The Accidental Honeymoon (Wildflower Lane #1)

Chapter 37

thirty-seven

CALLA

Half a dozen A-line skirts lie in a colorful heap on my bed. They battle for supremacy with an army of Converse sneakers and a mountain of sleek tops. I’m in full triage mode, trying to salvage my wardrobe from the carnage of my last-minute packing. A half-eaten Danish teeters on the edge of my dresser. I shove it in my mouth, crumbs exploding like confetti, and chew furiously.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I mutter and fling a hairbrush into my suitcase. "Why did I ever think this was a good idea?"

The hairbrush bounces back out of the suitcase and lands on the floor, defeated. I know exactly why I thought it was a good idea. Jay’s proposal had seemed so reasonable. So logical. A temporary arrangement with no emotions involved. Just a way to keep his brand intact.

If only I had managed to keep my heart intact.

The door to my apartment bursts open, and Cora sweeps in like a human hurricane, while somehow looking as neat as a pin. Her long brown hair is in its ever-present bun at the back of her head.

And people say I’m a control freak.

"Calla, you are not going to believe what—" She stops short, taking in the disaster zone that is my bedroom. "Jesus. Are you moving to New Orleans or fleeing the country?"

I collapse onto the bed, narrowly avoiding impalement by a stiletto heel. "I don't even know anymore."

Cora crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. One foot taps out an impatient rhythm. "So? You’ve decided, then?"

I take a deep breath. "It's just… Jay and I are so different. He’s Mr. Sparkling Water with a Twist of Organic Lime. I’m tap water with a slice of day-old pizza. How could I ever think that this would work? I mean, he likes pineapple on his pizza. Pineapple."

"Dear god, the horror." Cora’s amusement plays at the corners of her mouth. "Next you'll tell me he prefers the Star Wars prequels."

I glare at her. "This is serious. We have zero compatibility. It's like trying to mix oil and vinegar and expecting mayonnaise."

Cora pushes off the doorframe. She walks over to me with her stride full of purpose. "You and Jay both have the emotional intelligence of a dense fruitcake. You know that, right?"

“We do not!”

“Okay.” Cora puts her I’m-Serious-Calla face on. “Look. I am going to give you some advice that isn’t law-based. You know you can get an annulment and make everything go back to the way it used to be. But… it kind of sounds like you don’t want things to return to normal. Am I right? ”

My hands slow. “No. I mean… I don’t know.”

“You know I’m the first one to yell ‘divorce his ass, sister!’. But in this case, it seems like this is about you being scared of taking a risk.”

I blow a raspberry. “Who says I’m scared?”

“Calla… Come on. It’s me .” Cora tilts her head. “You know, sometimes it’s okay to take a risk. You and Jay are already married. The worst thing that happens is that you two talk it out and find out that you really aren’t compatible.”

I sniffle. “We did talk. It was horrible.”

“Does Jay know that it was the last talk before you left for New Orleans? Because if not, you should give it another chance.” She plucks the sock from my hand and tosses it into my suitcase. "You always find some ridiculous reason to sabotage things before they even start. This is a new one, I’ll grant you. But it’s the same thing."

I sit up straighter. "Maybe I do overthink things."

"The point," Cora sits on the bed next to me, "is that compatibility isn’t as black-and-white as you make it out to be."

“I just… I want to end up as happy as Mom and Dad. And they got together when they were practically babies. How am I supposed to live up to that example? Should I go troll Facebook, searching for people that went to my kindergarten?”

By the last word, I have tears in my eyes. Cora puts her arm around me, rocking me. “Sis. Don’t cry. You’re breaking my fucking heart, hon.”

For a moment, I think she’s going to ruffle my hair like she did when we were kids. Instead, she purses her lips. "Calla, do you know how Mom and Dad got together? "

I frown. "They were childhood sweethearts. What does this have to do with?—"

"Uh, okay. No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “They made it all up."

“They did not! ” I protest, flabbergasted. This is like telling me that Santa Claus has a sweatshop. I start ticking off the things I remember my dad telling me. “They met in kindergarten. He was the new kid in school. She asked him to share a desk. They kissed under the swing set. It’s literally the picture-perfect romance.”

“Nope!” She shakes her head. “They met in college. Mom was dating some other guy. Dad was her lab partner. It was a whirlwind thing. I found out a few years ago, but Mom leaned on me to stay quiet. I did because I figured that there’s no harm done. But now that one of my sisters is going to make major life decisions based on her whopper? I can’t just stay quiet. I’m not here to keep her secrets.”

“What? I don’t understand!” I pull my hand away, not sure I want to believe her. "Why would they lie about that?"

"Because it makes a cute story." Cora shrugs. "The truth is messier. They weren't instantly compatible. They had to work at it. It was all adorably 90s."

I sit there, stunned. My parents' neat little love story was the template I’d built my whole idea of romance on. If that was a fabrication, what else have I been wrong about?

"So you're saying I should just… what? Work at it with Jay? Make up a cute story and hope it turns real?"

Cora stands. "I'm saying that compatibility is a lot more flexible than you think. Sometimes the messier truth is better than a tidy lie. Maybe if you talk to him, you guys will break up. But maybe?" Her eyes soften. "Maybe you’ll stay together. I can’t predict the future or I would be in a very different job.”

I sit quietly for the better part of a minute. Does this change anything? Does it give me enough courage to stay an extra day?

Cora reaches out. “You don't have to go, Calla. We can figure something out."

“You gave me a lot to think about.” I bite my lip. The taste of pastry is long gone. Soon, I will be, too. "I think I need some alone time to figure things out. At the moment, my plan still involves leaving for New Orleans."

Cora lingers for a moment. She nods and leaves me to my chaos. I pick up the hairbrush from the floor, and stare at it, willing it to give me some kind of epiphany. Nothing.

I’m about to toss it back into the suitcase when Cora pokes her head around the corner. "I love you. Whatever you decide, just make sure it’s actually a decision. Not an excuse."

“Love you too.” I give her a crestfallen smile.

With that, she’s gone. I’m left with the silence of my own thoughts. I brush my hair, slow and methodical. I imagine what it will be like in New Orleans.

The humidity frizzing my hair. The beignets expanding my waistline. The sound of jazz seeping through the walls of my tiny, temporary apartment.

I picture Jay. His easy smile and ridiculous dimples. The way he’d looked so earnest when he proposed our fake marriage. Could it ever be more than an arrangement? Could it be the romantic marriage that I’d always dreamed of?

I don’t have the answers. I know I can’t stay here, paralyzed by indecision. I stand. I zip up my suitcase. I wipe the streaked mascara from my cheeks.

I’m only planning to leave for a month. All this emotional baggage will still be here when I get back. I haul my suitcase to the door. I take one last look at my room, now stripped of its former chaos. Everything is in its place. Except for me.

With a deep breath, I step into the hallway and close the door behind me.