“It’s something to you,” Thistle countered. “Maybe you should tell us so we can hash it out.”
“I’d rather just get through this.” I grabbed the garment bag and yanked down the zipper, internally gagging at the mountains of white taffeta that rolled out. “Oh, this is going to be bad.”
“Of course it’s going to be bad,” Clove said. “Aunt Tillie was the wedding designer. What did you expect?”
“I’d better get this on.” I tugged the dress to free it from the bag. I would be swimming in it by the time I was dressed. “I have a feeling this is going to be a typical soap wedding, so hopefully I won’t be wearing it very long.”
“You mean you think it will be interrupted,” Thistle surmised. “I’ve been wondering that, too. I hope whatever interrupts it isn’t terrible … like another bear or something.”
“We all hope that.” I unsnapped my jeans. “I just know this dress is going to suck yeti balls.”
“Well, you picked the right color if that’s going to happen,” Thistle said brightly. “You’ll practically disappear into the landscape if that becomes an issue. Get in it. We can’t make fun of you until we see it.”
Oh, well, that was something to look forward to.
“I JUST CAN’T EVEN … .”
Thistle fell to the floor ten minutes later. I knew how bad the dress looked. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror before stepping out of the dressing room. It was even worse than I thought, if that was possible.
“Don’t hold back on my account,” I said dryly.
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Clove’s sympathetic nature was on full display as she circled me. “It’s just a little … retro.”
“Retro?” Thistle laughed so hard I thought she might split a pastel seam. “She looks like a giant cotton ball … with additional ruffles just in case we thought the miles of lace were too subtle.”
I bit back a hot retort. It wasn’t Thistle’s fault, of course. If I wasn’t agitated with Landon, I would probably be as amused as she was. Instead, my temper threatened to explode and I couldn’t stop scratching the back of my neck where the lace seemed to gather together into a choker of doom and chafe the hell out of my skin.
“Knock it off,” Clove warned, extending a threatening finger in Thistle’s direction. “You’re not helping matters.”
“Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to help.” Thistle was instantly contrite. “Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” I gathered the dress skirt and stomped toward the door. “Are you guys ready?”
“Not until you tell us what’s wrong,” Clove replied. “Don’t deny there’s something wrong. I can tell there is.”
“It’s not so much that there’s something wrong,” I hedged. “It’s that … Landon freaked out when he heard we were going to get married. He acted as if it was the scariest thing he’d ever come up against … and he’s seen poltergeists and witches now. It was a bit insulting.”
“He freaked out before he saw the dress?” Thistle tilted her head to the side. “Well, he’s going to run when he sees you now.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Leave her alone,” Clove ordered. “She’s upset because Landon was upset.”
“Of course he’s upset. He’s marrying a cotton ball.”
“She doesn’t get it,” I snapped. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t real. That’s exactly what I told him. It won’t get to the vows anyway. Something will happen to derail it before we get to that part.”
Thistle sobered. “Do you want it to get to that part?”
I shrugged. “No. I mean … I don’t want this to be my real wedding. I don’t want anything of the sort to happen here. I also don’t want Landon to be terrified at the mere notion of a wedding, especially when it’s fake.”
“Oh.” Realization dawned on Thistle’s face. “I get why you’re upset, but he’s been through a lot today. I wouldn’t hold this against him.”
“I’m not.” I honestly wasn’t. “I’m just … irritated. I don’t see why he had to make such a big deal about it.”
“Probably because he wants you guys to do this stuff on your own timetable,” Thistle explained. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this – I think he really does – but it’s almost too much for him to deal with at this point in the night. It seems like we’ve been at this forever.”
“Do you really think he wants to do it?” I felt pathetic asking the question, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“I do,” Thistle confirmed. “Trust me. He’s not running. This probably agitates him for the same reason it agitates us.”
“And that’s because … ?”
“Because we’re fried. We’ve been running around dealing with stuff we shouldn’t have to deal with and we’re emotionally spent. We’re beyond dealing with something this big, but we have to get through it if we expect to make it home.”
“And you think that’s all it is?”
Thistle’s gaze was pointed when she nodded. “I know that’s all it is. Have a little faith. Landon isn’t the type of guy to run from this. He is the type of guy to get frustrated because it’s getting forced on him and he had no input.”
Her words soothed me. “Yeah. He’s at the end of his rope.”
“Let’s just hope he uses that rope on Aunt Tillie when we get back.” Thistle flashed an impish smile. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. “I guess.”
“Not quite,” Clove countered, shuffling closer so she could plant a tiara on top of my head. She grinned when she stood back to get a better look. “Now you’re ready.”
“Oh, I really hate Aunt Tillie right now. She’d better start running before we wake up, because if we catch her … .”
“We’ll squash her like a bug,” Thistle finished. “Come on. We have to get through this if we expect to get a chance to squash her. We’ve got to be near the end. There’s very little else she can throw at us.”
Unfortunately, I was fairly certain she jinxed us with those words. I wisely kept that to myself.
Who else wants amnesia? I think it would be totally cool to wake up with no idea who you are, who your family is – especially that part because we have Aunt Tillie – but also have a husband who looks like that. That’s like my life goal now. Wait … does that make me shallow? Meh. I don’t care. I’m fine being shallow.
– Clove on her favorite soap’s new hunk
Sixteen
I heard the wedding march build to a crescendo as I followed Clove and Thistle through the church. We stopped outside the main room and glanced at one another before taking the obvious next step.
“This is kind of exciting, huh?” Clove was almost giddy. “Bay is getting married. We’re bridesmaids. This is always how I pictured it happening.”
I held up a ruffle on my dress’s skirt. “Really? You pictured this?”
Clove shrugged, unbothered. “You might hate me for saying it, but yes. I didn’t picture the ugly dresses. I pictured this moment, though.”
There was something so earnest about her expression I couldn’t help but smile. “I bet you pictured you doing it first.”
“I am engaged,” Clove agreed. “Still, you’re the oldest. Part of me thinks it should’ve happened this way all along.”
“Something tells me you won’t feel the same way when something dramatic happens to implode this fake wedding.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely still be glad you were the first when that happens.” Clove beamed. “Just think, though, we’ll be able to tell this story forever and it’s not even real. I’m kind of excited.”
I exchanged a weighted look with Thistle. She was the snarkiest member of our little trio. Even she looked mildly touched by Clove’s delight.
“Well, I’m glad you’re excited.” I pointed her toward the nave. “Now, I believe you’re supposed to march that ugly dress down the aisle.”
Clove saluted. “I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
“I know you will.”
I watched her go for a moment, torn. Then I looked at Thistle. “Do you ever want to smack her over the head to get her to shut up?”
Thistle barked out a laugh. “Often.”
“Me, too.”
“Not today, though,” she added. “Today she’s right. We should enjoy this for what it is.”