I attempt to extract myself slowly. Carefully. Trying not to wake him.
His arm tightens around me. His eyes open—those always-changing blue-gray eyes that make me forget how to form sentences.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Hey.” My face is approximately three inches from his. “I fell asleep—I mean, we fell asleep. I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s okay.” He’s not letting go. Not moving away. Just looking at me like he’s memorizing my face. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Really good, actually.” Better than I’ve slept in weeks, but I’m not admitting that. “You?”
“Best I’ve slept in a long time.” He smiles. It’s one of those lazy-day smiles, easy, rested, and it does things to my heart. How I love that smile.
Still, he doesn’t let go, just props his other arm behind his head, bringing him closer. Close enough that I can count the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. Close enough to that dangerous territory where one of us could lean forward just slightly and?—
I pull away. Sit up. Run a hand over my tangled hair. “I should—I need to go. Maya’s probably freaking out. Valentine’s Day”—I can’t help the little flutter in my stomach thinking about us, together, on Valentine’s Day—“and wedding day and all.”
“Right. Yeah.” He sits up too, the throw blanket pooling around his waist. His T-shirt is rumpled, his hair sticking up on one side.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, pulling on a cardigan over my pajamas. “Last night. Before everything.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “I’ll tell you after the ceremony. Is that okay?”
“After the ceremony?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, warm and sure. “It can wait a few hours. Let’s get through the wedding first.”
I’ll admit, I had a lot of time to think about it last night. Maybe too much time, because I’ve got it all planned out. The moment when I tell him the truth, that this isn’t fake anymore, that I’m totally, hopelessly in love with him, and that I want to try to make it work for real. I’m going to wait for dancing to start, for that first slow song to play—call it corny, but I used to think that kind of movie moment didn’t happen to girls like me, but I’m starting to believe, so you’ll excuse me if I get a little cliché—that’s when I’ll tell him. That’s when it’s supposed to happen. The perfect moment.
So, really, waiting to talk until after the ceremony works perfectly.
“Okay,” I say. “After the ceremony.”
“It’s a date.” He winks. Actually winks. Who winks? Main characters, that’s who. I told you! I’m starting to believe.
“A Valentine’s date.” I brush my hair back behind my ear, oddly nervous. Something’s different between us. Something is new. “I need to go help Maya.” I’m backing toward the door, grabbing my bag of toiletries and the dress I brought for getting ready. “I’ll see you at the ceremony?”
“I’ll be there.”
The cottage is already full steam ahead when I arrive, bridesmaids buzzing from room to room. The cottage looks like a 2011 JC Penney post Black Friday, clothes strewn haphazardly across furniture, dresses hanging in doorways, food left half eaten on the counters. Music drifts from every room—different music, I’d like to add—creating a cacophony of sounds.
“Is that Chloe?” I hear Maya’s voice from somewhere inside the mess. There’s a hint of nerves to it. She’s on edge, and the morning’s only just begun.
“Chloe! Thank goodness.” Lauren shuffles into the room carrying a large box, her hair twisted up in one of those no-heat curlers across the top of her head. “This just arrived at the hotel. The front desk had it delivered.” She drops the box on the counter, sliding it toward me. Inside, about ten billion crisp sheets of paper lined with names stare up at me. “They’re the escort cards.”
My stomach plummets. “What?—no. We ordered the escort cards from a specialized printer. They’re supposed to alphabetize and cut them.”
Lauren shushes me, glances toward the door to Maya’s room. “I wouldn’t bring that up with Maya. Apparently…your dad sawthe bill and about had a heart attack when he realized how much he was paying for the bells and whistles.”
“He did not.” But even as I’m saying it, that doesn’t surprise me. My dad has never been one to pay for a job he could do himself…or in this case, a job I’ll have to do. I slump down in the open seat at the counter and drape myself across the box.
It’s gonna be a long day.
But a day that ends with me telling Brody that I love him.
A day that maybe ends with the beginning of our own happily ever after.
“I’m gonna need scissors, zip lock bags, and a big cup of coffee. Stat.”
