Page 59 of Bridesmaid to Bride

Her smile grows. “We’re really gonna be on TV! No shit?”

“No shit,” I say.

Dad’s face is beaming. “We’ll be able to stock those fancy new vibrators that look more like art than—”

“Dad, please.”

“Right, right.” He chuckles. “But you’ve done us proud, son. Real proud.”

“Things are gonna turn a sharp corner for us now, just you wait and see.” Mom’s eyes twinkle.

I scratch the back of my neck, nervous. But their joy is infectious, and I can’t help riding the high with them. “Just doing my part to keep the family legacy alive and buzzing.”

“Buzzing,” Dad echoes. “Good one!”

“You two better get ready for the spotlight.” My heart races at the thought of our tiny store getting its moment in the sun. “Soon you’ll be signing autographs on your receipts.”

“I’ll sign whatever they want if it means keeping our doors open.” Mom smiles.

“Maybe we shouldn’t count our chickens just yet,” I say, nervous, but deep down, I’m counting on this.

“Either way, we’re mighty grateful.” Mom pulls me into another fierce hug. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to us, Westie.”

“Besides each other.” Dad pulls us both into his strong arms.

“Besides each other,” Mom echoes, and I realize that no matter what happens next, this is what it’s all about—family, love, and sticking together.

The affection in their words wraps around me, even though my heart is split in half. I keep telling it to forget Eva, but it’s not listening.

Well, it has to start.

All the moments she and I’ve had together have been in a dream world where we live on a beautiful island and can walk to each other’s rooms. But this isn’t the real world we both live in. The world where we’re about to live nine-hundred miles apart.

I hate it, but I’m going to make the best of what I’ve been given—an opportunity for my parents, for the store, and for me—representing all the oddballs and misfits who think they don’t stand a chance.

Here goes nothing.

28

A Pact's a Pact

EVA

It’s time to get the private dining patio of the restaurant ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight. I’m here to get going on decorations and manage the different crews.

Skye and I invited Kat to meet us here for lunch, because the servers offered to bring us food while we work. West should be on his way here now as, days ago, he offered to help me. And after everything that happened between us last night, I’m nervous to see him. It’s so weird to be that close with someone—a connecting of the souls—and now we’re back to being buddies and partners in crime. But we agreed to this, so it is what it is.

Entering the patio with the ocean waves as a soundtrack, I start by creating centerpieces that scream “Paige,” which involves flowers but I’m not sure what else yet. West comes in yawning, so I say, “Rough night?” with a grin.

“Something like that.” He smiles, but it’s forced. Then he grabs some fairy lights. “How do you want these strung up?” he says, his voice strained.

“Uh, whimsically?” I bite my lip. That’s weird—he skipped the jokes and chit-chat.

“Whimsical it is.” He grins, but the brightness is dimmed.

No longer in the joking mood, I don’t say anything else, and not another word passes between us until he’s done with the lights. Then he comes over to inspect my floral massacre. “Need a hand?”

“Sure.” My face heats as the awkwardness settles in further. How am I supposed to be normal when he’s being weird?

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