Maybe that’s part of what makes this so scary.
There are moments in between that feel threaded with honesty, like he means every word he’s saying, and he wants this to be more, too.
“I can’t afford to fall apart again,” I whisper. “Not with Phoebe.”
Harper’s gaze softens. “I don’t think you will. This is different, Chloe. Maybe it’s easier because I’m outside of it, but this is special. I want you to believe that, okay?”
That hits harder than anything else I’m feeling.
Abby might devour romantic fluff like it’s oxygen, but she doesn’t deliver it.
She claps her hands once. “Okay. Decision time. This magnificent masterpiece, or yoga pants.”
I sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Correct. But you’re the one arguing with me about this beauty.” She gives a sweeping gesture toward the bed, and I sigh.
I wish she were wrong.
While she quietly celebrates me caving, I grab my camera from my bag on the floor. I capture her popping the champagne cork, laughing with Harper as the stream shoots out and bubbles onto the floor.
I capture her pouring into glasses that mysteriously bear our names.
And then I capture the dress from all angles: the dress itself, the details, and a few full-frame photos of the whole scene. These people are celebrating today like it’s somehow real, even though it’s not.
I’m distracted enough that I don’t hear the door until it closes. Evelyn enters my side-view and pauses, then bends to whisper something in Phoebe’s ear. A tinkling of laughter follows.
“What’s going on?” I ask, aiming for light, and landing more toward hesitant.
Evelyn smiles, heaviness in her eyes. “That’s a secret between a girl and her aunt,” she says.
“That’s pretty special,” I say, my eyes following Phoebe as she scurries out of the room.
From my brief interactions with Evelyn a decade ago, and the ones we’ve had since I moved in, I know she’s not the type to consider her words before she says what she’s thinking. So it makes me a little nervous to see her hesitate now.
When she pulls a blue handkerchief out of her pocket, I understand why.
“I wanted to bring you this. It’s Mom’s, and I know this all came together fast, but I thought you might want it for your something blue.” Her eyes land on mine.
Abby quietly comes and takes my camera, but I barely notice. I know this moment is important, and I don’t want to split my attention.
“I hadn’t really given it a lot of thought,” I say, swallowing because I’m about to choke on the emotions rising quickly from my chest to my throat. “This is incredible, Evelyn, thank you.”
She steps forward, pressing it into my hand. “You can call me Evie on one condition.”
Abby and Harper both busy themselves, pretending like they’re not listening to every word. That’s fine, less to recount later.
“What’s that?” I ask, nervously fingering the cloth.
“Don’t hurt him.” The request is quiet, but she’s not pulling any punches.
And it lands exactly where it should—right in the center of my chest.
“That’s the last thing I want to do.”
It’s the most honest I’ve been all day, and I mean every word. I worry about Phoebe the most of all of us, but she’s convinced we’re living out a real-life fairytale.
I’m so desperate for happiness, I’m fully on board with her theory.
