Page 72 of Binding Their Hearts

“Kind of.” The strategy had saved them from more than a few outbursts on Dad’s bad days. “But bigger.” Thinking the universe was out to get her—or that knocking three times could fend it off—would be ridiculous. And yet. “I’m so afraid to depend on this happiness, to act like nothing cataclysmic will come along and trash it all. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had writing my vows. I still don’t know if anything is going to come out of my mouth when I try to say them.”

For Jay, the ceremony would be like putting a lid on a jar. He’d captured their love and attention, and once they made it official-ish in front of so many people, he’d have it locked up forever so nothing bad could ever happen. But the opposite perspective had been spiking her heartrate for weeks. The jar was fragile. It could slip and shatter. “The more often I admit how important Henry and Jay are to me, the more people who hear it, the more I think the universe is going to send disaster my way.”

Ollie could’ve been ten again, gazing up at her with eyes suddenly too old for her baby face. “Like Dad’s work buddy calling and refusing to say why.”

“Yeah. Just like that.” She’d been thirteen—old enough to know how phony cheerfulness from adults sounded. To know that when they asked for Mom, something bad was going on. The something still hadn’t righted itself. The happiness they’d had as a family before Dad’s accident just rusted away and flaked off, leaving dangerous edges behind. “I’ve been panic-stressing for weeks, and I couldn’t even explain why. Not to Henry and Jay, and not to myself, either.”

Nodding, Ollie backed off. “Okay.” She paced from one wall to the other, her wide-leg jeans whooshing along for the ride. “Here’s the thing. Disaster, that’s out of our control. Which is scary, I know. You can’t engineer an answer for every contingency, because people aren’t metals. We don’t have the same chemical properties and reactions. We’re inconsistent. We change.”

Alice wrapped her arms around herself. Ollie’s point had better shift, because so far, she’d made relationships sound even more reckless. “Uh-huh.”

“But people can do one thing straight out of chemistry class.”

“If you’re making some joke about sparks—”

“We can form strong bonds.” Ollie spun around, her dark eyes determined and unshakeable. “And we can refuse to give up on those bonds even when some outside force scares us. Covalent bonds, right? Sharing electrons. Not just side by side, but integrated, so we’re a part of the atom next to us and they’re a part of us—and together, we create stability.”

Her baby sister had grown up so damn smart.

Balling up her hands, Ollie bashed one against her own thigh. “Dad gave up on us. I am so angry at him for that. That’s, that’s cheating. Breaking the contract we had as a family—he ripped apart those bonds so he could embrace his pain instead of us. I get it; that sucks.”

The old pain flared. She mattered less than the next dose of pills. She would never be enough of anything—good enough, smart enough, strong enough—so trying was pointless. Caring just made the rejection hurt more.

Ollie pulled Alice’s arms open and laced their fingers together. “But trust me on this, please: I’ve seen how Henry and Jay are with you. Even if bad shit knocks you all for a loop, they aren’t gonna call it quits. This thing you have with them, it’s rock solid. Because all of you pour your whole selves into making sure it works.”

Clingy, Jay had dubbed himself. And Ollie was right. Even at their lowest moment, the devastation of Jay giving in to his sister two months ago, Jay had barely gone twenty-four hours before he couldn’t stand to be without his Henry and his Alice, whatever the cost. She owed Henry and Jay the same commitment they gave her. “I don’t have to believe the universe is kind, or fair, or caring about me at all. I just have to trust that Henry and Jay are.”

They’d given her mountains of evidence already.

“Yes! Perfect.” Ollie bobbed until Alice mirrored her pep-talk excitement. “Fabulous. C’mon, clothes off.” She pushed Alice toward the dress. “I won’t let you panic-stress your way into being late for your own wedding.”

She almost protested, but the criticism was fair. “Thanks, Ollie.”

Stripping down she accomplished in a flash. A small silk bag on a second hanger revealed undergarments. Hers held silver silk underwear in a low bikini cut and a set of stick-on bra cups. Eyeing the dress, suspicion prickling her spine, she turned the hanger around.

Oh, her wedding dress had a plunge, all right. The back half didn’t exist—a flowing cowl cascaded down the sides and gathered at the top of her ass. Her back heated, the weight of Henry’s hand splaying against her spine in memory, while she got her breasts in place and stepped into the dress.

“You look amazing.” Ollie pointed to the fancy wooden chair beside a vanity table and a full-length mirror. “Go. Sit. I’ll do your face.”

Sitting and staring at Ollie’s dress, she idly registered the vivid dark lavender swirls of fabric. The style mimicked her own dress, but with a girlish look. Soft and flowing rather than sophisticated and clinging. “Did Henry pick that out? Does he know you’re here?”

“Look up.” Ollie brushed on a thin coat of mascara. “Emma said only she knows.”

Her sister. Henry’s mother. Jay—

Alone.

“Ollie, is anyone else here?”

The lip colors came out. Ollie paused, head cocked to one side. “Probably? I’ve been stashed in this room waiting for you, so…” Shrugging, she raised the pencil and started outlining Alice’s lips. “There’s gotta be a zillion people in the salon by now.”

She backed her head from the pencil. “No, I mean a surprise person. For Jay.” The list of possible suspects came up awfully short. “He’s all alone.”

“Oh! He’s—” Ollie curved her lips together, shaking her head. “He’ll be good.” She extended her hand, one finger crooked. “Pinky swear.”

As they linked fingers, a knock at the door turned into a photographer in the room with them. Avery vowed she’d blend into the walls, and she did, quiet except for the low clicking from the enormous camera she carried.

Once Ollie had finished the makeup and brushed Alice’s hair, she scooped up the shoeboxes. Hers contained ballet-style flats in a slightly paler purple than her dress. Alice’s—

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