“An heirloom,” The Beave says right before she collapses into a pew.
“Roll, for fuck’s sake!”
I drop to the ground and roll, tucking my knees in so I’m not caught up in the pews. “Is it out?” I yell. “Am I still burning?” I glance over my shoulder and see the flames chasing after me. “Ahhhhh! Breaker, it’s coming to get me. Save my soul . . . save it!” I continue to roll as I see smoke lift into the air. “What’s that smell? Is that my hair? Breaker, help—”
Splash.
Water douses me, soaking me to my bone while putting the fire out at the same time.
I glance up to see Breaker holding a very large metal bowl, his chest heaving, horror in his eyes.
“Is it . . . is it out?”
He swallows hard and nods. “Yeah, it’s out.”
I lay flat on the ground, wet and horrified, as I let out a deep breath. “Where did you get the water?”
He glances down at the empty bowl and winces. “Uh . . . I believe I just blessed you hard with holy water.”
I shake my head. “Baptism by fire just took on a whole new meaning,” I say as I hear The Beave mumbling some sort of prayer in the background. I swallow hard. “Consider me converted.”
* * *
“She hates me,”I say as Breaker opens the door to the stationery store.
After I gently gave The Beave back her ruined heirloom veil, I told her I was going to change clothes before our next meeting to pick invitations. Breaker whisked me away, and instead of discussing what just happened, we sat in silence as we drove along the palm tree-lined streets of Los Angeles.
Breaker scratches his cheek as he says, “I think hate is a strong word.”
“Breaker, I set her precious heirloom veil on fire.”
“Not on purpose. I think that’s something we need to stress. You did not set the veil on fire on purpose.”
“I’m sure she sees it that way.” I glance toward the back of the shop, where I see The Beave with her assistant at a table, looking over what seems to be different textures of paper. “How do I even approach her? Do I apologize again? Do I just leave the decisions up to her?”
Breaker pulls me to the side and whispers, “It was an accident. Was it embarrassing? Yes, but it was an accident. She will respect you more if you head to this next meeting with your head held high and not constantly apologizing. You said what you needed to say, so move on. Okay?”
I nod. “You’re right. Just . . . move on.”
“That’s the spirit.” He straightens and puts his hand on my back, guiding me to the table where The Beave is sitting.
As we approach, she glances up and says, “Ophelia, I wasn’t sure you would show up, given your appearance when we left the church, but it seems like you can clean up appropriately.”
I tack on a smile as I say, “Wasn’t too difficult.” I can sense she’s looking for me to crumple, and I want to. I desperately want to fall to her feet and apologize over and over again, but Breaker is right. She will respect me if I don’t. “So what are we looking at?”
“Paper density and weight,” The Beave says. “Really, it’s not necessary that you’re here.”
“It is,” I say as I take a seat next to her, and Breaker takes a seat next to me. “These are my wedding invites, after all. Plus, paper is fun.” I pick up a stack and flip my finger through the thick pieces of paper. “Do you know what I love about paper?”
“I’m sure you have some well-thought-out opinion that I can’twaitto hear,” The Beave says with a heavy dose of condemnation.
I can see we’re still angry about the veil, and I’m sure she’s looking to cut me down, but like Breaker said, don’t buckle. Hold strong.
“I do, actually,” I say. “Paper is a journey—”
“Uh, Lia, I need to speak to you for a second,” Breaker says, standing abruptly.
I glance up at him, confused. “What?”
