Chapter 25 #2
I wasn’t sure about that…but I did know that I needed to focus like Braden. Whatever had been holding me back, some weird notion in the back of my brain that Zack and I belonged together—I felt myself finding out I could let go.
I had to. Once and for all.
The last leg of the tour for our third album kicked off mid-January.
Before that, though, Braden and I worked with my mom to choose the venue and finalize the guest list, adding a few names to the list my mother had already put together with Braden’s mom when she’d sent out the save-the-date invites.
I’d also had a fitting for my wedding dress, and I promised to fly Roxy in once we were back for my mom to finish putting her dress together.
Roxy had sent her measurements, but my mom wanted to be sure early on—and Braden’s sister had come over twice and already left with her beautiful mauve dress.
We planned to have the bridal shower in the middle of March—and my dear mother took care of those invitations as well.
I planned to reward her with a vacation later in the summer to thank her, although the relief she seemed to experience now that I was participating in planning was huge in itself.
We also managed to choose a cake, hire a caterer, and book accommodations for the entire wedding party before we hit the road.
Ellie joined us for the first week of the tour. It was nice having her along—until I had to hear her and Zack having sex in their bunk.
The tour itself was phenomenal, and with Zack clear-eyed, not buried under the haze of alcohol, he could see that the fans really did love this album, critics be damned.
My mom gave Braden and me a couple of days to relax and then last-minute wedding preparations began.
We had to do things like choose a menu for both the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception; pick a photographer (my mother had narrowed it down to two); and decide on décor.
While we were having this discussion, Braden asked, “Why didn’t we just hire a wedding planner? ”
My dear mother looked hurt and started to say something.
Braden immediately realized his misstep. “Christine, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I just see how much work you’re having to put in…and I feel guilty.”
“I want to do it—I just need you both to weigh in on things.”
I knew from pictures that my mother’s wedding hadn’t been an elopement, but it had been a last-minute type of ceremony, close friends and family only.
So we forged ahead.
But then Braden wanted to look at houses.
More than anything else, that brought it home…
and a little voice inside asked me if I was truly ready.
For the first time ever, it wasn’t asking because of my hangups with Zack.
Did I truly love Braden…or was I in love with the idea of Braden?
And did some deep-seated fear of dying alone or never finding what I thought I needed make me cling to him?
I knew it wasn’t fair to Braden or to me…but I was too afraid to explore the notion.
So I kept moving forward, making plans—and writing songs for the first time ever. Just snippets of poetry and drum solos, but I even imagined the sounds of guitar and bass accompanying the rhythms I created and it was in those moments that I found some semblance of peace.
As for finding a house, I finally told him, “I have no idea what I want. I just need to get through the wedding before I can focus on that.”
He didn’t understand my way of thinking—and neither did I. “Well…do you want me to pick something? Or would you rather rent for the first few months and we take our time?”
“Why couldn’t we just live with my mom for a while?”
At that, Braden furrowed his brown eyebrows. “You don’t want to get our own place?” God, I sounded like a real asshole. He said, “Would you rather find a place in Nopal? Or is there somewhere else you’d rather live? Is that the problem?”
“No,” I lied. “It’s because I’m stressed about the wedding. I feel like I can’t concentrate on anything else.”
His expression immediately softened. “Oh. That makes sense. Would you be okay if I picked out an apartment for a month or two and once we’re back from our honeymoon, we can start looking?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you worried about money?”
“A little,” I said. Although that wasn’t the main reason why I was hesitating, I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“The album’s still doing well, baby—and we’ll be recording another one this fall. We’ll be fine.”
Knowing I was being an ass, I said, “Thanks for putting up with me. Go ahead and rent something. I don’t care where or what it looks like. It’ll be temporary.”
“Sounds like a plan. Now we need to figure out what we’ll be doing on our honeymoon.
” We’d already chosen to spend a week in Puerto Vallarta.
The plane tickets were already purchased and the beachside hotel had been booked—but Braden didn’t just want to sunbathe the entire time.
He wanted to explore a city we’d never seen before.
So we were immersed in planning along with my mother—and I didn’t even think about the bridal shower until the day of.
