After she disappears behind a closed door, I glance at the elf again.
It’s smiling. And I can’t tell, but I swear it looks bigger than before.
I don’t like that.
But I don’t move it.
twenty-three
CHOE
Morning light spillsthrough the giant windows in Aiden’s room, pooling on the floor. I know it’s technically mine, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking of it as his.
Technically, after today, we could share it and make itours.
But considering we haven’t even kissed in a decade, it might be weird to share a bed and a room. We’re about to share our lives and our home, so what’s the difference, really?
In the scheme of things, a year isn’t that long.
When you’re sharing everyday intimacies? It feels pretty long.
Maybe it’s because I’m nervous.
Nine years ago, I married someone I thought would be forever. I did everything the bridal magazines said you’re supposed to do, and I had a beautiful wedding. Most of it was tailored to his taste, but it was lovely, nonetheless.
I catered to what he wanted, and he still left.
Today, I’m marrying the first person who ever had my heart, and I haven’t putanythought into it. Much to Abby’s chagrin.
Maybe that means the ending will be different.
Silly, I know. There’s no superstition for ensuring a marriage will last. It’s not like a run of wins in the playoffs. I’m not sure why I’m even hung up on it, except that there’s a sliver of my heart that wants it to stick.
And because of that, there’s a tiny part of me that’s disappointed that it doesn’t feel like the morning of my wedding. There aren’t any frills or details to capture.
I wring my hands as I take in my reflection. I look nice, but that’s not the sentiment you want on a day like today. Jeans and a sweater don’t exactlyscreambridal. It’s very sensible, which fits what we’re doing. We’re solving a herd of problems with a legal relationship, on paper.
It’s not real.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Chloe,” Abby calls. “If you don’t answer, I’m assuming you’ve fled the state.”
I don’t know how she knows when I need her levity, but it’s uncanny. With one last glance in the mirror, I cross the room and open the door.
She barrels in with a garment bag in one hand and a massive tote bag slung over her shoulder like she’s been training for this moment her whole life. Phoebe is on her heels.
“Oh, good,” she says. “You’re already upright. That’s a win.”
Behind her, Harper slips in more quietly, arms full of greenery, soft white blooms, and pops of red berries.
She smiles like she already knows how close I am to unraveling.
“Y’all didn’t have to come,” I say, but my voice wobbles anyway.
Abby snorts. “Please. You don’t get legally entangled without witnesses.”
She eyes the smart speaker, then barks out a command that has music floating in the air. With a flourish, she hangs the dress from the horizontal pole between the posters of the bed and sets a massive tote bag on the bench at the foot of it.
