecting, but rather than calling me out on it, she, too, comments on Bryn getting married. “I know. I thought Bryn would swear off men forever after everything with Peter.”
Peter. What a twat waffle. And his mom, one of the few people I know who meet both the millennial and Gen Z definition of a cunt.
“Thank goodness Jameson came along and fell like a ton of bricks,” I joke, and Lila snorts a laugh from her spot behind me.
