Page 97 of Broken Vows

Come on, come on. Just move your feet. The wedding doesn’t start until five—eight hours away. Pictures start at noon. Guests arrive at three.

It’s showtime.

As of right now, my only two jobs are coordinating the shit out of this day and avoiding Theo—unless I decide to speak to him.

And… back to the swirling.

The next two hours fly by quicker than expected. After Sydney informs security, again, that Theo’s parents are not allowed on the premises, she stands in the circular drive playing the role of an air traffic controller with the catering, florists, photographer, and videographer teams, while Justin and I manage the courtyard activities. Yesterday, the decorators did a phenomenal job. Six hundred crisp white chairs, perfectly aligned on the sides of an ivory runner, lead to a sheer fabric and white-light draped, Greek-inspired archway. The venue hums urgency—caterers assembling standing bars and food stations, crews loading tables and chairs, florists weaving beautiful sage and cream bouquets along the aisle-facing chairs with seamless precision. Justin and I move in sync, checking the officiant’s acoustics, verifying table settings, and directing crew members as needed.

I step underneath one of the huge maple trees to take a breath and watch as the courtyard comes alive in a wedding-day wonderland.

Six hours to go.

Six hours to determine the fate of the rest of my life.

Justin finds me beneath the shade of the trees and hands me a bottle of water. “God, this is giving me some serious flashbacks to when Dylan and I got married,” he says, twisting the cap off his own. “I mean, minus the harpist flown in from the UK, the Michelin-level menu, the actual champagne from France… other than that, it’s basically the same.”

I chuckle and gulp back the water. “Practically a mirror-image.”

Our attention snags on one of the bartenders polishing glasses. When one slips and shatters, we both politely look away, pretending nothing happened.

“My wedding day was the happiest day of my life,” Justin says. “And it wasn’t just the day itself. Not Dylan in his tux, nor being surrounded by our friends and family.” He pauses. “It was knowing that from that day forward, I was going to spend the rest of my life with my person.”

He nudges my arm and points to a bench a few feet away. We crunch through the perfectly trimmed grass to make our way to the resting spot. Oof, it feels good to sit down. On wedding days, I’m normally running around like a madwoman. And today is no different. I’ve literally not stopped for a second. If I stop, I think. And I’m not sure I can survive my thoughts right now.

“I was so terrified to ask Dylan out. The man was larger than life. Still is,” he says. “I’m so glad I did. I thank God every night that I took a chance, even though I was scared.”

I slide my sandals off and dig my toes into the lush grass. I know what Justin’s doing. And I love him for it. But… was he this scared? Asking someone out and begging someone on their wedding day to not go through with it are two totally different things.

I don’t even know what I want.

“What should I do?” I ask, quietly.

“I don’t know,” he says, softly. “I love you, Lex. You deserve happiness, whatever that looks like. But what I do know is that you don’t want to live with regrets. If there’s something that needs to be said, now’s the time to say it. And then, you’ll know. Knowing and having it not be what you want to hear is better than not knowing at all.”

The words settle heavily.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about your situation,” he says, sliding closer. “And who knows what the future looks like? It’s terrifying—I get that. But all I know is that, all those years ago, I’m incredibly grateful I took a chance on something. And… I think you deserve to take a chance on yourself.”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “I love you,” I whisper. “Thank you for being the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I love you, too.” A long moment passes as I take in his words. He gives my knee a pat and lifts himself from the bench. “Now… I better go find Sydney before she starts terrorizing the wait staff. Take some time if you need. We got this. You take care of you.”

As he walks away, I stare at my trembling hands and slowly stand. I really should check on the bride. I told her assistant I was here if she needed anything but otherwise would stay away. I said I was doing this for Annabelle. But really, it’s for me. I don’t know if I can look her in the eye. I’m jealous and hurt. Broken. I think she’ll take one look at me and see everything, and I have no right to make this day any worse for her.

However, duty calls. The photography team is scheduled to start shooting within the next two hours, and I need to confirm hair and make-up is on track.

I drag myself through the kitchen and make my way into a guest bedroom doubled as bride’s prep room.

One of the assistants opens the door with a frantic look, with no sign of the bride in the chair.

“Where is she?” I ask.

The frazzled assistant shrugs. “Annabelle said she needed air about an hour ago; she’s not been seen since.”

Panic starts to set in. “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“Yes,” she says with a heavy sigh. “The bride is gone.”