Page 97 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

“I’ll come back,” she says.

“Hey! Hey!” A loud, male voice shouts.

Evie’s face pales as she looks past us toward the sound. Lincoln and I turn around. It’s that guy—Troy.

“Are these guys bothering you, Evelyn?” he asks, glaring at us both. He looks like he’s been drinking heavily, his eyes red-rimmed, his skin pasty. This is the groom, but his suit appears to have been borrowed from someone who isn’t even his size. “You two need to head out. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Actually, she does want to talk to them,” Evie says. “But I’ll come back after. Troy, aren’t you supposed to be up at the front, with the pastor? Getting married…to my sister?”

He visibly gulps and, shoulders hunched, walks back up the sidewalk to the separate entrance to the garden.

There’s so much I want to say to Evie, so many words. None of them would fix things immediately, but we’ve waited almost three weeks to talk to her. I want to get started now.

“I’ll talk to you both soon.” Evie gives Lincoln and me a long look.

I can’t read her expression, and it’s killing me.

* * *

Evelyn

A soft, summer breeze rustles the rose bushes. Right now in Paris, Antoine is probably celebrating Bastille Day with his friends, drinking at a café where they can watch the parade. He invited me to join them, but I had to come back to the US.

I don’t think I’ll return to France after this. Not if Lincoln’s and Caleb’s presence in this park means what I hope it means.

They’re still standing near the park entrance, and I can see their shapes from here. A bench is close by, but they don’t sit down. They’re simply waiting.

Only about thirty people are on the guest list. It seems Troy and Chloe don’t have many friends—or at least none of them close enough to interrupt their Saturday for a wedding. Most of the people here, I recognize as friends of my mom, but Troy’s parents are here as well. I haven’t seen them since right before the break-up. Neither of them has the guts to meet my eyes. They know what happened, and how Chloe is related to me.

Harold walks Chloe down the little aisle to a classical piece played by a violinist. The sweet scent of roses fills the air. Despite the last-minute arrangements for the wedding—which I now realize are due to Chloe and Troy expecting a baby—it’s a fairly classy affair. It’s everything my mother wants, anyway.

I’m watching Chloe and Harold, but something seems off over on the groom’s side. I think it’s Troy’s cousin, the best man, staring at me, but nope. It’s Troy.

My face feels hot. He should not be doing this, not now, not here. Not ever.

Resolutely, I keep my eyes on Chloe, hoping Troy will take a hint and do the same. He’s going to blow it if he can’t get himself together. Chloe’s already accepting the text messages, but at some point, she’s going to lose patience and call this off.

The vows are spoken. I space out through most of it, because if I think too hard, I’ll remember how Troy had promised to say those vows to me. Yet here I have to listen to him repeat them all to my sister. It’s so freaking wrong, and yet everyone’s acting like this wedding is a magical, pure expression of love.

I start to feel sick to my stomach, but then I remember Lincoln and Caleb. They’re waiting for me over there—they have my back.

Troy kisses my sister, and everyone stands while the two lead the tiny procession of me and the best man back down the aisle.

After an eternity of hugs and congratulations from the wedding guests, the pastor pulls Troy and Chloe aside.

“It’s time to sign the marriage license,” he says. “It won’t be legal until you both sign and I authenticate it.”

“Oh, right,” Chloe says, giggling.

She looks less joyful than I’d expect, and more shell-shocked. She’s not smiling at all, and I wonder if she’s truly as happy with this wedding as she says she is.

She worked hard to win Troy from me, but it turns out that he’s no prize.

We move around the rose-studded archway while wedding guests get into cars to meet the bridal party at a fancy French restaurant that we booked for Chloe and Troy’s reception.

The pastor holds out a clipboard with some official-looking paperwork. Troy signs his name quickly, then passes the pen to Chloe. Wedding rings sparkle on their fourth fingers.

Chloe holds her pen over the registry. This is it—the moment that she’ll be tied to Troy fully and legally.

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