by Strong, Mimi
“We’ll see about that.”
She grabbed my hand. “What happened to your ring? It’s all green.”
I’d been sitting on my bed, and now I let myself fall back onto it. “Long story,” I said.
She climbed onto the bed next to me. “Mitchell already told me about the ring. Wow, it doesn’t look like it was in someone’s stomach. Are you sure it’s the exact same one?”
“Does it matter?” I groaned.
My phone began to ring, but it wasn’t the ringtone I’d programmed in for Dalton, so I didn’t move to answer it.
“Do you want me to answer that?” Shayla asked.
“Tell them I died.”
She answered the phone, then handed it to me. “It’s your uncle, the mayor,” she said.
I sat up and begrudgingly took the phone.
“Don’t hide up here all day,” she said.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes,” I said to Shayla.
“I kinda like Dalton’s father. You’d better not leave me alone with him,” she joked.
I waved her out of the room so I could talk to the mayor.
“Uncle Steve,” I said brightly.
“Excited about the big day?”
“Of course I am,” I said cheerily.
“Everything’s falling into place,” he said.
I told him I was glad.
He gave me an update on some of the arrangements he’d been making—super secret, hilarious arrangements.
Talking to him about our evil, nefarious plans made me smile, and lightened the weight on my shoulders.
Maybe, if I just hung in there, everything was going to work out just fine.
If not, at least that Saturday would be a memorable one, for the entire town.
CHAPTER 41
Saturday.
Wedding day.
Everyone around me was moving fast, talking fast, thinking fast. I looked at the face of the watch on my wrist. The hands seemed to be swirling around.
Suddenly it was three o’clock, and I had a mimosa in my hand.
We were still at the house. Shayla and Mitchell practiced a choreographed dance they were putting together for later that night. I watched from the couch in my pajamas, my wedding gown hanging up in my bedroom like the ghost of my future.
Suddenly it was four o’clock.
Nobody had heard from Dalton, or Vern. If they were going to arrive on time for the wedding, they would have to be in the air by now.
My mother arrived and forcibly dragged me off the couch. I insisted I had plenty of time, and that if I didn’t, I’d just wear my flannel pajamas and everyone could kiss my ass. I was the damn bride. It was my special fucking day.
“She’s been like this all day,” Shayla said, then they demonstrated their dance for my mother.
Everyone was moving so fast. I twirled the green ring on my finger, then pulled it off to give to my mother. “Here’s the ring for Kyle,” I said.
She demanded to know where the real ring was.
I blinked up at her.
My attendants flew into action, explaining the whole thing to her, including a dramatic re-enactment, with Mitchell pretending to throw up the ring.
My mother didn’t seem impressed. She turned to me. “You got a tattoo? Peaches, those are permanent.” She shook her head. “Now go get yourself into the shower this minute. You smell like a thrift store sofa.”
Head nodded down, I obediently plodded upstairs and climbed into the tub.
~
We drove up to the site of the wedding in my new car, with Mitchell driving, and Shayla holding my hand in the back seat.
The photographer who was covering the wedding for the exclusive magazine photos sat in the front seat, taking photos.
She’d arrived in town with little fanfare, by helicopter, but without her entourage of assistants. She insisted we all call her by her first name, Ruby, and treat her exactly the way we would a regular wedding photographer.
“This is how I got my start,” she’d said. “Taking photos of beautiful brides like you, on their special day. Of course that was fifteen years ago, and all the technology has only made it easier.”
Ruby kept clicking photos, swapping out digital memory cards as needed. Eventually, I did get used to her being there, but not so comfortable that I let down my guard and showed my true emotions. There’s nothing sadder than a sad bride, and sad brides don’t sell magazines.
We arrived at the cabin, and my mouth opened in shock.
The wedding would be here, after all.
There were still a few signs of construction in progress, but the location had been transformed by the tents and decorations. The trees surrounding the area were strung with so many lanterns, streamers, and bundles of flowers, it looked like something from a fantasy movie about elves.
My wedding helpers had hired a local florist, Gabriella’s, to do the flowers. Looking at their arrangements, I finally understood why that florist has such an amazing reputation in town.
The ceremony itself would happen down at the edge of the water, where guest chairs decorated with pale pink flowers sat waiting for the arrival of the guests in their buses.
My parents pulled in behind us and parked at the edge of the property, next to my car. Kyle came flying out of the back seat and raced straight for the biggest tent and the ice sculpture.
Shayla and Mitchell worked in tandem like a team, and got me into the cabin, where I would be hidden away until the band played my marching music—assuming the groom showed up.
Time passed.
My uncle, the mayor, called to brag about how well the diversion was going, across town. At least that part of the plan was working.
I checked and re-checked the clasp of the broach Dalton’s father had given me.
I stared at the watch on my wrist and watched helplessly as the hands spun around, time slipping away.
Why wasn’t Dalton there yet? Why hadn’t someone called?
I checked my phone for the millionth time. I had a bunch of messages from people I hadn’t talked to in years, congratulating me.
There was also a text message from someone else, from my recent past.
