Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cara
Today’s my wedding day.
I blink at the ceiling fan, waiting for my mind to start spinning in time with the fan’s blades. Today is the day I’m going to stand up in front of my family, friends, and neighbors, vowing to love and cherish Hayden Reilly until death do us part.
There should definitely be spinning. Instead, I’m strangely calm.
Maybe it’s because the last two weeks have been an emotional whirlwind, whipping up more chaos than my personal life has seen in years. By late this afternoon, it’ll be over. Even though there are more items to check off the master list, the outrageous fake marriage plan will have been executed.
Of course, I’ll have a husband at that point, which should be triggering some kind of panic. A buzz of anxiety, at the very least. Knots in my stomach. Butterflies. Anything.
Numb. That’s what this is—not a sense of calm, but numbness. I’ve been on a wild rollercoaster since Hayden came back to town, and the idea of becoming his wife today has finally short-circuited all of my emotions.
That’s the only rational explanation for why I’m not freaking out.
I close my eyes, trying to picture a big, fenced-in yard behind a cute little building housing Pampered Pets Grooming. I’ve been practicing, learning to imagine a future I’ll have a chance to make for myself.
A little house of my own, where I don’t have to strip in the garage and the hot water heater works.
My business, flourishing once I have the space to handle more than one dog at a time, with grooming stations and maybe even an assistant.
Plus, I won’t have to pay rent in the Gamble Block.
There are several dogs running around my imaginary yard—fosters that I’m getting to know so I can help them find forever homes.
Then, in my daydream, I turn to look at my house and I see Hayden and Penny sitting in the shade of the deep front porch, watching me.
I open my eyes because the butterflies are definitely dancing now. Hayden and his dog can’t be in my imaginary future because they won’t be a part of my actual future.
I’m saved from the fluttering escalating into full-blown panic by the sound of two car doors slamming in my driveway.
Georgia’s here.
Crap.
I throw myself out of bed and I’m halfway to the stairs when I remember the tank top I’m wearing with no bra is so old and many times washed, it barely exists.
After turning around to throw a baggy sweatshirt over my threadbare tank and boxer shorts, I sprint down the stairs. Seconds later, my arms are wrapped around my sister and she’s squeezing me so hard, I can hardly breathe.
“You came.”
“Of course I did,” she says, easing the embrace enough so I can breathe, but not letting me go.
We look enough alike so a stranger could probably place us as sisters, though Georgia’s taller and less curvy. It broke my heart when she left Sumac Falls for college, even while I was happy for her because she’d gotten away.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she asks when she finally steps back, looking me up and down. “We hit some traffic because of an accident, which means we’re running behind. And that means you’re really running behind.”
I look at my wrist, which makes no sense because I haven’t worn a watch for years. And then I pat the sides of my sleep shorts for my phone, which is also ridiculous because they don’t have pockets.
“It’s almost noon,” Tony says, and I jump because I’d been so focused on Georgia, I’d forgotten about my brother-in-law.
I give him a hug, but then his words sink in and I gasp. “Wait. Noon?”
That explains how I tossed and turned for what felt like the entire night, and yet still woke up feeling fairly rested.
“We’re going to head to the town square,” Georgia says. “You need to go do something with that hair.”
“Did you see Mom already?”
“She came out and said hello, and then muttered about finding something and then about her shoes before turning around and going back inside. We’re sitting with her, of course, so we’ll have time to catch up while we wait for the bride to get ready and arrive.”
I laugh, but it’s high-pitched, and I see the look that passes between Georgia and Tony as they walk back to their car. They don’t think I can do it, but when your forty-gallon hot water heater coughs up maybe a gallon and a half of hot water, you learn to shower fast.
My hair takes the longest. I blow dry it for longer than usual, mostly because my scalp is hypothermic after my cold shower.
Then I pull up the sides and clip them in a floral barrette.
It’s simple, but more elegant than my usual ponytail.
And I keep my makeup simple, hoping I won’t sweat and make it run down my face.
I’m putting the makeup back in the drawer when my phone chimes.
MEL
I’m almost there!
I’m smiling as I slide the dress off the hanger. It’s so pretty—probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned—and just the feel of the fabric makes me happy. That it was a gift from Mel and Lucas just makes it even more special.
I should probably wait for my maid of honor to help me put it on, but it’s a sundress, not a formal gown. And Georgia wasn’t wrong about us running late. I don’t want to leave Hayden standing in the gazebo in front of everybody, wondering if I pulled a runaway bride.
I take a breath and give myself a final look in the mirror.
How many times, in this very room, had I imagined myself preparing to become Mrs. Hayden Reilly?
With fake flowers in my hair and my hairbrush clutched in front of me like a bouquet, I looked into this very mirror and pretended the boy of my dreams was about to tell me he would be my husband forever.
Now that dream is about to come true, but the boy is a man now and he’s not marrying me for love. It’s all fake, and I just need to keep reminding myself of that over and over.
In the mirror, I see the door opening and because I’m expecting it to be Mel, I’m smiling when I turn. But it’s not my maid of honor. It’s my mother, and she’s not smiling when she steps into my room.
I’m not sure what to expect, mood-wise, so I keep smiling. “How do I look?”
Her lower lip trembles and unshed tears make her eyes shiny. “You look beautiful, honey.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She looks into my eyes for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s trying to come up with the right words for a last-ditch attempt at talking me out of this. I’m not sure anything would make Gin happier than me jilting Hayden at the altar—another humiliation served in the long-standing feud.
“You’re doing this?” she finally asks.
“I am.”
“Are you happy?”
Not in the way she means, but I am grateful to have a way to free us both from the bleak existence we’ve barely been eking out. “Yes, I’m happy, Mom. I really am.”
She nods once—briskly, as though she’s come to a decision. Then she lifts her hand and I notice the box for the first time. It’s long and slim, made of a tattered cardboard with a faded, ornate pattern printed on it.
When she opens it, I catch my breath. The classic pearl necklace and earrings are gorgeous—clearly very old—and elegant in their simplicity.
“Mom, they’re beautiful.” As I say the words, I realize I’ve seen these pearls before, in my parents’ wedding portrait.
“I know that maybe the Gamble name doesn’t mean what it used to, but it meant everything to your father.
It means a lot to me. I wore these at my wedding, and your grandmother wore them when she married your grandfather.
” Her voice trembles and she blinks rapidly a few times.
“I should probably sell them, but it would mean a lot to me if you wore them today.”
“I’d be honored, Mom.” I slide the earrings in myself, but then I bend my knees so Gin can clasp the strand of pearls around my neck.
“They’re perfect,” she says, emotion making her voice hoarse. And right now, I don’t care how many hot water heaters the jewelry could have bought. This is one Gamble heirloom we’ll never sell, no matter how hard things get.
The door opens again, and in the mirror, I see Mel bounce into the room. She freezes when she sees Gin, but my mother turns and gives her a warm smile.
“She’s ready now,” Gin announces.
“Good.” Mel looks at me and presses her hand to her stomach as she takes a deep breath. “It’s time.”