Chapter 12
Twelve
Ginny
The next Saturday morning, there’s a knock at my door long before the sun even thinks about rising.
I crack it open, squinting into the dark. Ryker stands on my porch, grinning like it’s noon and not an ungodly hour of the morning. He’s here to pick me up for the airport, and he’s a morning person. I hate morning people.
“Good,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You’re awake and dressed. I was worried I’d have to carry you to the car. Not that I’d mind.”
“I’m barely conscious,” I mumble. “Flirt later. Coffee first.”
He holds up two cups. “Already handled. One’s black, one’s sugary and sinful. I wasn’t sure which version of you I was getting.”
I snatch the sugary one like it’s a life raft. “The one who doesn’t speak full sentences until caffeine hits.”
Ryker moves closer, his voice low and annoyingly chipper. “Guess I’ll have to find other ways to wake you up.”
I narrow my eyes. “Try that before I’ve had coffee, and I’ll throw this at you.”
He chuckles, taking a sip from his own cup. “You say that like it’s not part of the thrill.”
I roll my eyes, but the coffee’s already working its magic. My shoulders loosen. My brain starts catching up.
I slip on my shoes by the door and reach for my overnight bag. Ryker grabs it before I can.
“I’ve got it,” he says.
“Chivalry before sunrise. Impressive.”
He holds the door open for me, and I step out into what cannot possibly be the morning. The stars are still out, the world quiet in that sacred, sleepy way.
As we walk toward his SUV, he glances over. “I know you’re tired, but are you okay?”
The question is gentle. Not prying. Just…there.
I nod, then shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Vancouver used to be— My whole future was there. And now, I’m going back for dresses and Champagne toasts and pretending it doesn’t sting.”
Ryker’s hand brushes mine. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
The words fill me with warmth. “I know,” I whisper.
It’s quiet as we climb into the SUV, and I rest my head against the window. But now, I don’t feel like I’m heading into something alone.
We pick up Tarryn next, and she’s exactly as expected at five in the morning—fresh-faced, perfectly dressed, and carrying the largest monogrammed travel mug I’ve ever seen. She’s got caffeine for days.
She slides into the backseat with the grace of someone who’s never tripped over a power cord or panicked while packing. “You’re late,” she says, even though we’re not. “I had time to finish my serum routine and clean out my inbox.”
Ryker groans. “Remind me why I’m voluntarily spending a weekend with you?”
“Because I’m delightful,” Tarryn says sweetly.
We pull into short-term parking at the airport just as the first blush of sunrise hits the mountains. Sadie’s already there, standing outside the terminal with her suitcase, bouncing slightly on her toes.
She beams when she sees us. “Oh my God, we’re doing this! We’re actually doing this!”
I manage a smile, but my heart pulls tight. Vancouver. I remind myself again that it’s a big city. I’m not going to run into anyone I know. The odds are microscopic. Practically nonexistent.
Still, as we all walk toward the terminal, I keep my head down and my hood up, just in case.
Sadie throws her arms around me anyway. “Thanks for coming,” she says into my shoulder. “Really.”
I hug her back. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
And for a moment, I let that be true. This trip is about her. And maybe it’s also about me moving forward. I shouldn’t be scared to go to Vancouver. I did nothing wrong.
The flight isn’t even long enough for beverage service, but that doesn’t stop Tarryn from treating it like a red-eye to Paris.
She drops into the window seat beside me, pops in her noise-canceling earbuds, and slides on a silk sleep mask. “Wake me when we land,” she mumbles.
Within thirty seconds, she’s dead to the world, exuding luxury and mild judgment even in unconsciousness.
I glance across the aisle. Ryker’s watching me with a smirk, like he’s been waiting for the moment Tarryn checked out.
“You two bunking together?” he asks, tipping his chin toward the sleeping beauty next to me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “But she’s probably packed six outfits for a two-day trip. I can’t compete with that kind of energy.”
“That’s too bad. It would have been more fun sneaking around without being caught.” He chuckles, and then moves in slightly. “So…be honest. You think Beckett and Sadie are trying to join the mile-high club back there?”
I glance over my shoulder. They’re seated directly behind us, whispering and smiling like no one else exists.
“Probably,” I say without hesitation. “She’s been glowing since she got to the airport. They may already be members, or they’re applying for elite status.”
Ryker laughs, and I feel it skitter down my spine. “I mean, if they’re in, we might as well give them credit for the referral,” he murmurs, eyes glinting.
“Keep dreaming,” I say, sipping my water like it’s spiked.
“I do,” he says, looking at me.
I roll my eyes.
