Page 60 of Sugar
I hear Layla suck in a breath behind me. “Yikes.”
True to her word, it takes her less than twenty minutes to have it all curled. She even pulls a beautiful hair comb from her bag with pearls and rhinestones that she sets in above my temple.
When she asks if she can do my makeup too, I give in and let her do her thing, feeling a serene sense of comfort at the feel of her soft brushes gliding against my skin. It’s a foreign sensation to have anyone do something like this for me—my mother was already gone by the time I cared about things like makeup—and I have to fight the emotion that threatens to take hold.
“There,” Layla finally says, tucking her things back in her bag.
“Wow,” Olivia breathes out, staring at me from across the table like I’m some kind of alien.
“I know, right?” Layla says back, smug as hell.
“What?” I ask.
“You look . . .”
“Fucking hot,” Layla finishes, and Olivia laughs.
I stand, wanting to see for myself. What I find in the bathroom mirror catches me completely off guard. Since leaving Saddlebrook Falls, I shed most traces of the wild southern girl who used to raise hell and layered on new pieces of the woman I was so focused on becoming. But the woman I see in front of me now looks like who I might have become had I never left, a version of me who really might have been Kasey Bennett’s wife.
My hair is curled around my face and shoulders, brushing along the length of my arms and back. The comb sparkles in the bright bathroom light, casting small, glittering rainbows on the walls and ceiling. Layla used soft brown eyeliner along my lashes paired with a dark mascara that brings out the blue in my eyes. My cheeks are flushed with the barest hint of a peachy-pink blush, and my lips are glossed with a simple, nude tint.
For the first time since I left, I’m realizing I’ve been hiding myself behind the mask of the woman I’ve tried so hard to mold myself into. One who’s sharp and savvy, if a little distant. A woman who can’t possibly be too hurt by anything because her heart is locked up tight and shielded behind a wall of thorns. But in my reflection now, I see the clear traces of my softer edges, of the warmth and spirit I know I still carry.
Layla and Olivia peek in from the hallway, eager to know what I think.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” I ask them, suddenly more nervous than I’ve ever felt in my life.
I realize too late everything the question reveals. But neither of them calls me out on it. “He’s going to love it,” Layla says confidently.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” Olivia adds.
“Ready for your dress?” Layla asks.
I take a deep breath.
Ready or not—here we go.
“Ava, listen to me—”
“No, Dad! I’m sorry, but no,” I seethe, squaring my shoulders as I stare my father down. I honestly thought I’d be able to skirt through this ceremony without him knowing what I was doing, but as I prepared to walk down the aisle, he was waiting for me outside the closed doors. “You shouldn’t be here. I have to go!”
His face grows red with the force of his anger. “Ishouldn’t be here? At my own daughter’s wedding? I should be a part of this, Ava! I should have heard this was even happening fromyouand not from Eleanor pointing out a damn bulletin board?—”
“Yeah, and what would you have said?” I interject. “The only reason you’re here right now is to save face because you know the whole town will be expecting you to walk me down that aisle and give me away. Don’t pretend like you believe in this marriage, Dad. You’ve made your feelings about Kasey and his familyreallyfucking clear, haven’t you? You don’t believe in Kasey. I’m not sure you even believe in me.”
His eyes widen. “That isnottrue, Ava. I’vealwaysbelieved in you.”
The emotion in his voice is enough to give me pause. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything like that.
“Look,” he continues, “you won’t talk to me, honey! I have no idea why you came home or how the hell we’re standing in this church right now so you can marry that damn Bennett boy. I hated the way you left this town in the dust, but it settled something in me to think you might finally behappyout there in the world.” He rubs his face. “I need to know why you’re doing this . . . Is Kasey pressuring you? Did something happen? He doesn’t deserve you, Ava. He never did.”
“You’ve never given him an actual chance!” I bite back. “You never cared totry. Kasey is a good man, Dad. He’s treated me with more respect and support than anyone elseeverhas.” I let out a deep sigh. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I’m making this walk alone . . . You’re more than welcome to join us for the reception.”
“Ava!” he snaps, but I ignore him. I give Darla Brown—the pastor’s wife—a small smile and a nod, and she looks back and forth between the two of us before relenting, pushing the double doors open.
Inside the nave, the air is warm and smells of flowers, and I have to hold my breath as I take the first slow steps inside. A hush falls over the room as dozens of eyes turn toward me. Rows and rows of pews are full of people from town and the sight of them all sets me on edge—they’re only here to bear witness to this mess, eager to be a part of this moment so they can chew it between their teeth and spit it later amongst each other.
I hear my father’s frustrated exhale behind me, but I don’t look back. Instead, I trace my eyes down the worn, carpeted path to the altar where my almost-husband waits. I don’t look at him yet—I’m not ready to see what might be written on his face. I’m not ready for the proof of his resistance to this, for the disapproval in his eyes or the tightness in his mouth.
