Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
I wake up to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand, the shrill chime of my alarm piercing through the fog of my restless sleep. I reach over and silence my phone. For a moment, I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, my heart pounding. Usually I give myself a few minutes to run through my to-dos for the day at the bakery.
Then I remember. Today is the day. My heart flutters with nerves. My wedding day. Instinctively I turn over toward Tucker’s side of the bed. It’s empty. However, in his place is a large bouquet of white- and blush-colored roses. Even though we opted not to have a wedding party, Tucker has met a group of his college buddies at a local hotel for a groom’s breakfast.
I prop myself up on my elbow and reach out to pull out the card that’s been tucked in between the petals. It reads:
To my beautiful bride, I can’t wait to marry you today.
With all my love, Tucker.
I run my hands over the thick linen cardstock. At the top is a monogram of the letter H, and underneath are gold embossed letters with our names, Tucker it’s a piece of my soul. The thought of it burning, of losing everything I’ve worked so hard for, sends a physical pain through my chest.
What if the fire department can’t get there in time? I could help them, show them where the ovens are, how to shut off the gas valve. In my mind’s eye, I see flames licking at the cherished photo of Grandma Mae as it hangs on the wall. And her antique rolling pin, the one she used to teach me how to bake—it’s irreplaceable.
Surely Tucker will understand if I’m a little late, right?
I lean forward, tapping on the partition separating me from the driver. “Change of plans,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “I need you to take me to the bakery on Main Street. Now.”
The driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, hesitation etched on his face. “But Miss Montgomery…the wedding…”
“Please,” I plead, desperation clawing at my throat, tears welling in my eyes. “I don’t have time to argue. Just drive me to 242 Main Street.”
He nods solemnly. As the limo speeds down the road, I sink back into my seat, my mind a battlefield of emotions. The problem-solving side of my brain struggles to take control, assessing the potential damage, reassuring me that I have insurance, that I can rebuild. But the emotional side, the part of me that poured my heart and soul into this shop, threatens to consume me.
I think of my wedding cake and the gala pastries that have already been delivered, which means the worst possible scenario has been avoided. But it’s not enough to stem the tide of grief that washes over me. I close my eyes, hot tears streaming down my face, ruining the perfect makeup that took hours to craft.
I attempt to call Tucker, but his phone goes to voicemail. I try my mother, but after two rings I change my mind and hang up. I’m sure she’s had at least a half dozen mimosas by now. I try Tucker one more time, but it’s no use. I’m sure he’s turned off his phone, focusing on the wedding ahead, completely unaware that I won’t be there. A pang of guilt pierces my heart, knowing that Tucker will arrive at the altar, his eyes searching for me, only to find an empty space where I should be standing. I promise myself that as soon as I meet with the fire department I will rush back to the wedding.
I just hope I make it in time.