Chapter 24
March
Three Weeks Until The Wedding
“Pause!” Sabrina slows to a stop and places her hands on her knees.
I decrease my pace and stand beside her, my muscles twitching to keep going, to feel the thrum of adrenaline in my veins. Our progress has been sporadic at best.
“Dear lord,” she huffs. “I can’t possibly understand why you and Carter do this for fun.”
I shrug. “It’s okay if it’s not your thing, you know. We can just walk.”
“Can we?” Her eyes go wide as though I just asked her if she wants to fly to Paris. “Oh, thank god.”
I set an easy pace and allow Sabrina to catch her breath.
Running might not be her thing, but she still looks like the cover girl for a sports magazine, with the most expensive pair of leggings, a running vest, and every hair of her perfect auburn ponytail smooth and in place.
It swishes from side to side as she walks.
“Much better.” Sabrina exhales deeply. “Thanks again for doing this with me.”
“No problem. But explain to me again why we’re running if you hate it so much? A walk would’ve been fine with me. Or, you know, brunch.” I hand her my water bottle.
“Because I’m trying to enjoy some of the things Carter does.
He keeps asking me to join him for a run and I’m too embarrassed to tell him I’ve never done it.
And now, I have.” She takes a sip of water.
“I mean how hard can it be? You enjoy the same things as him. And you and I get along.” She hands the water bottle back to me.
I swallow. It’s the heart of the question I’ve been asking myself for a couple of weeks now. How many of my interests are actually my own as opposed to Carter’s?
I stare out at the horizon, where the green of Central Park stretches beyond my line of sight.
If New York has a million versions, then the park is the melting pot for all of them.
Wealthy, blue-collar, lovers, families, old, young, a rainbow of languages and colors. I still fit here. Even without Carter.
“You don’t have to like everything he likes, Sabrina.” I smile, hoping it’s reassuring.
She purses her lips. “Well, there’s got to be something, right? No one said marriage was easy, but I’m willing to work for this. If he’s moving to London, the least I can do is get interested in one of his hobbies.”
I resist the urge to point out that she isn’t married yet. That this is technically what’s considered the honeymoon stage.
Sabrina plops down on a bench and lets out a long sigh. “What made you first fall in love with Carter?”
I miss my mouth with the water. “Excuse me?”
“As a friend, I mean. You two have such a strong relationship. What drew you to him?”
“I—uh—” I wipe water droplets from my chin.
This is a ridiculous line of questioning, but her eyes are like a puppy dog’s, like her hope hangs in my answer.
“Well, he’s generous.”
“Has he helped with your grants? With supporting your foundation?” Sabrina jiggles her leg like an overexcited toddler.
I sit down next to her on the bench and place my hand on her knee in an impulse to steady it.
“Well, I more mean—he helped me. A lot. Cynthia and Carter took me in when I didn’t really have anyone else.”
“Not your grandmother?”
The words sink straight to the bottom of my gut. “Well, no. I always had Babcia.”
“And Zuri?”
“Well, Zuri too, in a way. But not the same way.”
Sabrina pinches her eyebrows together. “Oh?”
I tighten my ponytail. “I guess what I mean is the Coldwell house was like escaping into the ideal version of a home I saw in sitcoms and movies. Easy, uncomplicated.”
Sabrina scrunches her nose. “That stodgy old place?”
“Well, the house, but also, Cynthia. To me, she was a queen. She was warm, a provider, a protector. What I thought a mother should be.”
She nods and slips her hand into mine.
“My days were always sunny there when life at home was…unpredictable. Does that make sense? And Carter—he made me laugh. Which sounds small but meant the world when financially, things were far from easy and girls at school were cruel. With him, I got to be myself and not worry about anything else.” It was my first experience with anything frivolous, with feeling light.
The world without consequences. “And then—we both lost a parent. I didn’t know anyone else who was dealing with that.
We kind of depended on each other. I couldn’t—can’t—imagine my life without him. ” I smile at the ground.
Oh god, I’m talking about her fiancé. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I raise my eyes to hers.
“But I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.” I slip my hand out of hers and fidget with my fingers.
“Sure. I suppose.” She stares off in a daze at the park in front of us.
Children with candy-colored helmets and knee pads ride scooters down the path. A couple lounges on a checkered blanket with a Trader Joe’s bag between them. Spring is coming, and along with it, wedding season.