Again, my mother had outdone herself. She’d reserved the community room at the one bank in Nopal and it didn’t cost much.
I got up early that Saturday and helped her decorate—streamers, balloons, paper tablecloths—and I helped lay out all the food that I’d helped her prepare the night before: cookies, chips and dip, finger sandwiches, a veggie tray—and a sheet cake from the bakery in Dalton.
I’d also picked it up on Friday to save my mother the hassle.
Last but not least, we put together a punch with Sprite, Hawaiian Punch, and orange sherbet—strangely delicious.
It was a nice little room and I imagined it would have been nicer had the sun been out.
Instead, heavy gray clouds covered the town, promising either rain or snow—or rain that would turn into snow if it got cold enough.
I hadn’t seen the guest list but knew that it would be mostly relatives and some of my mom’s friends.
My grandparents were driving down and spending the night and, when they arrived, my grandma pitched in while grandpa went to the house to watch March Madness games.
Grandma gave me a huge hug. “I can’t believe this girl is getting married.”
As she kissed me on the cheek, I said, “I can’t either.”
“What games will we be playing, Christine?” she asked.
While my mother showed her the various activities planned, I nibbled on a carrot and looked out the window at the clouds. I tried not to think of it as an omen, but something was gnawing at me, something I’d been afraid to look at for a long time.
And I was still afraid to peek at it.
People started arriving—aunts and cousins, some of my mom’s friends, many of whom I knew from my days attending the school in Nopal, where I’d gone through both elementary and middle school.
A couple were past teachers and aides. The librarian for our tiny library also came, as did the wife of Nopal’s grocery store owner.
I was immersed in conversation with two cousins I hadn’t seen since Christmas two years earlier—and they were pummeling me with questions about the band. I too had questions. One was pregnant with no intention to marry and the other was establishing herself as an Instagram influencer.
As my mom got everyone’s attention, I sat with my cousins at their table, not even noticing her until she sat next to me.
And when I turned my eyes to her, I didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair was blonde now, assembled into a dramatic updo, but those brown eyes…
I’d looked in them for answers and love like a lost puppy dog for years.
Ava.
“Hi, Dani!”
“Ava…so nice to see you. I had no idea you were coming.” I’d had no idea she’d been invited, but I stopped myself from being rude enough to say so.
“I was surprised to be invited—but I couldn’t say no to this. My mom came too.”
“Thank you for being here.” I introduced her to my cousins at the table, now wishing more than ever that Roxy could have been here, but she’d already agreed to spend a week on tour with MAIMD, a band promoting their sophomore release on something like the tenth leg of their unending trip around the U.S.
They were also filming a movie-length video and wanted as much publicity as possible, so they’d offered to pay all expenses for my dear friend.
Looking around at this crowd, I was glad for her sake that she wasn’t here. Not another soul had as many visible tattoos as my friend. Not even Ava.
Not wanting to be rude, I turned to Ava. “It’s been a bit. What have you been up to since graduation?”
Her smile looked practiced, as if she’d perfected it in front of the mirror for years. Although it reached her eyes, it felt…fake somehow. “I’m a TikTok and Instagram influencer and social media personality. And YouTube too, but my growth there is slow.”
My cousin Claire, the one who was trying to grow her own audience on Instagram, immediately tuned in. “Oh, my God. I thought I recognized you: ‘Glam with Ava,’ right?”
When Ava’s smile turned smug and she cocked her head ever so slightly, I knew she hadn’t changed a bit. Life had obviously been good to her and she’d had no reason to be anything other than the person she’d been back in school. “Yes, that’s me! Where do you follow me?”
“On Instagram. Don’t you have, like, a hundred thousand followers there?”
“300K. Well, slightly over.”
Of course, she knew her numbers.
Claire said, “Oh, my God. I’m trying so hard to grow and I’m kind of stuck. Do you have any tips?”
“My best advice? Be authentic.”
I had to stifle a laugh—because, even though I wasn’t positive, Ava didn’t feel like she was being any more genuine than she’d been our senior year in high school. But what did I know? Maybe in front of the camera she was different.