Page 88 of Bridesmaid to Bride

“Son of a—she’s actually going through with it,” Zach spits out.

I squint against the setting sun, catching the glimmer of camera lenses turning our way. “Looks like they’re swapping one groom for another without missing a beat.”

“That’s messed up,” he grumbles.

An assistant producer jogs over, waving frantically, her headset askew. “Zach, wait! We need to—”

“If you stay where you are, you’ll have the best shot,” I cut in.

“Huh?” she says.

“We’ve got a grand finale planned.” I throw an arm around Zach’s shoulder and steer him away.

We reach the helipad where the chopper sits idling, rotors slicing through the heavy air. The pilot leans out, eyebrows raised.

“Change of plans,” I call out over the roar. “Any chance you can fly two heartbroken gents and one innocent canine to the airport?”

“Seriously?” the pilot shouts.

“Dead serious,” I confirm.

The pilot surveys the chaotic scene then nods, a sympathetic grimace on his face. “Hop in.”

“Thanks, man,” Zach says as he loads Balls into the helicopter, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“You better hope this doesn’t get me fired,” the pilot scolds.

“Me too.” Zach slaps the side of the chopper. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Strap in, boys,” the pilot advises, flipping switches and preparing for takeoff.

“Good riddance,” Zach mutters, his gaze lingering on the beach one last time.

“New beginnings, dude,” I remind him, even as my stomach knots. That applies to both of us.

“Damn straight.”

We lift off, leaving the chaos and the cameras far below.

The chopper vibrates with every thump of the rotors, a mechanical heartbeat that’s way too calm for the adrenaline cocktail in my veins. I hope we can get a quick flight to New York once we’re at the airport. Balls shuffles around on the seat, snout nudging against my hand.

“Traitor,” Zach teases, but there’s no bite to it. “Figures, I get ditched by my fiancée and my dog on the same day.”

“Hey, he just knows who gives better belly rubs.” I scratch Balls behind the ears the way he likes. The pup laps it up, tongue lolling out as he settles more firmly against my side.

“Keep him.” Zach’s voice is flat but resolute as he stares out the window at the receding coastline. “He at least deserves his happy ending.”

“Zach, man, I—” My throat tightens. It feels wrong to take his dog when he’s lost so much already. But Balls whines softly, pressing closer to me, and I realize some things choose themselves.

“Consider it a gift for saving my ass,” Zach finally turns from the window with a smirk.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice cracking a bit. Balls wags his tail as if he understands.

“No, thank you.” Zach’s typical mischievous glint returns to his gaze. “Because when we land in New York, you’re taking me to a strip joint. Non-negotiable.”

“You got it. Boobs and booze, the Zach remedy.”

“Yup.” His chuckle is genuine this time, a little of the old Zach peeking through this apparently minor heartbreak.

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