“Have you ever just met someone and it’s instantaneous—that spark?” Sabrina stares straight ahead.
I clear my throat, unsure if I’m supposed to answer.
It’s a good thing we’re side by side because I can’t look her in the eye.
Trip’s hand skimming my waistband. His body between my thighs.
Him kneeling at my feet. Those perfect lips that I have yet to touch but have seen smile and frown a thousand times.
I press my hand to my collarbone, hiding the red creeping up my neckline. “Yes, I know what you mean.”
“Carter and I never had that.” She swallows and her throat bobs in my periphery. “It wasn’t really possible, with how it all started.”
With Trip’s accident.
“You were in a vulnerable place,” I whisper.
“Yeah, I suppose. It’s a bit different when you build something out of mutual pain.
And then both of us being so wary to acknowledge our feelings in the first place.
Still, there has to be another way to create that spark.
Fire can be created with the right tools.
” She gives a resolute nod. “I can make it happen.”
“Not all loves are fast burns.” Not that I have any idea what I’m talking about, but I have to assume it’s true. “You and Carter have found something that works for you. I’m sure it will continue to work.”
She looks at the ground. “Is it horrid that I want that fire, though? Is it too much to hope that I could find it and keep it for the rest of my life?”
My heart sinks in my chest. The way she looked that day when she was visiting Trip at the hospital. Maybe she’s not over him. Sure, she’s given her heart to someone else, she’s getting married, but Trip Coldwell is the type of person who sticks with you. I would know.
My gut twists, and I’m not sure if the ache is on Carter’s behalf or my own. It hits me that I still don’t know that much about how their relationship started or if there’s any truth to Trip’s theory that Carter was pushed into this engagement.
I rest my hand on top of Sabrina’s. “I’m sure you’ll find it again.”
She smiles down at my palm, then pulls hers away and dabs at her eyes. “Oh, stop letting me be such a downer. Let’s talk about something fun, shall we? I’m inviting a few friends over to my hotel suite next Saturday for a hen do. I’d love you to join.”
“A hen…do?”
“Yes, it’s what you Americans call a bachelorette party. Think you can join?”
“Sure.” Considering I have no life outside of wedding obligations with Sabrina and hunting down clues to a family curse—at which I’m failing miserably—I’m pretty available.
“Great!” She stands, brushing her hands down the front of her leggings, her emotional rain cloud nowhere to be seen. “I’ll send you more details but pencil it in for now.”
“I’ll do you one better and put it in pen.” I stand and smile at her.
“Fabulous! Oh, and”—she worries at her bottom lip—“I was thinking of asking Zuri to join. You know, so you have another friend too. Would that be totally out of line?”
“Why would it be out of line? She would love it.”
“Great.” The pink has returned to the apples of her cheeks. “I would too.”
After the fastest shower of my life, dumping kibble in Kotka’s bowl, and nearly being crushed by the doors of the 6 train, I’m back uptown a mere hour later to fulfill my wedding duties for the other half of the happy couple.
I mentally tally how much time I’ll have to review grant applications today.
Between curse breaking and wedding planning, the number of weekend hours I’m able to put in has shrunk by a substantial margin. I tap my foot and check my watch.
If the bridal shop had every amenity under the sun to ensure comfort, the tailor shop for Carter’s tuxedo fitting is the polar opposite.
The overhead lighting is harsh and white.
Do people want to look like they’re being fitted for their casket wardrobe instead of their wedding?
It’s possible I’m a little bitter Carter didn’t use Babcia for his tailoring.
After all, Sabrina’s known her all of two seconds and already trusts her implicitly.
But this isn’t my wedding, and I have no say. Consider it my new mantra.
The hard plastic chair is making my butt fall asleep. I shift to one side, hoping for some relief from the pins and needles.
“Are you bringing a plus-one?”
I lose my balance and nearly fall out of my chair at the sound of Carter’s voice behind the dressing room door.
“I—I already sent my RSVP. Just me.”
I clear my throat and nod at the tailor as he walks by on his way to the cash register.
He glowers. Babcia would have been much more pleasant.
I suppose it’s for the best, since I haven’t spoken to her since our fight.
It’s only been a week, but it’s eating away at me.
My fingernails are already nubs as a result.
There’s barely enough time to grow them back before the wedding.
“Yeah, but Sabrina just asked me to confirm—” The last part of his sentence is muffled.
“What?” I lean toward the doorframe.
“She asked—”