“And what’s that?”
“A fun memory we’ll never forget. This isn’t real, but that doesn’t mean it’s entirely fake either. Just enjoy it.”
“And if I turn that corner and Landon isn’t at the end of the aisle?”
“He will be.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not an idiot.” Thistle lamely patted my shoulder, her attempt at solace falling short. “I’m not sure about much in life. For example, I have no idea why Aunt Tillie is still alive. She’s ticked off enough people that someone should have shot her in the face a long time ago. That I don’t get.
“Landon, though? I’ve always understood him,” she continued. “He’s at the end of the aisle. He’s here for the fake thing and he’ll be there for the real thing. The fact that you’re worried about it means you’re being a kvetch. You need to shake it off.”
I scowled, annoyed. “I’m not being a kvetch.”
“Believing Landon might not be there makes you a kvetch.” Thistle took a step back, never breaking eye contact. “He’s there. Look inside your heart. You know he’s there.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Thistle cut me off with a shake of her head.
“You’re a total kvetch and you look like a moron in that dress,” she said. “This is still your day. Er, it’s probably going to be your five minutes. You need to enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to laugh so hard about this the next time that we get drunk it’s going to be one of our favorite memories ever.”
Oddly enough, I could picture that. “Okay.” I bobbed my head. “Let’s do this.”
“I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the aisle. So will Landon. Have faith.”
Thistle disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone for a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I heard the wedding march blaring in the background – the organist wasn’t especially talented – and it almost drowned out my doubts. Then I thought about Landon, about his face when he smiled, and I knew Thistle was right.
I squared my shoulders and walked into the nave, my eyes instantly linking with Landon’s. He stood at the end of the aisle, clad in a cheap tuxedo, and clearly fidgeting. He stopped moving the second he saw me, as if something overtook him.
I forced a smile. This was my wedding, after all, I was supposed to be happy. And, for some reason, the look on Landon’s face caused me to relax.
I finished the walk down the aisle, ignoring the faces in the crowd because I didn’t recognize any of them, and taking the hand Landon held out for me as he looked me up and down.
“I didn’t pick the dress.”
“You still look beautiful.”
The catch in his breath caused me to jolt. “I think you might need glasses in this world.”
“I see fine.”
“The dress is a nightmare.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m wearing a plastic tiara.”
“I don’t care.”
“Thistle says I’m being a kvetch.”
Landon chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I don’t care about that either.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm, causing my stomach to do a little jig.
“So now you’re okay with this?”
“I’m very definitely not okay with this,” Landon replied. “But not for the reasons you think. It never was.”
“And what are the reasons?”
“Because this is not how it’s supposed to happen.”
“How is it supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t planned that far ahead. This seems almost … cruel.”
I scrubbed my hand over my cheek to keep a tear or two from escaping. “It’s probably going to get crueler.”
“How do you figure?”
“Just wait for it.”
As if on cue, the minister standing next to us began speaking. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
Landon tightened his grip on my hand. “Bay, you really do look beautiful.”
“And you really need glasses. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”
“Here we go.”
I smiled. I could do nothing else. Then I heard it, the sound that would ruin the wedding and cause Thistle to laugh herself silly for weeks. It came in the form of a motorcycle, and when I turned in slow motion – no, seriously, it was slow motion – I found a motorcycle racing up the aisle.
Michael Ferrigno, his eyes full of fury, sat astride the bike, and he looked anything but happy.
“Oh, well, I guess I should’ve realized he was coming back,” Landon muttered. “It was too good to be true without him. If he pinches your butt, I’m totally going to slap him silly.”
I snickered as I released his hand. “It will be okay.” I focused on Michael. “How are things?”
“Really? That’s what you want to ask me?” Michael’s anger was so strong it almost knocked me over. “You divorced me!”
“I heard. That must have been … rough … for you.”
“Rough? You pledged to love and honor me for the rest of our lives,” Michael seethed. “That didn’t happen. You left me.”
“I’m sure you had it coming,” Landon said dryly.
“No one is talking to you, turncoat!” Michael snapped. “You’re the reason for all of this. You’re the reason I lost her. You’re the reason I lost the diamond. It’s you. You did this to me.” He pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it at Landon.
I moved to slide in front of Landon, but he was having none of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Landon warned.
“Landon … .”
I jolted at the sound of the gunshot. It happened so fast … so, so fast. I widened my eyes as I searched Landon’s face, but he didn’t grimace or clutch at his chest. After what felt like forever – in real time it was probably only three seconds – I turned to look at the rest of the wedding guests.
Michael had been shot. He clutched at his chest and made a big show of dying. Of course, he was playing it to the extreme – there were silent movie stars who overacted less – but when he finally went down to his knees and I recognized the fake blood swimming through his fingers, I understood that someone else had fired the shot.
“I will haunt you to your dying day,” Michael rasped.
“I’m sure that will be terrible,” I said, moving my eyes to the balcony that overlooked the nave. Aunt Tillie stood there, wearing a white dress that was even gaudier than the one she’d picked out for me. The gun boasted a wisp of overdramatized smoke, and her eyes were predatory.
“There she is!” Clove stated the obvious as she stomped her foot.
“There she is,” Thistle agreed, her face twisting into an evil grimace. “Get her!”
WE GAVE CHASE.
What else could we do? Michael wasn’t real, and even though he was clearly dragging out his death scene, it wasn’t as if we cared about his fate. Aunt Tillie, on the other hand, was in control of our fates. We needed to find her – and we needed to do it now.
We opted for the back hallway of the church, figuring she would have to descend the stairs. She probably realized we were waiting, though, because she didn’t do as we initially envisioned. Instead, she crouched at the top and peered around the upstairs wall, giving herself a clear view of us.
“I had no choice,” Aunt Tillie announced. “I did what I had to do.”
“You act as if we care about what you did to Michael,” Thistle called out. “Although … he was your son on this show. Why did you shoot him?”
“He wasn’t my son. My son died long ago. His father – the devil incarnate – had his brain transplanted into Michael’s body. He thought I wouldn’t notice, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.”
Aunt Tillie fired a shot into the ceiling, causing me to drop lower as Landon covered my head.
“Why is the brain transplant story back?” Landon complained. “That was the dumbest one.”
“Really?” Thistle drawled. “I thought Chief Terry as a vampire was the top of the lame heap.”
“That one was just funny.” Landon knit his eyebrows as he watched me struggle with the back of my dress. “What are you doing, sweetie?”
“I need to get this off.”
“Why? I already said you’re beautiful in it.”