CHAPTER THIRTEEN Johanna
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Johanna
“ST. PATRICK” — PVRIS
Present Day
Ican’t breathe.
I’m genuinely convinced my lungs have forgotten how to work, because every inhale feels like it snags halfway up my throat. My whole body is overheated, buzzing, shaking—like someone plugged me into a wall socket and forgot about me.
What the fuck just happened?
Something inside me forces my legs to work and walk back into the restaurant, but I don’t feel the air rush back into my lungs until the door closes behind me and the sound of conversation swallows me whole.
The energy in the dining room is the exact same as when I left—completely unaffected, as if the entire world hadn’t imploded right outside just five minutes before.
Be a good girl.
Listen close.
I’m done pretending there’s nothing between us.
His words echo in my mind like a mosquito buzzing next to my ear that won’t go away no matter how many times you swat at it.
A waiter passes in front of me with a tray of champagne flutes. I grab one without asking, down half of it in a single swallow, and close my eyes. For a brief, unhinged moment, I consider hiding in the trunk of someone’s car until the weekend is over.
Instead, I’ll stand here in the warmly lit chaos of this venue surrounded by people—some I love, some I simply tolerate—and try to remember how to be a functional human being.
Suddenly, the music fades. Jake—with his signature clipboard and his perpetual look of impending cardiac arrest—moves to the front of the room and taps the microphone. Strangely, he looks… calm—which means he definitely medicated himself before this.
“Everyone, please find your seats,” he says, scanning the room. “Since each member of the wedding party has decided they’d like to say something tonight, we’ll be alternating between the bride and groom’s sides. We’ll be starting with Johanna Harris.”
Of fucking course we will.
It’s not as if I didn’t know I would be speaking tonight. I’ve been agonizing over this thing for weeks. What I didn’t know is that I’d be going first, immediately after I’d just been emotionally accosted outside.
My heels click against the hardwood as I move toward the front, and I’m intimately aware of how many people are watching me. Modeling gave me years of experience being stared at, but this? This feels like a social experiment—like everyone’s silently placing bets on how long it takes me to combust.
I snag my clutch off the table, pull out the folded piece of paper with my carefully written speech, and approach Jake. He steps aside so I can stand in front of the microphone—hands trembling, heart racing.
How the hell am I supposed to do this when he’s watching?
It doesn’t matter—I have to do this.
For Mia.
For my brother.
To save everyone in this room from a full-on Jake meltdown.
I clear my throat once. Then twice. Then—
“Hi,” I say, and hope to God my voice isn’t shaking. “I’m Johanna Harris. I’m Grayson’s little sister, and one of Mia’s maids of honor. Apparently, I’m also the unlucky person Jake chose to speak first tonight. Thanks for that, buddy.”
There’s a ripple of laughter—thank you, Jesus.
It buys five seconds for me to force myself to breathe while I unfold my speech.
“I had a whole speech written,” I continue, a little steadier now. “It was a really nice one, actually. Very… wedding-y.”
I stare at the paper in my hand for a beat, knowing it’s not what I want to say anymore. I fold it cleanly in half, setting it on the podium in front of me.
“I’m not using it. Sorry in advance.”
A little more laughter as I look up and see Mia and Grayson exchange amused looks—no one shocked, everyone concerned.
“The fact that I’m winging this should concern you all deeply,” I say, because I do know this is a terrible idea but I’m incapable of stopping myself. “Because I’m known for saying things I shouldn’t.”
Someone—Tony, obviously—gives a big whoop from the wedding party table. I flip him off as the room laughs harder and Jake looks about ten seconds away from fainting beside me.
Maybe if he does, it’ll get me out of this shit.
“The last year of my life has been about reconnecting with things I thought I’d lost,” I say, the humor slipping without my permission.
“I’ve been lost. I’ve felt like I couldn’t go on.
My brother helped pick me up again at a time that seemed…
impossible. I didn’t deserve it, but he did it anyway because that’s who Grayson is.
I will always be grateful we reconnected and learned how to be in each other's lives again—especially after losing our mom earlier this year.”
I meet Grayson’s eyes. He gives me a small, steadying smile. He has absolutely no idea where this is going.
Neither do I.
“I had a front-row seat to watch Grayson and Mia find their way back to each other. Their love story has been messy, sure—but beautiful. It’s made me believe in something I thought didn’t exist anymore.”
I need to get a fucking grip, but I push on anyway.
“Mia,” I say, turning towards her. “When we were neighbors growing up, I would’ve never guessed someday you’d be the sister I never knew I needed.
We all know Grayson’s a disaster without you, but I have a secret—so are the rest of us.
You’re the glue that holds our little dumpster fire friend group together.
Thank you for saving my brother, but also…
thank you for creating the sense of family I thought I’d lost.”
Mia wipes under her eye. Grayson leans over and kisses her cheek lovingly, because he knows it’s true—and so does everyone else here.
“So maybe,” I continue, my breath snagging on the truth behind my words. “Maybe watching you two find your bliss in a world that makes it seem so hard… causes a person to realize some things aren’t finished after all. Maybe some things are left unfinished because they’re not meant to be over.”
The room is so silent now, you could hear a pin drop.
I force myself to inhale.
“Tonight is about the fact that love—even messy, chaotic, ridiculous love—can still win, even when all the signs are telling you it shouldn’t. So, on that note, cheers to the bride and groom. Here’s to second chances, and to love that doesn’t quit—even when it seems like it should.”
I lift my glass as applause finally breaks like a wave crashing against the shore once they realize I’m done giving my accidental confessional in front of them.
My eyes flick instinctively—traitorously—back to the wedding party table, but I’m not looking at Grayson or Mia.
I’m looking at him.
Brandon’s expression is unreadable in a way that’s somehow louder than anything he could’ve said.
I make my retreat from the front of the room and slide into my seat beside Mia, heat creeping up my cheeks as I release a breath I’ve been holding since the moment I said winging it.
Blessed relief hits at last—but it lasts all of three seconds before I realize who’s up next.
“I’m not going to ask what that was,” Mia whispers, my eyes still on Brandon as he stands and buttons his suit jacket. “At least not right now.”
“Please don’t,” I whisper back, almost begging. “I know that speech was… completely inappropriate.”
“I don’t know if I’d say inappropriate,” she murmurs as I finally tear my gaze away from Brandon long enough to look at her. “It just sounded like it came from someone who’s in a whole lot of pain.”
She doesn’t even know the half of it.
“I just want the best for you, Johanna,” she continues with a soft smile. “Whatever that may be—I want to help you get it.”
Before I can respond, the microphone squeals gently as Brandon steps into place at the front of the room. The air around us shifts, and every molecule in my body braces for anything that could come out of his mouth.
Of course the universe hates me.
Of course he’s next.