Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Campbell
I linger outside of the room January and her bridesmaids are getting ready in.
My flats are usually comfortable, but I’ve been on my feet for hours running from the kitchens to pepper Chef with questions, out to the pavilion to ensure setup is following the timeline, and here, to check on my cousin, who’s turning into a last-minute bridezilla.
The door next to me opens.
“—why would she wear that?” January’s stricken voice comes through. “Only brides wear white at the wedding!”
“Yep.” My cousin Sydney ducks out. She closes the door behind her, leans her head back, and blows out a big exhale.
She’s wearing the dusty-rose, off-the-shoulder dress that’s the color and style I had my heart set on since I was five.
The shade and style have been updated over the years, but Sydney is exactly how I thought she’d look on my wedding day, from the fun white cowboy boots to her simple chignon.
Though the beige cardigan she’s holding in her hand wasn’t part of my plan.
My cousin cracks an eye open and slowly turns her head toward me. She puts her hand on her chest and sags against the wall, relief scrawled across her face. “Oh, good. It’s you. I thought Hannah came back and caught me wishing I was anywhere but here.”
Hannah’s a coworker of January’s. She’s taking my place in January’s lineup of bridesmaids.
“That bad?” I ask.
She rolls her gray eyes. “I’m tasked with giving this sweater to Aunt Margaret to put on for the rest of the night. She’s wearing a white dress,” Sydney finishes in a scandalous tone. She smirks and looks around. “Taking a breather?”
“Sticking close for when she beckons. She doesn’t want me in the room, and she made it clear when I arrived that there’ll be no checking on Stanford.”
She groans. “Fucking Stanford. I wish I could pick my brother-in-law.”
“I wish she hadn’t picked my boyfriend, but I’m so glad she opened my eyes.”
“They had to be closed real tight.”
I bark out a laugh. “One hundred percent.” I let out a long exhale. “I didn’t know how good it could be, but when you’re stuck with something that’s not terrible, you start to confuse that with good. Then you find out what amazing is really like and realize how low your standards were.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
Sydney squeezes my arm, sympathy in her eyes. “She thinks you’re sleeping with one of the distillery brothers. I guess it’s more than sex.”
“I thought so.”
Her compassion deepens when she hears the past tense. My vision gets blurry again. I cannot cry. I came to work with a splotchy face and bloodshot eyes, and I’m finally some semblance of normal. I only look anemic now.
“Yeah. That’s all it was.” I check my phone. Twenty minutes to showtime. “I should go out to the pavilion. Can you make sure January’s ready to walk in fifteen minutes?”
“Mom’s got the countdown going.” She gives me a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, my parents aren’t happy about this. My mom doesn’t like the rift it’s caused between her and your mom. Dad is so damn grumpy, and I think he really wants to talk to Avery and Thea about Thea’s job.”
Thea’s the manager of a baseball stadium. My uncle mines her for information each time he sees her. Except at this event.
Sydney shrugs. “They’re avoiding him.”
Well, he’s basically extorting us so . . . “It’s messed up.”
“It is. And I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry you’ve been put in this situation.”
“Thank you.” Her apology is the first I’ve gotten from that side of the family. It hits me hard. Without this wedding, I’d be spinning my wheels and wondering where I messed up. I’d be looking for where to go next, where I wouldn’t be haunted by another selfish prick who’d screwed me over.
Instead, I’ve coordinated events with three different businesses in town, and I have a city street fair to help plan.
I don’t care if it’s this year, next year, or in five years.
It’s going to happen. When I checked my email a moment ago, I already had a query from a woman asking if Hawthorne Guest Ranch had openings for a wedding next summer.
I kept thinking that if I could get through today, I could establish myself. I could grow the job I wanted. The reality is that I’m already doing it, and the wedding hasn’t even happened.
If January implodes right now, will I still be able to pull off a career in Huckleberry Springs? I’d still have three events to show off at. More chances to build my reputation.
And there’s my love life. When I moved home, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I hold a job? Why couldn’t I keep an underwhelming guy like Stanford happy? Why did I need my family’s name to get ahead?
Thanks to Durban, I know the answers to all those questions now. And I know what I’ll never settle for again.
My heart’s just a little lighter as I head toward the pavilion to take my post in the back.
