Page 86 of Bridesmaid to Bride

Oh, so the senator prefers Paige too. Well, screw him.

But I was right—she does love Foster! Good thing I didn’t smack him across the face, although I still kind of want to.

The jig is officially up. Phones are out, fingers are pointing, and the chatter is so loud, it scares off a flock of birds. There’s no hiding behind the veil now—figuratively or literally.

Paige, still panting from her sprint, says, “Eva was doing me a solid because—” She gestures dramatically at her face, “chemical burn.”

Foster’s face morphs from confused to lovestruck. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I want to kiss you right now—but probably shouldn’t.”

Zach lets out a huge sigh, drawing in my gaze. Oh, crap, I bet he’s devastated. But he mumbles, “Well, shit.” Then he yanks off his tie before shooting Kat a smile and wink.

She returns the smile, but it falls off her face when my father scowls at her.

Paige looks at Zach. “I’m really sorry.”

“Oh, come on.” Zach shrugs. “We’d spent like seventy-two hours together when we got engaged. I knew you were in it for the kink.”

“True.” Paige nods.

“Right on.” He shuffles down the aisle, giving Kat another point and wave, and she stifles another huge smile. My dad, on the other hand, has a scowl so deep it looks like it’ll never recover.

West and the groomsmen follow Zach, then Zach’s parents go next. Then, West’s parents.

I finally have enough neurons firing to look at my sister and ask, “Why in the hell did you want me with Foster if you love him, Paige?” It comes out way too loud.

“Sorry, it’s super complicated,” she offers, but I shoot her a look that could cut glass.

Aunt Myrna has started to fan herself with the wedding program, eyes wide with scandalized delight.

I step forward to grab Paige’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Okay, folks, nothing left to see here! Let’s wrap this up.”

“So you were just gonna marry Paige’s fiancé, Eva?” someone shouts.

I wring my hands. “No. Just standing in for the ceremonial duty. No real paperwork was going to be signed until later.” God, this is bad on so many levels.

“Wait.” Foster gets down on one knee. “Paige Abbott. Will you marry me? Here? Now?”

She lets out a giddy laugh. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you, Foster Easel!”

Sweet Jesus.

I plaster on a smile. “Paige, you remember you’re facially challenged?”

“Facially challenged?” she echoes, still too high on adrenaline and confessions of love to understand.

“You look like you went ten rounds with a jellyfish and lost,” I remind her.

“You suck, Paige!” a guest yells out before standing and walking away. A group follows him, then another.

“Ignore them,” Skye says. “And we can Photoshop your face back in later.”

I tug at the veil on my head. “This can cover you for pictures.”

“Yes!” Paige jumps up and claps. “Let’s do it—I want this.”

“I’m ready when you are, Paige,” Skye says.

“Guests of the bride!” I call out. “A new wedding will be happening in fifteen minutes!” Then I loop my arm around Paige’s. “Let’s go get changed,” I say, and we rush down the aisle together.

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