His hands slip into his pockets. Jacket open. Hair just rumpled enough to look deliberate. His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
This is it. The moment.
I finally exhale.
He takes a step closer.
“Hayley, I…”
“Fuck! Is that the time?” Lily’s voice detonates from the hallway, making me jump. “HAYLEY!”
She bursts back in, breathless and single-minded. “You’re with me, now! Dress. Grab the dress! Tyler, she’ll see you at the altar!” she fires, seizing my wrist with terrifying strength.
I glance back over my shoulder. Tyler’s still watching me. Eyes steady. Smile sure.
“See you at the altar, my lord.”
And this time, my smile isn’t forced.
It’s real.
Chapter 22
From Batty to Bridal
Hayley
The courtyard behind the rose garden is absolute chaos.
Tulle. Lip gloss. Panic.
A forgotten bouquet wilting in the corner. A bridesmaid pinning her fringe back with afork.
Somewhere, a string quartet is warming up, completely unaware that the bridal party currently has no idea who’s supposed to walk down the aisle first.
“Do we go in order of height? Age? Does the maid of honour go first or last?”
“Maybe we follow the alphabetical chart thing?”
“What chart thing?!”
I blink at the group of mildly feral women in pale sage satin, all staring at each other like they’ve just realised there’s no adult in the room.
“Wait,” someone says, panicked. “Who evenisthe maid of honour?”
“Hayley, of course!” another pipes up, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I freeze.
Right. That’s me.
Apparently,Iam the adult in the room.
And the maid of honour.
Perfect.
I glance at Lily, radiant but visibly vibrating with nerves, whispering something to the celebrant and mouthing “breathe” to herself like she’s in active labour.