When I reach the venue, Mom crosses to me, the skirt of her pale blue dress swirling around her legs, and gives me a quick hug. Avery and Thea are on her heels. Avery’s a bolt of sunshine in her yellow dress, while Thea’s wearing a light gray pantsuit with a deep V down the front.
“Jamison said she was over to the house,” Mom says quietly.
I nod as my throat thickens again. “Nerves, I guess.”
She rubs my back, gives me the look that says she knows I’m not telling her the whole story, but she doesn’t press.
Avery speaks out of the side of her mouth. “Get a load of that lady in white. Jan’s going to lose her shit.”
At the end of one of the aisles of chairs is January’s aunt Margaret. Sydney’s talking to her and holding up the cardigan. The aunt’s gesturing with her hands, and Sydney’s shrugging.
“She already has,” I say, scanning the guests. It’s a small, intimate wedding, more out of necessity than choice. It was like January could never create her own network. She had to siphon from mine. Mine would’ve been bigger. “Daddy at the barn?”
Mom nods. “Ready to bring the horses up right before the vows are said.”
“That’s going to be the highlight,” Avery says, pushing a strand of dirty-blond hair off her face. “Hailstorm looks so purdy with white bows in his mane.”
“I think Clyde likes his bling too,” Thea says.
I laugh, wishing it wouldn’t be so bittersweet to see the horses ride up. Wishing I wouldn’t get so wistful. “They’re the chillest creatures around today.”
“Want me to stand back here with you?” Thea asks. “It’ll look more Team Campbell versus Team January.”
I shake my head. “Have a seat and enjoy the uncomfortable show. I might have to rush off any second.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Stanford escorting his parents over the lily-lined trail to the pavilion. He’s in a tux, looking like the businessman he is. After he leads them to his seat, he wanders back down the aisle, nodding at all his friends and relatives.
Shit, he’s heading in my direction. I clutch my clipboard and look as impassive as possible.
“Is January ready?” He adjusts his bowtie. It’s crooked, but I keep that information to myself.
“She’ll be ready.” My emotions are raw, and I’ve had a rough morning.
I’m also sick of men at the moment. I run my finger around my necklace to make sure it’s showing.
“I’m good at what I do.” Before he can open his mouth, I make a point of looking at the time on my phone.
“Take your place and wait for your lovely bride before you put me behind schedule.”
Annoyance crosses his face, along with something that resembles regret, but the countdown is on for when Stanford is not my problem. He spins sharply on a heel and stomps to the front.
I lean against the corner beam of the structure. It’s begun.
My melancholy returns, but there’s a relief chaser right behind it. This day is almost done. I can cry into my pillow tonight, and tomorrow will be Baldwin-free.
Stanford takes his place under the flower arch and glares at me.
I hold his gaze, my unimpressed expression unwavering.
He’s the first to blink, sliding his attention away to the flurry of activity at the end of the path where the attendants are gathering and crowding around January for the big reveal—right on time.
A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he lifts his chin.
What’s the matter, Stanford? Second-guessing today?
I turn my attention to where he’s looking.
Sydney took charge for me, and she’s ordering everyone to line up.
Stanford’s douchey best friend is first to walk with her, then two of January’s cousins with Stanford’s cousins, and finally the coworker and an old frat buddy of my ex’s that I never liked.
One of Daddy’s staff kicks off Pachelbel’s Canon in D. A lovely version with piano and violin drifts through the air. My favorite. But instead of being nauseous like I thought I’d be, I’m bored.
This isn’t the wedding of my dreams.
This? It lacks heart. There’s no vision, just echoes of mine. It’s a forgery when the real thing still exists in my head.
Today is just a launchpad for me to jump off and meet someone who’ll treat me right. Someone who won’t lie or cheat. Someone who knows what I really need and will rearrange heaven and earth to provide it.
January didn’t take anything from me. She gave it all back.
I fold my hands quietly and wait for the procession.
Sydney takes a step, but she swings her head to the side and stops. The man on her arm almost tugs her off her feet, but he glances in the same direction, doing a double take. A murmur goes through the crowd, and heads swivel in the same direction that captivates Sydney.
What’s going on?
I peer over the heads of all the guests. Someone chortles, and I swear it sounds like my mother.
Then I see it. A rider on horseback, cowboy hat tipped down low, charging over the lawn.
What the . . .