Keith Raven: Hey, I wanted to wish you luck and send you blessings on your special day!
Me: Thanks. I thought you hated Dalton?
To my surprise, I got a response back immediately.
Keith: Life’s too beautiful to hate people. You know me. Besides, I knew you two would end up together.
Me: Yeah, right. He’s late for the wedding. We’re not married yet.
Keith: He’ll be there.
Me: How would you know?
Keith: That day I first met him, at his house, he told me so.
Me: What did he tell you, exactly?
Keith: He said to take special care of his future wife.
Me: We’ll see about that, if he ever shows up. I’m about ready to rip off this dress and run out of here.
Keith: No, you won’t run away this time.
I said goodbye and wished him the best in Italy.
Then I went back to feeling anxious again.
The buses full of wedding guests arrived at the cabin site, their big engines groaning to announce their arrival, even though I couldn’t see anything from the near-empty room at the back of the cabin. I sat in my chair, staring straight ahead with a pretty smile as I got my makeup touched up. Ruby took more photos, and I practiced smiling.
Mitchell darted in and out, getting more and more agitated as the scheduled time for the ceremony came and went.
I started mentally preparing the speech I would give, thanking everyone for coming, and joking about how Dalton was already married to his TV show, but we’d try again next weekend… or something like that.
My father kept pacing and pacing, until I begged my mother to take him somewhere else. I tried to get everyone out of the room, but Shayla wouldn’t budge from my side.
I looked down at my dress and tried t
o lose myself in its beauty. I hadn’t chosen the mermaid gown, or the cupcake gown, or any of the elaborate dresses I’d tried on. They were all so beautiful and ornate, but not for me. The assistants finally slipped on the designer’s simplest white dress, and something happened. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see the dress. Just myself. With a look of wonder on my face.
Of course, because it was one of Nancy’s designs, it wasn’t completely plain. The dress had a secret.
The outside was minimal, but the lining of the dress was a bright fabric, with crazy, asymmetrical stripes in all shades of pink. When I saw the lining, I had commented that it was a shame to hide it away on the inside. That’s when I learned that with a quick flip, the dress fully reversed. I would wear a matching slip on the inside, so neither side would get sweaty, but I would have two dresses for my special day.
I know what you’re thinking.
Why go through the effort of making it reversible when you could just have two dresses? The answer is I don’t know. I don’t know why we girls love half the things we do.
“Stripes are pretty,” I said.
Shayla set down her mimosa and stared at me blankly.
“Maybe I’ll go out in the striped side,” I said to Shayla.
She seemed surprised to hear words coming from my mouth. “But that’s for the party, later.”
“He’s not coming. I suggest we save this disaster now and flip into party mode. Forget the wedding, it was just a publicity stunt anyway. If people don’t want to stay, they can get on the bus and join the picnic at Duck Pond Park. Uncle Steve says half the town is there, and the Bushy Beaver Tails are going onto the bandstand at sundown.”
“Everyone fell for it?”
“Hook, line and sinker.” I was too sad to elaborate, but my uncle had told me that twice as many people had already shown up as had come to the previous year’s town-wide picnic.
By pretending it was a secret, we’d created the biggest party in town history. Everyone had tried to crash the wedding to sneak a peek, only to find mayor Steve Monroe and the whole town council welcoming them to join the festivities. Even a bunch of rednecks from Wolfspit had shown up, dressed in their finest jeans and flannel jackets.
The entire Beaverdale mall had closed early so everyone could go to the event of the year. That annoying gossip reporter, Brooke Summer, was there with her film crew and looking despondent that it wasn’t the wedding site.
That last part made me smile briefly, before the sadness returned.
“Let’s give Dalton ten more minutes,” Shayla said.
We did.
“Five more,” she said.
I stood, shaky on my feet, and opened the door of the room. The caterers were bustling around the cabin, using the new kitchen to finish preparing the dinner for our guests.
I opened the front door of the cabin and paused. Something was buzzing.
With Shayla right behind me, I stepped out of the cabin. Everyone was looking up at the sky and pointing. A small airplane appeared in the sky. The plane got closer and closer, but didn’t drop down for a landing. It soared overhead, then kept going, disappearing into the clouds with my last bit of hope.
CHAPTER 42
I turned to go back into the cabin, my hopes dashed. Fuck it. I was taking off the dress and setting it on fire in the cabin’s wood stove. Someone else could inform the guests.
Shayla screamed and tugged my hand. I followed her pointed finger, up to a dot in the sky.
A sash of orange unfurled above the dot, slowing its descent.
As the parachute got closer, I could make out words on the chute: Dalton Loves Peaches.
Shayla squeezed my hand. “I think he found a way to tell you how he feels.”
I shook my head. “This is really over-the-top dramatic, even for Dalton.”
My father jogged up to my side, his cheeks flushed.
“That’s our cue,” he said.
“You knew?”
“Not the specifics, but I was told there’d be a cue, and I’m fairly certain this is it. I’m sure they’ll start the music any minute.”
Shayla quickly flipped the veil down over my face, then ran off to the lakeside, where she joined the rest of the wedding party at the altar.
