Page 155 of Say You'll Stay

I’m hyperventilating and in desperate need of a paper bag to breathe in. I haven’t been calm since she finished my hair and makeup thirty minutes ago.

Why did we say let’s get married on Valentine’s Day? That’s the worst, cheesiest holiday we could have picked. Lucas was in a hurry, though, and applying pressure leading up to my graduation from college. After our first coordinated event at New Year, I spent all of January working on this business and planning a wedding while he sat me in his lap and teased me, speaking nonsense into my ear.

“I’m just making sure you don’t forget about me. If you want me to eat your pussy, I’m right here.”

I broke down three weeks ago while finishing a menu for a bat mitzvah while he teased me in bed, and before he buried his face between my legs, he said I still needed to finish putting that menu together for the mother organizing it.

He was kindly cruel that evening.

Other than his occasional distractions, my partnership with Charity and our businesses has been impressive. Since the New Year, I’ve had seven events—some big, some small—and enough to get my business off the ground.

Wholesome Eats. That’s the name I decided on.

We’re growing, and Charity and I shamefully redirected some of the spotlight from Mark’s trial and the news about his recently discovered “illegitimate” child—me—to put Charity’s event planning and my fledgling catering company on the map. Free publicity, we figured.

I saved enough from my few events to hire a few of the players from Lucas’ team to help serve dinner and drinks that I finished preparing this morning. I purchased a cake, though, since I didn’t have the time for that. One boy on the team likes to DJ, so we got him for a reasonable wage.

As elegant as I made this wedding, Charity and I did it on budget. My dad gave me his credit card and let me buy the dress of my dreams. He and Charity came with me to pick it out, and I don’t think I’ve seen my father so emotional. He cried and held me in the middle of the shop while the ladies working there teared up watching us.

I was excited at the moment to pick out the dress, but also the attention frightened me a little. And now that the big day is here, I feel a heart attack coming on. Something. Something is going to happen.

Again, why Valentine’s Day?

Why didn’t we go with something more low key, like Groundhog Day? Or better yet, not a holiday. Why did I say let’s pick a romantic freaking day in the weird last winter-ish month when it’s still cold outside and people might have runny noses or a lingering cough?

Oh my gosh, they are going to get sick at my wedding and everyone is going to hate me. Someone could die.

No. No, they are not. That’s the terrible voice in my head telling me these things and they will certainly not get sick. Besides, we both have small families and then there are Lucas’s friends here. We’re okay.

Then again, they’re going to be sitting around waiting for me to entertain them. I don’t know his friends well enough. They’re nice, but what if they don’t like me or my wedding? People are probably expecting things I never expected like a loud, outgoing bride probably and I’m just not like that. I’m not an entertainer.

They’re going to be staring at me and judging me.

Gosh, I’m a basket case. Maybe instead of a flight to wherever Lucas planned for this honeymoon, he can just drop me off in a relaxing spa or therapeutic center of some sort until they tell me I’m okay to step into the light again.

It’s possible I won’t make it through the day. I need a hug or something and someone to offer some sort of encouraging words. I just need to know if this was the right choice rather than Lucas’s Las Vegas suggestion. There would be fewer eyes on me, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking Jadon around a big city like that.

I’ll bet the weather is nice there right now, though.

“Allie, you’re acting weird. Quit rambling. You’re going to be fine.”

Charity sipping champagne with her ankles crossed, telling me I need to “chill” is the opposite of what I need right now. I think she’s still mad because a floor-length gown was “too conservative” for her. As though I need Belinda’s elderly mother seeing Charity’s thigh tattoo that’s just plain offensive.

It’s not like I said anything about the fact she went platinum blond two weeks ago after she demanded we design her ensemble during her red hair affair. Her bob cut platinum hair is a mood all on its own, especially with the lack of color, but I love it for her. Also, she’s upset because she has to walk down the aisle with Joel. She can’t stick a fake smile on for the fifteen seconds they have to have their arms linked for the sake of their two best friends getting married.

No, apparently it makes me evil. She yelled that one loud and clear in the rehearsal last night.

“You’re really not helping me right now, Char, and I could use your support.”

I hope Lucas makes sure Jadon is dressed. Maybe I should go check. Also, I probably should have done his hair. Lucas may not think about it and Jadon wakes up with bedhead often.

It was a rough morning for me. Jadon stayed with my dad and Lucas at the house. Joel was there, too, and they all had a boys’ night. I was here with Charity and she ordered massages to end the week of hell she put me through. A beauty routine and heel practice that felt more like a tremendous pain in my ass than the excitement I was hoping for of my quickly approaching nuptials.

I cried more than I smiled the last few days because of Charity. If the woman ever uses the words “Brazilian” and “wax” in front of me ever again, I’m going to turn violent.

Back to the important stuff, though. I got to talk to Jadon on the phone and when Lucas sent me a picture of him, his hair looked like he stood in front of one of those industrial fans for an hour or two. So, yes. He needs his hair styled for today, and I’m afraid Lucas might get distracted.

Okay. I’m going to go check.

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