Page 67 of Merry Me
She gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not.”
We sat in silence for a long moment.
And then finally, I spoke. Each word measured, held between gritted teeth and a heart that still remembered how to break. “He doesn’t deserve to walk you down the aisle.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“But if he does show up…” I swallowed hard, forcing the words out through the lump in my throat. “I’ll be there.”
Her head turned, eyes wide. “You will?”
I nodded. “I’ll be standing right beside you. Holding your bouquet or your purse or the emotional shrapnel when it all hits the fan. Whatever you need.”
Tears welled again in her eyes…but this time, they were softer. Quieter.
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and I let her.
Because sometimes sisters cry in hallways, and sometimes ex-boyfriends wear Santa suits, and sometimes life throws you curveballs that hit you square in the heart.
And sometimes, just sometimes, you don’t have to have the right words.
You just have to stay.
We didn’t speak for a while. I didn’t reach for her hand. I didn’t move her head from my shoulder. I just sat there beside her in that quiet little alcove, the scent of pine and sugar cookies still lingering in the air, and stared at the rug on the floor like it might suddenly rearrange itself into a map that told me where the hell to go next.
But it didn’t. Nothing did.
I could hear Paige breathing…those soft, stuttered inhales that came after a cry so big it felt like it scraped something out of you. And under it all was the sound of my own heartbeat, thudding out a rhythm that felt hollow. Unsteady.
Something had cracked open in me, and I didn’t know how to close it.
Even now, years later, I could still see my father’s back as he casually walked away down the driveway, unaware he’d already put his suitcase in the car. I remember standing at the window with sticky fingers from gingerbread icing, watching him go. Waiting for him to look back.
He never did.
The memories of him always ended the same: with someone I loved disappearing while I stood there frozen, trying to figure out what I’d done wrong.
That—that—was the future I’d convinced myself was inevitable if I let Easton in again.
Another beautiful beginning doomed to the same, crushing end.
I didn’t tell Paige more about what had happened with Easton. I couldn’t. Because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure if I’d cry…or explode. Or admit that maybe the reason I ran out on Easton had nothing to do with the timing and everything to do with the fact that I’d never actually let myself heal.
Maybe I was scared—terrified even—that no matter how real it felt when he touched me, no matter how honest he looked when he said I was the only one…it would all disappear.
I would open my eyes one morning and he’d be gone.
And I didn’t know if I could survive that again.
So, I sat there in that hallway next to my sister, our silent grief braided between us, and I wondered how the hell you’re supposed to love someone when you don’t even know how to trust that they’ll stay.
CHAPTER 13
NATALIE
Iknocked gently on the door of room 204, the hallway quiet except for the absolute riot happening in my chest. The light over the door flickered faintly, casting a weird halo around the gold-plated numbers. Somehow that made the whole thing feel even more dramatic, like I was about to deliver news that would change the course of history—or at least the wedding. The door opened a few moments later, and it wasn’t my mom standing there.
It was Steve.
