Chapter 22 #2
“Everything okay?” she asks when she pulls back.
“Perfect.” Jake’s looking at her like she hung the moon. “You look incredible.”
“You haven’t even seen the dress yet.”
“Don’t need to.”
She smiles and touches his face gently. “I love you.”
“Love you, too. Now go finish getting ready so I can marry you already.”
She laughs and disappears back behind the curtain, and I feel something twist in my chest watching them. That’s what I want. That certainty. That ease. That absolute knowledge of being with the right person. And I had it once with Holiday, but we were kids who didn’t know any better.
Maybe we could have it again. I want to believe that.
Hudson elbows me. “That’s going to be you and Holiday in about six months. Calling it now.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I don’t know what the future holds,” I tell him.
“Ah, you’re in the uneasy stage. Enjoy the ride, little brother,” Hudson says, pulling a flask from his inside pocket and handing it to me. I take several gulps, needing it to calm my nerves.
Guests start arriving around four thirty. Vintage white horse-drawn carriages bring them from the parking area to the venue. They’re heated inside, with white leather seats and gold trim, and there are blankets embroidered with Claire and Jake’s initials for anyone who wants them.
Christmas music plays from hidden speakers as the carriages glide along the path. Each arrival feels like an event, guests stepping out in their finest, looking around at the transformed farm with surprised reactions.
I’m standing with Hudson near the entrance to the ceremony tent, greeting early guests, and my stomach is in knots. Every carriage that arrives, I watch. Waiting. Wondering if this is the one that’s carrying Holiday.
Emma walks over to us, and Hudson immediately goes to her side.
“Babe, everything okay?” he asks her.
“Fine. I’m just going to the bathroom before this party starts. I swear the babies are using my bladder as a trampoline right now.”
Everyone is worried her water is going to break tonight. Emma’s very pregnant with twins and looks like she could pop any second, but she refused to stay home. She’s stubbornly glowing.
“You clean up nice.” She looks me up and down. “The ladies are going to lose their minds when they see you.”
“Hush,” I tell her.
“Aw, are you blushing?” Emma exchanges a look with Hudson. “Is he nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” I snap.
“Is that why you’ve been checking every carriage for Holiday like your life depends on it?” she mutters close enough for me to hear.
“I’m not—”
“You absolutely are,” Hudson confirms, walking with Emma. “It’s pathetic. But also, kind of sweet.”
I’m happy they both stopped riding my ass, it gives me a chance to calm my nerves as more guests arrive.
Photographers are everywhere, capturing candid moments and directing people into positions.
I recognize faces from all over—Claire’s family and friends from New York, their designer clothes and easy wealth obvious even from a distance.
Jake’s friends from high school, more casual but still dressed to impress.
Half of Merryville is in their Sunday best, clearly excited to be part of something this extravagant.
But I notice how they look at me, and I overhear their conversations as they pass.
“That’s Lucas Jolly, the one from the articles…”
“Is Holiday Patterson here?”
“I heard they had a secret relationship when they were teenagers…”
“My cousin saw them at city hall and said they couldn’t stop touching each other…”
Great. Just great.
Another carriage arrives, and then another.
The ceremony tent is full of guests taking their seats. The quartet starts playing soft background music, and everything is moving forward according to the schedule.
But there’s still no Holiday.
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Matteo says.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
“You’re really not.” But he’s smiling. “It’s cute, though. In a pathetic sort of way.”
Matteo laughs and I flip him off.
Ten minutes pass, and it feels like an hour as we get closer to the ceremony starting.
I force myself to greet more guests with a smile and make small talk, all while acting like I’m not constantly watching the path from the parking area. Like my entire nervous system isn’t on high alert waiting for her to arrive.
The photographer wants photos of the groomsmen before the ceremony starts.
We line up, and I try to focus, try to grin naturally, and be present for Jake’s big day.
But all I can think about is Holiday and what I’m going to say when I see her, or how I’m supposed to act like we’re just friends when I’ve been counting down the minutes until I could see her again.
“Relax,” Jake mutters as we pose. “You look constipated.”
“Thanks. Very helpful,” I say.
“I’m serious. Breathe. She’ll be here.”
I force myself to take a breath and relax my shoulders. Then I stop clenching my jaw.
The photographer finishes with us and we head back toward the ceremony tent entrance. Guests are still arriving, the carriages coming more steadily now. The ceremony starts in twenty minutes.
