Mr. Dalton
It’s what I’ve wanted for the past month.
Exoneration.
A way forward.
But with it, there’s a new tension in my body. Getting what I’ve been desperate for all along doesn’t feel as good as I expected.
I vow to push the news, and my complicated reaction, out of my mind for the rest of the day.
This is about my sister, I remind myself as I bound down the stairs to grab coffee for Mari and myself.
“What are you doing down here?!” Brooke grabs my shoulders ninety minutes later at the venue.
“Fixing flowers.” My face screws up as I adjust the swag on the end of the rows of chairs.
“You need to get dressed.” She’s already in her bridesmaid's dress, the soft pink making her golden skin glow. I’m still wrapped in a robe, but guests won’t be arriving for another hour at least. “Hey!” she calls to a tall, broad figure in a dress shirt crossing the hall. “Come tell Nova these flowers are perfect.”
Miles is wearing a dark suit with a baby-blue shirt that sets off his blue eyes. His gaze locks on Brooke, and he does a double take. “Ladies.” He adjusts his suit as he crosses to us. “You look…”
Brooke cocks her head.
“Elegant.”
My friend laughs. “Thanks.”
I glance down at my robe and flip-flops.
“How long have you been my brother’s best friend?”
“Forever.”
“Which means you have to do what I say.”
“That’s not what it—”
“Like take care of these flowers while Nova gets ready.”
Brooke blinks up at him, her eyes wide with intention.
He’s crumbling.
All six-five of Miles seems to bend. “Anything for you.”
Brooke beams at me, triumphant. “We’ll take care of this.”
* * *
“What’s wrong?” I ask when I head up the stairs to find a worried-looking Chloe emerging from the dressing room.
“She doesn’t want to get ready.”
“Mari?” I knock on the door. “It’s time to go.”
I tug at the neckline of the dress I just put on.
She doesn’t answer, and I push the door open to find my sister wrapped in her robe, clutching her bridal gown and wearing one high heel while squinting at the other held close to her face.