Chapter Four
Four
WAS I CONVINCING?
I have no idea.
My only plan was to keep my eyes closed—without visibly squeezing.
Trickier than it sounds.
The whole church gasped as I fell, and then it shifted into murmuring. I felt the air thicken and the sounds muffle as, I assume, my family gathered around me. I heard the rev say, “Don’t worry, folks. This happens all the time. She’ll be back on her feet in a jiffy.”
Hell if I would.
Ashley wanted to call 911, but my mother kept insisting it was just nerves. Grandma Dodie kept asking everyone to keep back to give me some air. Pete kept declaring I was turning blue.
Which I wasn’t.
After several minutes, when I still hadn’t revived, the rev leaned in conspiratorially to my mom and said, “Maybe we should take her somewhere more comfortable.” Pete offered to carry me—which got an instant “Not you” from my mom.
Pete was protesting with “I dropped her one time” when I felt two arms slide under me like a forklift and hoist me up.
Good. Pearce had been suspiciously silent so far. I’d half wondered if he was checking his investment app. At least now he was doing something. Even if I was in the process of weaseling out of our wedding.
He didn’t know that.
Yet.
And maybe I wouldn’t weasel out after all.
Something about being carried like that was just so …
romantic. You couldn’t escape it. You’re so out of control and so vulnerable, all limp with your eyes closed, caught in swells of motion—and the arms holding you are so anchoring and safe.
I felt like … a damsel or something. And Pearce, for maybe the first time ever, felt like a rescuing knight. Someone I could feel protected by.
Cherished, even.
Was that going too far? This was Pearce.
I was transported from the sanctuary, down the hallway, and toward the same bridal room where I’d first manacled myself into that used wedding gown.
Or, at least, I assumed that’s where we went.
All I could feel was my cheek against a solid chest, the reassurance of being clutched tight, and the rhythm of walking. Plus, just … full-body gratitude for the rescue.
I wondered if this one little stunt might save the day.
I noticed I wasn’t itching now.
Maybe the rev was right and I really would be back on my feet in a jiffy.
Maybe being carried off by Pearce in this primal way would stir my emotions.
Maybe we all did need to try a lot harder to be nicer to each other in this big, crazy world.
I could do that, couldn’t I? For a little bit, at least?
For long enough, maybe, to get back in there and get this wedding over with?
THE brIDAL ROOM had a sofa, and Pearce laid me down on it, lifting my head to slide what had to be his own thigh under my head, like a throw pillow. A cool hand appeared against my forehead as someone checked me for a fever. I heard my mom asking if smelling salts were still a thing.
Here was the truth of it: I couldn’t stay unconscious forever.
Pearce stayed right there, bent over me protectively, holding one of my hands as my mother took charge. You know that feeling you get when you know someone’s watching you? I felt that feeling on the sofa from Pearce.
Something about that seemed impossibly sweet.
He was showing up for me in just the right way, and it surprised me so much.
I could do this. I could open my eyes, say I felt better, and get back out there.
I could marry the man holding my hand. I could.
And so, at that thought, I opened my eyes, planning to act dazed and lightheaded.
But the first thing I saw wasn’t Pearce’s clean-shaven, dimpled chin. It was an unruly pigeon beard.
“Cooper?” I said, in a tone like Seriously?
His name came out louder than I meant it to.
Loud enough that the whole room turned to stare at me.
The thigh I’d been resting on, and the chest I’d been cradled against, and the hand now currently still holding mine—the one I’d been thinking I could marry after all—had been Cooper? All along?
“Where’s Pearce?” I asked, pushing myself up.
I looked around as the whole room rushed over—my mom, my grandma, my siblings, the rev, Mrs. Allen. My eyes scanned right and then left, landing at last back on Cooper.
He winked.
Meanwhile, my mother wasn’t mad—yet. “Sweetheart, you fainted at the altar!” she said, like she had front-page news.
I remembered I was supposed to be woozy, so I put my hand to my head.
At that, Cooper scooted closer to me and pulled me against his shoulder as a bolster.
My mother was all concern, leaning in. “Is something hurting? Did you get lightheaded?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m okay.”
“Ashley,” my mom said, snapping her fingers at my sister, “get her a glass of water.” Then my mom perched beside me while we waited.
“Reverend Martin says this kind of thing happens all the time. Young brides overthink it. They forget to breathe. Next thing you know, they’re passed-out unconscious.
” She patted my knee. “But once they reoxygenate, they’re good to go. ”
Where was Pearce right now, exactly?
