Page 83 of What I Should've Said

I wince. “Well, technically, Bennett and I did not confer on our choices for bride and groom, but now that it’s happening, I suppose it makes sense, given their friendship and all.”

This afternoon, when I saw Clay wearing the groom tux I rented, I realized my faux pas. But seeing as I’ve got a crowd of people and an excited Summer all dressed up and waiting for this wedding to start, it’s a little too late to fix it.

“I already married that man once, and it didn’t end well,” Josie snaps. “I’d have to be round the actual bend to do it again!”

“It’s not real, Jose,” I try to reassure her. “Breezy found some fake officiant on the internet. It’s not like you’re actually marrying him. This is no more serious than a young girl playing dress-up in her closet.”

Josie growls and stomps a foot. I stand there waiting, my eyes wide, hoping she doesn’t punch me in the face. Thankfully, her anger is channeled into ripping the bouquet donated by Fran’s Florals from my hands. “You owe me so big. So, so big, I can’t even think of the size right now. But it’s going to be huge. Bigger than this whole damn continent, do you hear me?”

I nod, soundlessly, afraid any other strategy will end in my death. I still don’t know what happened between her and Clay, but I sure as shit know now isn’t the time to try to find out. This is damage-control time, and my only priority is getting this fake bride down the aisle without her scratching my eyes out in the process.

“Let’s get this over with,” she grumbles then, turning to face the aisle and shooing me out from behind the curtain of the tent Breezy and Earl set up last night in the town square. Thanks to her shove, I trip on the material and end up wheeling and winding into the aisle like a drunk Jack Sparrow.

Luckily, I find my feet without kicking off this wedding by starring as the bridesmaid in the pink dress who face-plants the ground.

I smile and nod at the crowd of townspeople as I make my way to the front of the aisle where Summer is waiting in her chair. She’s wearing a fancy pink dress—just like mine—with a matching pink purse hanging from the arm of her wheelchair as she waits to be the other bridesmaid in this little soiree.

Bennett stands beside Clay, the pretend groom, who, I’ll note, looks a hell of a lot more excited about this than my sister. His eyes are crinkled with a smile as he looks toward the aisle like a man excitedly waiting for his bride.

Despite all that, it’s not long before it’s all worth it. Every call, every favor I asked for, every single danger to my life Josie proposed.

Summer’s smile is bigger than my sister’s threats as the Bridal Chorus starts, and a happy tear glistens in her perfect blue eyes.

The guests rise, and Josie walks down the aisle, her face in a painfully forced grin. Sheriff Peeler is escorting her, a happy surprise I didn’t know about coming from the old goat, and Clay is rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. Summer stares at the bride, but I can’t help but look at the groom.

Frighteningly, he doesn’t look like a man playing pretend at all.

I start to worry that I’ve made a mistake and glance toward Bennett for some type of indication if I’m going to need to intervene. But when he meets my eyes and holds them, the heat of everything we didn’t get to finish last night right there on the surface of his brooding expression, I forget about the possible problem and swoon a little.

Today, here, at this wedding he helped me throw just to fulfill a wish to his sweet daughter, he’s never looked more handsome.

His eyes sparkle, and his mouth is upturned in a fixed smile. With an all-black suit and a matching black shirt and black tie, he looks downright suave.

Yeah. I still want to climb that man like a tree.

It’s tough, but I drag my eyes away as the Bridal Chorus ends, and Sheriff Pete passes Josie off to Clay. My sister pauses for a long moment before sighing heavily and putting her hand in Clay’s outstretched one.

He helps her step up onto the platform, and I turn Summer’s chair and back it up so she can watch their interaction from a spot where she can see their faces.

The fake officiant Breezy hired starts his speech as expected with a broad, warm sentiment of thanks for everyone being there, and then works his way into the details.

“Josie, do you take Clay to be your husband, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

Silence overwhelms us as Josie grits her teeth and swings her head to look at me.

I look anywhere but at her—the ground, the sky, to a bird that’s flying by, and then to Summer, whose smile has nearly eclipsed her entire face.

Please, Josie. Just say “I do.” I mentally chant as the seconds tick by, and I stare at my pink heels the whole time.

After an entire minute and throat clears from the officiant, Clay, and Bennett, Josie finally responds, “Fine. Yes. I do. Whatever.” It’s low and it’s agonized, but it’s enough to move this fake wedding along. Thank everything.

I have to suck my lips into my mouth to stop myself from laughing, but Eileen Martin doesn’t bother. I can hear her peals of squeals all the way from her spot in the back row.

“And do you, Clay, take Josie to be your wife, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and cherish, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” he declares, his voice strong and steady and way louder than my sister’s. “I’ve done it before, and I’d do it again every damn day of my life.”

Uh-oh.

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