I stand and walk up the side aisle toward the entrance. The doors open onto a wide stone landing with steps leading down to the driveway. I slip through and let them close behind me.
I step to the side, out of the main traffic, and wait.
It’s maybe two minutes before the cars start pulling up.
First is a black car that idles at the bottom of the steps. When the door opens, Piper’s mother and sisters step out.
I wait.
The last car pulls up slowly.
The driver moves around to the passenger side. Piper’s father steps out first before he turns and offers his hand back into the car.
Then Piper steps out.
And the dress…
Jesus.I wasn’t prepared for the dress.
I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe something simple and quiet, but it wasn’t that. There’s a cloud of white against the dark exterior of the car, catching the California sun and holding it hostage. She’s got the veil pinned back from her face while they sort out the train.
I need to see her face.
That’s the real reason I’m out here. I want to know if the smile she’s wearing today is as assembled and hollow as the one she wore on the balcony last night. I’ve had sixteen hours to remind myself to stay out of it. To accept that she’s “alwaysfine” and that I’m no longer the self-appointed protector of Piper Callahan.
They start up the steps. Her father has her arm, and she’s slightly turned away from me, her head bowed as they navigate the stone. I take a half-step to the right, trying to catch her eyes.
Almost.
She starts to turn, but a sudden gust of wind sweeps off the coast, catching the silk of the veil. It lifts, a white wave sweeping forward across her face. I hear a small, surprised exhale as she reaches up to catch the fabric before it flies away.
Shit.
Her face is covered.
The oak doors swing open, swallowing them whole, and then it’s just me and the empty driveway.
I didn’t see her face.
She was right there, about a dozen feet away, and a literal act of God moved the fabric and blocked my view.
I exhale, the breath rattling in my chest.
Go back inside, Griffin.
I try to move my feet. They’re lead. My gut—the thing that’s never steered me wrong—is currently screaming at me to stay put. To wait.
For what? I don’t know.
But I’m not going back in there. Not yet.
Fuck.
Nine
Piper
The doors swing open, and three hundred people rise in one collective, terrifying motion.
