one
Jenna
“Journee, you look absolutelygorgeous.” The smile I give my sister feels forced. It’s the same one I’ve worn since Journee agreed to marry the man our parents chose, a man she doesn’t love.
Ever since we were old enough to play dress-up, we dreamed of finding our soulmate to marry, even though we didn’t know what the term meant then. As we got older, we decided that just any guy wouldn’t do. We planned to save all of our firsts for the man we fell in love with.
Saying I was shocked when Journee agreed to marry the son of our dad’s business partner is an understatement. At twenty-three, Journee is hardly an old maid. If that were the case, I’d be on the shelf at twenty-four. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why Journee is throwing away her dream of finding love and happiness.
“Thanks, Jenna. You don’t look so bad yourself.” The half-hearted laugh that escapes her mouth is the opening I’ve been waiting for.
“You know, you don’t have to marry, Edward, if you don’t want to.” I grab her hands, and the coldness of her fingers makes me shiver at the touch. “I can pull my car around to the back door of the Church and smuggle you across the border.”
“As tempting as that sounds,” she pauses, squeezing my hands tightly. “I’m not sure I’m ready to become a Canadian citizen, even though hooking up with one of those Mounties does sound like fun.” A genuine smile crosses her face, giving me a glimpse of the sister who once believed in fairytales and love at first sight.
“You were the one who wanted to get married in Montana.” I tease. “I can’t help it that our escape route is limited.” Montana is definitely beautiful, if we were here visiting instead of attending Journee’s sham of a wedding.
“Maybe I was hoping one of those sexy mountain men, you're always reading about in those romance books you like so well, would crash the wedding and sweep me off my feet to his hidden cabin in the woods.” She drops my hands, her gaze drifting to the gorgeous view outside the window, making me wonder how much of it is true. Before I can question her further, she turns to face me, flashing a bright smile. “Could I have a few minutes alone before I become Mrs. Edward Peterson?” Her smile slips, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that when the minister asks if anyone has any objection to their union, I’ll be the one raising my hand.
With my mind made up, I give her a quick hug, careful not to wrinkle her satin wedding dress or smudge her makeup. “Okay, but if you change your mind, I’ll be Louise to your Thelma, and we can head to Arizona.”
“As long as you don’t drive us off the Grand Canyon,” Journee says, squeezing me tight, then letting go and stepping back. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too, sis.” I walk out into the hall, closing the door behind me to give my sister some privacy, when one of the bridesmaids grabs my arm and pulls me toward the back of the church to the courtyard entrance.
“Come on, Jenna. You’re missing the photoshoot with all the groomsmen and the groom. They’re in the courtyard with the photographer.”
“But the wedding is supposed to start in a few minutes.” I glance back at my sister’s bridal chamber door and notice it is slightly ajar, wondering how she could marry someone so selfish that he doesn’t even care whether his bride or the guests have to wait while he takes pictures with his friends.
“You know Edward—he operates on his own timeline, not anyone else's.” She shrugs, making me want to yank my arm out of her grasp and tell her that, in fact, I don’t know Edward at all, or even her, for that matter. The only people I know at this wedding are my sister and our parents. This wedding was thrown together so quickly that I’m not even sure Journee has seen Edward more than three times during the month it took to plan it. “Come on, Edward will make it up to Journee tonight on their honeymoon.”
A shiver of disgust runs through me at the thought of Journee giving herself to someone like Edward Peterson—she deserves so much better—she deserves love.
The bright sunlight hits me first as we make our way out of the church into the courtyard, where the groom and his groomsmen are toasting each other with shot after shot of alcohol while the photographer directs them for photos and the bridesmaids cheer them on—all but me.
I scan the large bushes in the courtyard, unable to see anything but the sky and their greenery, so dense I can’t see beyondthem. What was supposed to be only a few minutes of watching the guys get their picture taken now feels like hours. I can only imagine how my parents and Journee are feeling right now. I don’t have to wait long. My parents burst through the courtyard door, scowling at the scene before them.
“What in the hell is going on out here?” My father’s bellow cuts through the playful atmosphere, freezing everyone in their tracks.
Before anyone can answer, my phone vibrates in my purse, signaling an incoming message. Without hesitation, I pull it out and read the message with a sense of relief.
Journee:Jenna, tell Mom and Dad I’m sorry, but I can’t go through with the wedding. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I agreed to it. I need some time alone to let everything blow over and figure out what to do from here. I’ll reach out to you when I can, but for now, I’m leaving everything behind, even my phone. Do me a favor and stall the wedding for as long as you can so I can get a head start before they start looking for me.
Like any good sister would in this situation, I grab a half-empty bottle of tequila from a nearby picnic table, stroll over to where my parents are still standing, waiting for an answer, and hold up the bottle. “Would you like a shot? I think you’re going to need it.” And just like that, the courtyard comes alive again, this time in utter chaos, as Edward begins his flimsy excuse for being late to his own wedding, with his parents joining him at his side.
With a smile, I hold the bottle of top-shelf tequila toward the sky and raise it in a silent toast to my sister: “Make me proud, Thelma—go find your Brad Pitt,” I whisper into the fresh mountain air, so different from the city air I’m used to, and sit back and enjoy the show.
two
Jenna
It’s been ten dayssince my sister ran away from her arranged marriage. She hasn’t called or even sent me a text. I’m beginning to believe that her spur-of-the-moment decision to run away on her wedding day was planned.
Thinking back to that day, she arrived at the church in yoga pants, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes, with a backpack slung over her shoulder, while the rest of us were in dresses and high heels, as Edward’s mother had requested. I didn’t think anything of it until my parents, and I searched the church’s bridal chamber for her and found only her wedding dress, a pair of white satin high heels, and a one-word note scribbled on the back of an advertisement: “sorry,” in Journee’s elegant handwriting.
My father was so angry that he crumpled the note and threw it away. While he wasn’t looking, I dug it out of the trash and hid it in my purse as a souvenir of my sister’s path to self-discovery.
The arguing and finger-pointing in the church courtyard lasted forty-five minutes, and it took another fifteen minutes to search the church for the missing bride. By the time the police arrived two hours later, after my parents reported Journee missing, she had a three-hour head start. It helped that the groom and groomsmen were all too drunk to search for her, which led to another fight.