A white carriage travels down the path with bells jingling and stops. The driver opens the door, and my entire world narrows to that single point when Holiday steps out.
She’s wearing a burgundy dress that should be illegal.
It hugs every curve, with a neckline that shows off her collarbones and the graceful line of her neck.
Her hair falls in waves past her shoulders, styled in a way that’s both elegant and effortless.
She’s wearing just enough makeup to make her blue eyes look impossibly bright, and her lips are painted the same deep red she wore Monday night.
She looks like every fantasy I’ve had come to life.
Her parents step out of the carriage behind her, her mom adjusting her shawl, and her dad offering his arm. But I barely register them. All I can see is Holiday as she looks around at the transformed farm, her eyes wide, a small smile playing on her lips.
Then she looks up and our eyes meet across the distance.
Everything else disappears.
Guests walk past me as music floats from the tent. The photographer calls out instructions somewhere to my left. Then I think I hear Emma say something to Hudson behind me.
It’s just me and Holiday, and five days of separation that suddenly feels like an eternity.
She stops walking. I watch her breath catch, watch her hand come up to touch her chest, watch color rise in her cheeks even from here.
And I know. In that instant, I know that whatever happens between us, we’ll be okay. She’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world.
Around us, I’m vaguely aware that people have noticed us. That guests are turning to look, and I hear the whispers getting louder. This moment is being watched and will likely end up on the internet by tomorrow.
But I don’t care.
She starts walking toward me, her heels clicking softly on the wooden pathway. Her parents follow behind, but her eyes never leave mine.
I can see the pulse jumping in her throat now. I can see she’s wearing the necklace I gave to her for her birthday when we were seventeen. It’s a simple silver star that I saved up for weeks to buy. She kept it.
Suddenly, she’s ten feet away, then five.
When she’s standing right in front of me, I can see the darker flecks of blue in her eyes and count every freckle on her face that I’ve memorized a thousand times.
“Hi,” she says, and her voice is soft.
“Hi.” It comes out rougher than I intended. “You look…”
I can’t finish the sentence because no words can describe her.
“You too.” Her eyes slide over me, taking in the way the suit fits, and I watch her swallow hard. “Really good. Like, unfairly good.”
“Unfairly?”
“You’ll be the death of me.” She takes a breath, and I can see her trying to compose herself, trying to remember that we’re supposed to be keeping a distance. “How am I supposed to act casual when you look like that?”
I make a face. “Are you kidding me? I should ask you the same thing.”
We stand there, staring at each other, while people move around us. At least a dozen people have stopped what they’re doing to watch us. Phones are definitely out.
Someone clears their throat nearby, but neither of us looks away from the other.
“I missed you,” she says, and my chest feels like it’s cracking open.
“Missed you, too, Peaches.” I want to touch her and pull her against me. I don’t know if I’ll ever let go. I’m tempted to cup her face and kiss her until neither of us can think straight.
“Holiday—”
“Lucas!” Jake’s voice cuts through the moment. “We need to start lining up. Ceremony’s in ten minutes.”
Reality crashes back in, and I know I need to go.
But I don’t want to.
“Go,” Holiday says, even though I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t want me to leave, either. “I’ll be right there. Third row, on the groom’s side.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I force myself to step back and turn away, even though every cell in my body is screaming to stay.
As I walk toward the ceremony tent with the other groomsmen, I glance back at her. Holiday’s watching me with an expression that makes my heart pound.
Emma appears at her side immediately, and I watch them hug around her big bump. Emma says something that makes Holiday laugh, and her cheeks turn pink.
Hudson elbows me as we line up for the processional. “Well, that was real fucking subtle.”
“Shut up.”
“You two might as well have made out in front of three hundred people.”
“We were just talking.”
“You were eye-fucking each other into oblivion, and you know it.” He’s grinning. “But hey, at least now everyone has confirmed that you’re absolutely crazy about each other. Stop pretending.”
The music changes, signaling the start of the ceremony. Guests hurry to find their seats. I give Jake a tight hug. He looks nervous and excited and ready.
From where I’m standing, I can see Holiday take her seat exactly where she said she’d be. Third row, Jolly side. The ceremony is about to start, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through it without staring at her.
This is going to be the longest hour of my damn life. And I can’t fucking wait.