“Amy.”
“No.” She cuts me off. “You love Frost, and he loves you. Everything else is just details, and I'm really good at details.”
Despite everything, I almost smile, because she is. Amy can organize, fix, and make anything happen. However, even she can't pull off miracles.
“I need you to stay here with your mom,” Amy says, already moving toward the door. “Try to calm down. Take a shower. I'm going to make some calls, figure out a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” Mom asks.
“I don't know yet,” Amy admits. “I’ll think of something. I always do.”
She looks back at me, and her expression softens. “You're getting married today, Hope. I promise you that. It might not look exactly like we planned, but you're marrying Frost today. Okay?”
I want to believe her. God, I want to believe her so badly. Looking at the pink dress, hearing the rain, thinking about the pastor's congested voice has me wanting to curl up into a ball and let the misery pull me under.
“I’ll try.”
Amy nods once, then she's gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
“We'll figure it out.” Mom squeezes my hand in solidarity. “We always do.”
CHAPTER 13
AMY
The second I'm out of Hope's room, I pull out my phone. Six hours… six fucking hours to pull off a miracle. My hands are steady as I scroll through my contacts. Years of handling Hope's crises have trained me for this, though I'll admit, this is a new level of disaster, even for us.
First up, Frost. I hold the phone up to my ear and wait.
He picks up on the second ring. “Amy? Everything okay?”
“No,” I say, not beating around the bush. “We've got problems. Big ones.”
“What kind of problems?”
I head down the stairs, keeping my voice low. “The bridal shop sent the wrong dress home with Hope. She's got some hideous pink bridesmaid nightmare instead of her wedding dress. The storm has destroyed the outdoor venue. The tent's got a massive hole, everything's soaked, and all the decorations are ruined. Also, the pastor called in sick with the flu.”
“Fuck.” The word comes out sharp, followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. “What are we going to do?”
“Leave it to me,” I say, pushing through the front door into the rain. It's lighter now, but still steady. “I need you to get over to Hope's parents' house right now.”
“Why? Wha?—”
“Your fiancée is losing her shit, Frost. She's upstairs crying, convinced the wedding is cursed, and she needs you. So, get your ass over here, and be there for her while I fix this mess.”
There's a pause. “I'm on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Good.” I unlock my car and slide into the driver's seat. “And Frost? Don't let her spiral. Keep her calm. I've got this.”
“You sure?”
“Have I ever let her down?”
“No,” he admits. “Never.”
“Then trust me.” I end the call before he can respond.
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel to think of another plan of action. Hope’ll be taken care of. Now I need a venue, dress, and an officiant. I scroll through the contacts on my phone.
