Page 1 of Thoroughly Pucked

1

KEEPING IT TIGHT

Aubrey

They say every girl dreams about her wedding day, but who arethey, and how dotheyknow? Did they interview every girl? Also, screw that lie.

I never dreamed of this.

I’m in the musty, wood-paneled bridal room at the non-denominational neighborhood church where my parents were hitched and where my mom still serves as chorus director. I peer down at the lace and tulle dress that feels too long as it grazes my ankles, the diamond solitaire on my ring finger that’s a touch too loose, then the princess-cut lace bodice that’s too pretty for my taste.

This is someone else’s dream for me.

I smooth a shaky hand over my dress, then spin around and meet the gazes of my two bridesmaids—mybookish longtime bestie, Trina, and my feisty and fabulous friend, Ivy.

I put all my energy on them and their unmatching black dresses—I let them pick their outfits because…have you seen bridesmaid’s dresses? “You both look amazing,” I say, since why focus on me when I can focus on others?

Trina turns it right back on me though, saying, “Youlook beautiful, Aubs.”

“It’s your day and you’re gorgeous,” Ivy adds.

I give a big, playful shoulder shrug and pluck at my dress. “This thing? I just grabbed it from a hanger in the closet.” I’m the fun one, the loud one, the friendly one. So that’s who I’ll be right now, dammit.

Trina holds up a hand. “Stop for just a second and listen…You do look beautiful.”

It’s all too much—these compliments, this dress, this day, these last few minutes before I sayI do. “Thanks,” I say, fidgeting with my ring.

Sensing trouble, Trina steps closer, saying with concern, “You don’t seem like yourself, Aubs.”

“If you need anything, just say the word,” Ivy puts in, then points to the door. “Ride or die.”

That offer is far too tempting, but I really shouldn’t go there, even in my head.

Aiden’s the guy for me. He has been since we went to prom together ten years ago. Since we dated again when he returned to Duck Falls briefly after college. And since my wise old dad with the soft, squishy heart told my mom he thought Aiden would be the perfect husband.

“I’m all good,” I say, managing to sound peppy for my friends. I jerk my gaze to the window, staring longingly through the freshly cleaned glass at the parking lot and the white, electric convertible my brother rented for us.

But what if friendly, outgoing Aiden Peters, who returned to town last year to run his family’s pie shop, isn’t the guy I should marry? My gut churns. I hate making a scene, but surely, Trina and Ivy will have the answer. “Girls, I’m not sure if I?—”

The door swings open with a loudthunk, the wood slapping the wall behind it.

Ivy flinches. Trina snaps her gaze to the slim guy in jeans and a polo, a smattering of freckles across his fair complexion, his blond hair incongruously messy for today. Aiden’s here and he’s not wearing his tux.

Ivy whips out an arm, pointing to the door. “Rules, Aiden! You can’t see Aubrey.”

“And hello? Put your freaking tux on,” Trina jumps in, like she can’t believe sweet, teddy-bear Aiden forgot to don his duds. “You’re getting married in ten minutes.”

Aiden plucks at his lavender pastel shirt, likethis thing?“Actually, I think I look pretty good for today.”

I startle, his odd comment and odd demeanor knocking me further off my game. “W-what do you mean?” I stammer, but there’s a weirdly shameful hope rising inside me.

“Yeah. What do you mean?” Trina demands.

With his best customer-service-in-a-small-town smile, Aiden grabs the door handle, then shows themthe way out. “I promise I’ll be quick, ladies. I just need a teeny second with the bride.”

Not my bride.Thebride.That hope rises a little higher.

Trina arches a brow. Ivy practically growls at him, then snaps her gaze back to me. “What were you going to say?”

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