Willow
Jim and Maria stood beneath the wedding arbor; hand carved by Joshua, intricate designs had been etched into the light oak—flowers and mandalas that ascended its thick base, reaching all the way to the top. Ivy had been wrapped loosely around the entire structure, hanging in delicate strands, the tips of which were brushing the heads of the couple beneath it. Jim held Maria’s hands in his, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. His suit was one of the ones from the drama club haul; Maria’s dress was the cream-colored wedding gown Britta had found.
Betsey stood before them, reading from a small book in her weathered hands. Despite her no-nonsense demeanor, Betsey smiled at the bride. “Maria, do you take James to be your wedded husband? James, do you take Maria to be your wedded wife?”
Keeping their eyes fixed on one another, each responded, “I do.”
“Do you promise to love and cherish each other, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for as long as you both shall live?”
“We do,” they replied in unison.
Five rows from the altar, I sat mid-bench between Britta and Jordy. On my left, in a rare show of emotion, Britta was wholly absorbed in the ceremony, sniffling softly. To my right, Jordy seemed to be inching closer until our legs were practically touching.
“You really look incredible,” Jordy whispered, nudging my arm.
“Thanks,” I whispered distractedly, unable to concentrate on anything other than the feel of Logan’s calloused hand still lingering on my cheek. And the absolutely piercing look in his eyes as his thumb slid slowly toward my mouth. Of its own accord, my hand touched my mouth, my fingertips feathering over the swell of my bottom lip, the feeling causing a spike of sensation straight through my core.
I dropped my hand as if it burned me, shooting up out of my seat. As I hurried toward the doors, a cheer rose up across the room while Jim dipped Maria backward and bent to kiss her. More cheers arose as I pushed through the doors, bursting onto the porch, sucking in lungful after lungful of hot, humid air that did nothing to ease the heat already building inside me.
“Willow?” Britta and Ella pushed through the doors, coming to stand on either side of me. “What happened, sugar? You alright?”
“I don’t know,” I said, breathless. “I really don’t know.”
“Ella, hand me that flask,” Britta demanded.
“No,” Ella snapped back. “I told you, it’s mine.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I glanced between my two friends. “I loved him,” I said, nodding vigorously even as my expression crumpled. “I did. I really, really did.”
Britta pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Sugar, what, or who, are we talkin’ about? You feelin’ okay?”
“Luke,” I whimpered. “I loved him.”
“Of course you did.” Britta’s brow furrowed. “What’s got into you?”
“I don’t know,” I cried softly. “Everything was fine—” I gestured frantically at the dining hall. “And then I…” I trailed off, shaking my head again. I couldn’t bear to speak what I felt out loud; to do so felt as if I were doubly betraying Lucas.
Logan’s face flashed in my thoughts—intrusive and unwelcome. His ocean-blue eyes burning into mine, looking at me in ways Lucas never had; like I was the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on, like he couldn’t take his eyes off me. Like looking at me would never be enough. Likehavingme would never be enough.
Flashes of images assaulted me.A fist through a wall. An anguished cry. Desperate mouths fused together while frantic hands fought for—
“Oh my god,” I exclaimed. “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
Britta shot Ella a pointed look. “Fine,” Ella muttered, reluctantly pulling the flask from her dress. Plucking the flask from Ella’s hand, Britta unscrewed the cap and took a swig. Stifling a cough, she pushed it into my hand. “Drink up,” she urged, “you’ll feel better.”
I took a tentative sip, grimacing. “Oh god, it’s gross,” I rasped.
“Yeah, but not nearly as gross as cryin’ at someone else’s weddin’.”
Ella choked on a laugh and I snorted despite myself. “Cheers to that, I guess,” I mumbled, lifting the flask to my lips, chugging what was left. My mouth aflame, I hacked through my next several breaths.
“There ya go,” Britta said,slapping me on the back. “Now it’s a party.”
“Tears and beers,” Ella agreed. Taking her flask, she tucked it back inside her dress. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.”
“Bring back the whole bottle this time, you greedy heifer!” Britta yelled after her. Turning back to me, she asked,“Now what’s all this about Lucas?”
Dragging my hands down the side of my face, I could only shake my head. “Oh god, I don’t even know, I just—”