The flight is over in a blink. One minute we’re crossing the Strait of Georgia and the next the wheels touch down with a thump and a short bounce that startles Tarryn awake.
She lifts her sleep mask with a sigh. “Did I miss anything interesting?”
“How could anything interesting happen when you’re asleep?” I ask. “So…no.”
Two black SUVs wait for us outside baggage claim, polished and silent and probably stocked with bottled water and breath mints.
Beckett gestures vaguely toward one. “The guys can take this one,” he says. “We’re going to…check something out.”
“Golf,” Ryker adds, entirely too casual.
Tarryn narrows her eyes. “Golf? As in grass, balls, and bad fashion in the rain?”
“Exactly that,” Beckett says, already opening the car door. He gives Sadie a quick kiss. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel tonight.”
“Suspicious,” Tarryn mutters as the guys climb in and disappear like a pair of overgrown golden retrievers.
I shrug. “At least we get the fun part.”
“Damn right we do,” she says, linking her arm through mine and high-fiving Sadie. “Let’s find Sadie a dream dress and me something that says ‘sexy, supportive sister-in-law, and I’m available.’”
I laugh as we climb into our own car, bridal bags and coffee orders ahead of us, and absolutely no sign of our past behind us.
Not yet, anyway.
The bell above the door jingles as we step into Aimee’s Bridal. Sadie has a long list of appointments this morning, and this is the one she’s most excited about.
The store is scented with lavender, soft music plays from hidden speakers, and everything—from the curved racks of gowns to the tufted chairs and pale pink walls—feels like stepping into a cloud. A very expensive, mostly white cloud.
“This is the place,” Sadie says, her eyes sparkling. “I called Aimee last week. She has the dress.” She takes my hand. “The one that looks like something a ballerina would wear.”
“It’s very poofy,” I confirm. She’s had the picture saved on her phone for weeks now—a massive tulle skirt, soft sparkle, and sweetheart neckline. It’s pure magic. Or so she thinks.
Aimee greets us, warm and bubbly, like an old friend you actually want to run into. “You must be Sadie,” she says, taking her hands. “I pulled the dress this morning. It’s even better in person.”
She leads us into a private dressing room the size of my childhood bedroom. A soft blush rug covers the floor, and the three-way mirror looks like it belongs in a royal dressing suite. I settle into a tufted chair just outside the curtain while Sadie disappears inside with Aimee.
Moments later, the curtain rustles.
Sadie steps out, and my breath catches—for all the wrong reasons.
Oh. No.
The massive tulle skirt overwhelms her. The bodice squeezes her large bust, and the girls look like they’re about to pop. Her face says it all before she even opens her mouth.
“Is it everything you hoped for?” Aimee asks, her voice full of cheer.
“Um…” Sadie manages, smoothing the skirt over her hips, hips that now appear to rival a small tractor. “Just…give me a second.”
Tarryn’s jaw drops, but not in awe. I try to cover my reaction, but I know my eyebrows give me away.
“Oh,” I say carefully. “It’s very…fluffy.”
“I look like a cupcake,” Sadie laments, turning toward the mirror with a sigh.
Tarryn tilts her head, trying to find something redeemable. “Like a…generously frosted one?”
Sadie laughs, but it’s halfway to a sigh.
The dress she’s obsessed over makes her look like she’s been swallowed by a bridal pinata. It’s not the one. Not even close.
She turns again, catching the full three-sixty view in the mirror near the platform. The bodice pinches just enough to create rolls she doesn’t have, and the skirt? Less romantic ballroom, more runaway pastry cart.
“I look like I weigh three hundred pounds.” Sadie sounds like she’s going to cry.
I wince. “Maybe it’s the angle?”
“It’s not the angle,” she deadpans.
Aimee, bless her, doesn’t argue. She simply disappears and returns with another dozen options. Tarryn jumps in like she’s starring in her own Say Yes to the Dress spin-off.
A sleek off-the-shoulder gown catches Sadie’s eye first. She slips into it, and when she steps out, there’s a collective hush. It’s elegant—simple lines, structured fabric, a subtle shimmer when she moves. Red-carpet-worthy.
But it’s not her.
She keeps tugging at the neckline, unsure whether she’s supposed to feel sexy or strangled.
I can tell the moment she decides. It’s a beautiful dress…just not her dress.
Next is a lace-covered gown that clings in some places and floats in others.
It has long illusion sleeves and tiny pearl buttons that trail all the way down the back.
The train fans out like something from a storybook.
I feel like I should be barefoot in the forest, carrying wildflowers, reciting vows under an arch made of driftwood.
“It’s giving off woodland elf vibe,” I say.