Chapter 29
NOVA
The wedding day is cold and clear.
I get out of the shower to find a voicemail from Clay.
My heart pounds as I hit Play.
“Pink, listen, about last night… I was feeling like shit after practice, and it threw me. But that’s no excuse.
I fucked up. Jay told me about the scholarship.
I know how important that was to you, and I wish I’d been there to see your sister’s face.
And to tell you how damn proud I am of you.
” His voice drops. “I’m gonna make it up to you.
Can’t tell you how because it’s a surprise.
But I can’t wait to see you in that dress. ”
My chest expands when I hang up.
He sounds so earnest and contrite.
Clay isn’t Brad. He’s not careless with my feelings, and I’m not some pawn in a secret game to him.
His life is complicated, and he invited me in rather than holding me at a distance.
But is it enough? I can’t throw my heart recklessly after him. He has trust issues, and I’m finally realizing what it means to take care of myself.
I start to tuck my phone away but notice a red notification with the number one hovering over my email.
I click it open.
Nova,
We’ve cleared you of wrongdoing and regret any inconvenience this may have caused. We’d like you to resume your job at the earliest opportunity.
Sincerely,
Mr. Dalton
It’s what I’ve wanted for the past month.
Exoneration.
A way forward.
But with it, there’s a new tension in my body. Getting what I’ve been desperate for all along doesn’t feel as good as I expected.
I vow to push the news, and my complicated reaction, out of my mind for the rest of the day.
This is about my sister, I remind myself as I bound down the stairs to grab coffee for Mari and myself.
“What are you doing down here?!” Brooke grabs my shoulders ninety minutes later at the venue.
“Fixing flowers.” My face screws up as I adjust the swag on the end of the rows of chairs.
“You need to get dressed.” She’s already in her bridesmaid's dress, the soft pink making her golden skin glow. I’m still wrapped in a robe, but guests won’t be arriving for another hour at least. “Hey!” she calls to a tall, broad figure in a dress shirt crossing the hall.
“Come tell Nova these flowers are perfect.”
Miles is wearing a dark suit with a baby-blue shirt that sets off his blue eyes. His gaze locks on Brooke, and he does a double take. “Ladies.” He adjusts his suit as he crosses to us. “You look…”
Brooke cocks her head.
“Elegant.”
My friend laughs. “Thanks.”
I glance down at my robe and flip-flops.
“How long have you been my brother’s best friend?”
“Forever.”
“Which means you have to do what I say.”
“That’s not what it—”
“Like take care of these flowers while Nova gets ready.”
Brooke blinks up at him, her eyes wide with intention.
He’s crumbling.
All six-five of Miles seems to bend. “Anything for you.”
Brooke beams at me, triumphant. “We’ll take care of this.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask when I head up the stairs to find a worried-looking Chloe emerging from the dressing room.
“She doesn’t want to get ready.”
“Mari?” I knock on the door. “It’s time to go.”
I tug at the neckline of the dress I just put on.
She doesn’t answer, and I push the door open to find my sister wrapped in her robe, clutching her bridal gown and wearing one high heel while squinting at the other held close to her face.
“Are you almost ready?” I ask.
“My dress doesn’t fit,” she says. “And my shoe is broken. And the wedding is in two hours,” she says, “and I can’t walk down the aisle with one shoe. People will laugh, and my life will be over.”
She’s having a meltdown.
For a second, I’m at a loss. I've never seen my big sister looking so out of it.
“I’m sure the dress fits.” We just tried it three days ago.
I help her into it and zip her up.
The dress is tight, which is exactly how it’s made to be.
“There. You look perfect.”
“Except for my shoes.”
One of them is broken. There’s a rip in the cream satin covering the heel.
“These were designer,” Mari groans. “They cost more than my first car.”
I step out of mine and slide them over.
“What will you wear?”
“I can go barefoot.” I grin.
“No, you won’t.”
“Fine, I’ll fix yours.”
“You can’t just glue them.”
I pull at the right side of the heel, trying to tuck the satin edge in. When I release it, the fabric sags again, flopping open like a gaping wound.
“Broken. I told you,” Mari insists.
“I can fix it.” I lean over the shoe.
Her eyes fill with tears. “You can’t fix it, Nova. It’s too late.”
I set the heel down and take her hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find that recording of Mom singing.
I know how special it was to you and how much it would have meant to include it.
I’m sorry I’ve let you down in the past. I’m sorry if I didn’t notice when you were struggling.