My mom stayed focused, trying to find the teachable moment. “Number-one rule for weddings—and life, too, I suppose. Just keep breathing.”
Next, Ashley arrived with the water.
“Okay,” my mom said, like now we were getting somewhere.
“Big swig of this”—she touched the bottom of the glass as I took some gulps—“and then a little extra oxygen”—she demonstrated an in-through-the-nose breath so forceful that her nostrils moved with the suction—“and then we’ll get you back out there. ”
I wasn’t sure what to do now.
I had fallen ever so slightly back in love with Pearce while he was carrying me, but then he’d turned out to be Cooper. And I wasn’t marrying Cooper!
“Okay, now,” my mother said, still hoping the breathing would do the trick. “Sit up straight. You, too, Coop— Oh, hi, Cooper. Welcome home.”
“Hi, Mrs. Burton.”
“You’re looking … burly.”
His frown looked amused. “Thanks.”
And then she was back to business. She tapped me on the back. “Three seconds in, and three seconds out.” She counted with Mississippis out loud as she and I—and Cooper, too—took some gentle, cleansing, reoxygenating breaths, sitting side by side, three in a row.
While my mother’s eyes were closed, I looked over at Cooper, like This is all your fault.
And he gave me a little shrug, like You’re welcome.
Next, my mom turned to me, her face bright, and clasped my hands. “Okay, sweetheart. You ready to get back out there?”
And there was the moment of truth.
I hesitated.
I didn’t say no. But apparently I couldn’t say yes, either.
I guess I didn’t need to say anything.
My mom read my face, the way moms do, and her shoulders sank.
“Oh, god,” she said, and then she dropped to a whisper and said, “Did you fake it?”
I looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“Josephine,” my mother sighed—the word and the breath sailing out together. “You were two minutes from the finish line.”
“It was Cooper’s idea.”
“Cooper,” my mother scolded, like she was very disappointed.
But now it was hitting me—what I’d just done. How humiliating it would be for us to send all those guests home. How much money I had just wasted. How thoughtlessly I had just reduced all my plans for the future to rubble.
“I’m sorry,” I said as tears appeared from nowhere and spilled over. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
My mom, who always had more faith in me than I had in myself, patted my back and said, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sweetie. He must not have been the right one.”
But honestly, if Pearce Richmond—clean-shaven, competent, tux-owning, trust-fund-wielding Pearce Richmond—wasn’t the right one, then who the hell was?
I stared at my lap as the tears splatted onto Mrs. Richmond’s gown—until Cooper reached over to hand me what looked like a wad of toilet paper.
I looked at it. “What’s this?”
“A tissue,” Cooper said.
“Is it—used?”
“Naw. It’s just crumpled.”
I examined it. “Where did it come from?”
“My pocket.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
Cooper frowned at me. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re crying.”
I regarded the tissue.
“It’s clean enough to blow your nose into, at least,” Cooper said, giving me a look. “Don’t be fussy.”
I went ahead and blew—just as the rev approached my mom to say, “They’re getting restless out there. What’s the verdict?”
My mom gave the rev a tiny headshake, like Not happening.
“Got it,” he said, all business. “We should make an announcement.”
“I’ll do it,” Grandma Dodie volunteered. “You can’t argue with a grandmother.”
She took Pete’s arm and held on to it until he got the message and escorted her out.
As they left, my mom called, “Tell them the reception’s still on. They should all go.”
Pete turned back. “To the reception?”
“We’ve already paid for everything,” my mom said. “Might as well.”
Pete still seemed lost. “But what are we celebrating now?”
My mom winced, like she wasn’t quite sure.
“What are we celebrating?” Grandma Dodie said, like the question was preposterous. “We’re celebrating life! And the courage to follow your own compass! And the freedom to make your own choices!”
Pete shrugged, like Sure. Why not?
“Plus, it’s free food,” Grandma Dodie added. “And free booze. And a DJ named Mr. Beat Feet.”
“Ouch,” Pete said.
My mom and I weren’t taking the fall for that. “Mrs. Richmond hired him,” we said at the same time.
Once they were gone, my mother turned to me. “You don’t look very relieved.”
“It’s the dress,” I said, pulling at the collar. “It’s like it’s made of poison ivy.”
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get you out of it.”
“Can’t,” I said. “The zipper broke. There’s no way out.”
But that’s when my mom put her hand to my jaw and looked right at me. “There’s always a way out, Jo. Remember that.”
Did that start a fresh wave of tears for me?
It did.