The man in the parachute touched down on dry land nearby, and Connor rushed over to help him out of the harness. From where I stood, I could tell it was either Dalton or a very convincing stand-in.
Meanwhile, the plane, presumably piloted by Vern, came in for a less dramatic landing.
Once the plane’s engine turned off, the lakeside location seemed more tranquil than ever in the ensuing hush.
The entire forest seemed to be watching, holding its breath, waiting.
Dalton took his place at the edge of the water, with the others.
Something brushed my bare arm. I looked down in wonder as my father linked his arm with mine, and tugged me toward the carpet laid out down the aisle. The music was already playing. The bridal march.
I forgot how to walk, stumbling forward only to keep from falling down. My feet found their places, one in front of the other.
Everything moved around me in streaks of color.
I took my place next to Dalton, avoiding eye contact while the officiant began the ceremony.
I nodded along, then repeated my parts after the officiant. My vows were simple, the boilerplate standard stuff about loving, honoring, and cherishing.
Something I said set off Dalton’s smirk, which was impossible to miss, even out of the corner of my eye.
I expected him to have more elaborate vows than mine, but he repeated the standard stuff, with no sign of the stuff I’d seen on his fax.
Kyle marched up perfectly and presented the green ring on a pillow, which Dalton slipped onto my finger.
The officiant announced that we were now wed, and gave Dalton permission to kiss me.
He flipped up my veil as I turned to face him. His smirking expression said that he planned to do a whole lot more than kiss me, but there was something else there, too. Love?
“Peaches,” he said.
“Yes?”
Out of the edge of my vision, I noticed the entire assembly of guests lean forward on their rented chairs, straining to listen.
“Did you happen to see my parachute?” he asked.
“Did you happen to get an invitation with the starting time on it?”
A chorus of laughter rippled across our audience.
He grinned. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”
“I don’t mind waiting, but if you can’t send me a text message, I have to assume your fingers are broken, or soon will be.”
He got down on one knee in front of me. Everyone buzzed with confusion. “Attention, everyone!” he called out. “I know I’m doing things backwards, but you should know I screwed up my proposal, and don’t you think Peaches deserves a beautiful proposal, even if it’s at the wedding altar?”
Everyone cheered.
CHAPTER 43
Dalton turned back to me, gazing up with those gorgeous eyes of his—gorgeous not because of the particular shade of green, but because of the adoring, amused way he looked at me.
The sun was setting now, and the trees and lake were cast in a warm glow, almost unreal against the darkening sky.
“Peaches, I’m not good with words. Not unless someone else writes them out for me.”
“Oh, Dalton. Words don’t matter. Only actions.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something tiny, which he clutched in his fist.
“Miss Monroe, you’ve opened your heart to me, and, like a fool, I fell right in. When I’m with you, I can hardly catch my breath, much less my balance. I’m always falling, every time you look at me, every time you touch me. And now I’m utterly, helplessly in love.” He held out his fist and unfurled his fingers. “Will you do me the honor of accepting this BFD, and being my wife? I love you so much, and I plan to love you more and more, ev
ery day.”
Off in the distance, one frog called out to his friends.
“Well?” Dalton asked.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I could scarcely breathe.
Fanning my face with one hand, I said, “Yes, of course I will marry you. I already did, but if you want me to, I’ll keep marrying you every day.”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
He took my left hand, slid off the green, plastic ring, and replaced it with the new one, plus a slim band that fit alongside it. My Big Fucking Diamond gleamed in the golden light, but it was nothing compared to the fire I felt in my heart.
Dalton got to his feet. Amidst cheers from everyone, he wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me in for a tender, gentle kiss.
The photographer darted closer, snapping pictures of our kiss.
I started to pull away, content that we’d gotten the shots, but Dalton seized me and spun me around so I was hidden from the camera by his body.
“This one’s not for show.” He grabbed me tightly, his hands down on my hips, and he kissed me ferociously, just the way I wanted.
~
The rest of the wedding was as perfect as any girl could wish for.
My mother insisted she hadn’t cried during the ceremony, but her mascara told another story. My father said he couldn’t have been more proud, and that seeing how happy Dalton made me was all the proof he needed. Then he hugged me and wandered off to go show Kyle the airplane by the dock.
All the family who’d been at Marita’s wedding was there, and half of them were insisting that they’d “known it wouldn’t be long,” just from seeing Dalton dancing with me at that wedding.
After the sun went down, Vern got the projection screen unfurled between two of the bigger trees, and images of both me and Dalton as children ran as a slideshow. Sometimes the image was just one of us, filling the screen, and other times it was a split screen with a theme, such as both of us dressed as pumpkins for Halloween.
One photo in particular, though, made me smile.
Dalton was lying on someone’s living room floor, covered in a mountain of pillows and cushions. A round-cheeked, round-bodied, happy-looking girl with brunette pigtails sat atop the mountain.
His story about the neighbor, Chelsea, was real. He hadn’t made her up after all. I wished I’d known sooner, but then again, all those little doubts were beautiful in their own way, because they made me look deeper into my heart.