He exhales sharply, eyes flickering with relief, disbelief, everything in between. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me into a hug. I press my face into his shoulder like I could stay here forever.
After a long silence, he says, “Well, at least we finally got the hard part out of the way.”
Chuckling, I lean back to look at him. And I stand there, heart still pounding, trying to remember how to breathe. I have no idea what just happened or what it all means, but I know one thing—nothing will ever be the same.
I will never not love Elijah Jonas.
three
Koren
A year later
Growing up helping my mom run her floral shop, I’ve been making wedding flowers for an awfully long time. I’m a bit of an expert at weddings. Over the years, I’ve learned there are exactly three statements guaranteed to make someone faint during a wedding-planning meeting: someone’s pregnant, the groom is kissing the bridesmaid, or someone saying,“Elijah Jonas is in my wedding.”
And by “someone,” I mean my very own sister—who apparently keeps life-threatening secrets from me.
I narrow my eyes at her and curl my lip. “What did you just say?”
“All right, you can be upset about it, but whatever you do, don’t act crazy. He’s Jackson’s best man. They’re on the same team. It means a lot to him.” Kaci speaks so quickly it’s hard to keep up. Which, now that I think about it, is probably her plan—rush thewords so I don’t actually hear them. “It’s just one day, and you won’t even have to talk to each other.”
“Don’t act crazy,” I echo. Somehow, that’s the one phrase that sticks in my head. “Is there a reason you waited to tell me this until two days before your wedding?” I pause again, narrowing my eyes. “Oh wait, you knew I’d go crazy!”
“I didn’t want you to get emotional about it. It really doesn’t affect you at all.”
“It doesn’t affect me?” My voice jumps an octave, and I fight the urge to stand on my toes. Why do I have this new desire to stand on my toes? I have no idea why—maybe it’s the tension swelling in my extremities.I’m about to . . . lose it!“I’m your maid of honor,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low because I’m in the middle of a workday at my floral shop, and people are here.
Paying people.
Paying people who don’t lie to me.
“Elijah is the best man. Now, I’m no Einstein, but I can do math. Wedding party people come in pairs. If you think I’m walking down the aisle with him, you’re insane!” I press my palm to my forehead as the tension swells. “How did I miss this? I’m extremely detail oriented. You must have hidden it from me.” I’m mostly talking to myself now, because none of this makes sense.
It's only my first day back in the shop, but I planned everything with Kaci over the phone. I race behind the counter, dig into my backpack, and yank out my sister’s wedding file. Everything is on the perfectly-coordinated-to match-her-wedding-colors clipboard—centerpieces, bouquets, and five boutonnieres—lilacs with Fire and Ice roses. Names: Jackson, Axl, Sam, Tyson, and EJ—EJ!
“EEEEEEJ!” I slam the clipboard onto the counter. “You lied to me?”
“It wasn’t ever alie,lie. You never figured it out.” She hunches her shoulders as if to make herself smaller. Little does she know, she can’t hide from my fury.
“What am I,Unsolved Mysteries?” I scream. “I trusted you, because well, that’s what sisters do. I didn’t know there was something to solve!”
“Really, Koren.” She waves a hand in my direction. “You knew he got signed to the Granite Ice team. You must have noticed the other guys in the wedding party are all on Jackson’s team—”
“I’m not a spy!” I snap. “I’m not used to you lying to me, so I didn’t overthink it!” I round the counter, starting to feel dizzy from all the screaming, and I make a conscious decision to lower my voice. “I figured since you said the name EJ, there was an EJ on the team. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t go to the games. I don’t listen to the news about the team. I don’t care about hockey, because …”
The words dry up in my throat. My lungs feel tight. Too much pressure building in my body.
Some of it’s anger.
Some of it’s shock.
Some of it’s hurt.
People aren’t meant to feel all these things at once—not about their sister, and certainly not about their ex-fiancé.
I haven’t thought about him since last fall.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