But we’re all doing our best, Mar. What looks easy from the outside isn’t always”—I think of Clay—“and even when things aren’t perfect…
” I take my sister’s face in my hands, careful not to smudge her makeup. “They can be really good.”
My sister blinks as if seeing me for the first time.
“Now come on,” I say with a smile. “Let’s get you to your wedding.”
We head down the stairs, and my attention catches on the flowers pinned to the railing.
The wire is covered in white satin.
I unwind a strip, and a flower comes off with it. Mari gasps. "What are you doing?"
I hold out a hand for the shoe, and she passes it to me, still shocked.
I take the shoe and use the strip of decorated wire to wrap around the fabric, covering the tear.
"There."
"It's not even." She hesitates. "Do the other one, too?"
It’s not until all the girls are finally ready to walk down the aisle that I miss Mom and Dad.
Now I'm sitting at the end of the aisle, feeling a pang of regret that they weren’t here to watch Mari walk down the aisle, too.
I can’t think about that now, with the music swelling and my sister’s face peeking out from the doorway.
The music starts, and the procession begins.
On my walk down the aisle, I don’t see the guys, but when I turn to face the rows of guests, it’s impossible to miss the tall, handsome men in the back.
Mari appears at the end of the aisle. Her hair is half twisted up and half loose, the mermaid dress sexy and modern and so very Mari. I’m thrilled to see her so happy.
Pictures snap.
Mari smiles, her eyes only on Harlan, and starts down the aisle, a riot of pink flowers erupting from her hands, shades matching her lipstick and flushed cheeks.
She looks every bit the bride, even in a broken shoe, and I don’t notice the flower until she’s almost at the front.
I rub the back of my neck to ease the tension. It’s not that big a difference.
But it is.
A small sign of her meltdown. It’s the tiniest crack in perfection.
It’s a relief somehow.
She reaches Harlan, who looks every bit as stunned as her.
Tingling draws my attention to the crowd, and I catch Clay watching me.
His gaze warms me.
He’s gorgeous in a dark suit, his tattoos invisible except for that trail inching up his neck. I don’t know when he got here, but I’m glad he did. I offer a tiny smile, and he returns it.
The officiant starts the wedding, and I focus on that. Not the dreams that seeing Clay in a church has suddenly sent spiraling through my mind.
When they exchange vows, I allow myself a moment to daydream.
"Nova, you’re my forever.
I’ll put you first.
Love you and cherish you.
I’ll be here when you’re at your best and worst."
I want to believe there’s a chance for Clay and me. Not some wild adventure, but a chance for a real relationship and future.
Brooke slips me a tissue, and that’s when I realize my eyes are damp.
The vows conclude, and Harlan and Mari kiss to deafening cheers. They sign the register with Chloe and Harlan’s best man, and we cluster around for pictures at the altar.
Once everything is signed, the happy couple rises and prepares for the recessional. Mari’s eyes meet mine, and I can tell she’s thrilled, but there’s a fleeting sadness.
The song Mom used to sing isn’t playing during this special moment.
I cross to Mari and hug her, and she hugs me back before pulling away to take Harlan’s arm.
Before they can descend the steps from the altar, a choir stands at the back and starts to sing.
My sister freezes as the words to "Home” stream out in a dozen voices.
Mari gasps, pressing her arm holding her bouquet to her face.
I swallow hard. Clay meets my eyes.
By the second verse, Mari and Harlan descend the steps. She’s smiling and crying, her lips trembling as she leans on her new husband.
Clay gives me that nod.
That "secret smile" nod.
That “I did the only thing in the world that could have made this day better” nod.
My heart starts up, and I don’t know how long it had been stopped for.
The photographer comes and sweeps us off immediately after the ceremony. I manage to sneak out my phone while we’re on our way to where we’ll shoot pictures.
Grumpy Baller: You look beautiful.
The message comes through in between poses.
Nova: You don’t look so bad yourself. If you’re lucky, I’ll save you a dance.
In the gardens, we pose in small and large groups with the happy couple. After what feels like hundreds of pictures, my phone goes off again.
Grumpy Baller: I’m taking all of them.
By the time we get back from photos, the reception is bursting with guests. Every surface is covered in flowers with soft lights strung up in the vaulted ceiling of the hallway. The wedding party and the newlyweds are announced and seated at the head table.
The MC, Harlan’s best man, runs through opening comments plus a few jokes about him that have everyone cracking up before he introduces Chloe.