My fists don’t relax. They can’t. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel a cold sweat on the back of my neck. I rake my fingers through my hair and try to shake out the flight-or-fight instincts. In my mouth, I taste metal.
This isn’t over.
I’m only half paying attention for the rest of our time in the shop. Eventually, everyone picks out a suit that fits his style and looks at least mildly uniform. When it comes to payment, I put down my card. As we walk outside toward the truck, the groom and his groomsmen are discussing among themselves what to do next. I hang back a pace.
“We’ll hit up the Orchard,” his friend says. “I’ll buy. Whiskey all around.”
“Aw, heck, bad idea,” Ray chuckles. “Y’all know whiskey is my weakness. Once you start, you can’t stop. Isn’t that right, Braxo?” He nudges me playfully. Apparently, he thinks we’re friends again.
I draw my lips in a patient smile. “Sure.”
The boys all pile into Ray’s truck. I’m crammed into the back with two other guys. I zone out as they talk loudly, laugh even louder the whole way to the bar. If they’re this loud sober, I can’t imagine the noise level as soon as they get some liquor in them.
Ray pulls his car into a gravel lot, and the tires crunch. The boys hop out. I glance around—everyone is distracted, patting each other on the back as they compare the single bridesmaids.
Discreetly, I reach into my pocket. There, I find Ray’s wedding band. The one he plans to give to my sister on their wedding day.
I roll the window down and pluck the ring out of the box. With a flick of my wrist, I toss the ring through the window and into the bushes that line the side of the road. The expanse of green flora swallows the tiny thing whole.
“Braxo! You coming or what?”
“Be right there.” I shut the door hard behind me and follow the boys inside.
Yeah. Try to marry my sister without that.
Good luck, Ray-O.
20
Susie
There’s a party going down tonight. And it’s happening at Two Roads Tavern.
I don’t know what I expected—maybe a creaky-looking bar with a couple of old coal miners sitting around it, drinking “lite” beer? Yeah, that exactly, actually. Instead, by time the bridal party reaches the tavern, we can already hear the live music pouring out the doors.
Cora—with the firm encouragement from her double-C sisters—picked out bridal colors. Coral pink and white. I managed to pull a white top and a pink skirt out of my closet and—yes—I look like a cheerleader, but this is fun. Maybe I’m not an official member of the wedding party, maybe I’m supposed to technically be working, but I’m buzzing with excitement all the same when all six of us flood the tavern.
The live music blasts from some wild country rock band, and the place is packed with denim and cowboy boots.
“We stand out like a sore thumb!” Lena calls out over the music.
“Who cares?” Candace calls back. “We’re peacocking!”
She’s not wrong. It does feel good to be part of a flock. Cora dives at the bar and shoves a plastic card at the bartender. “Get a tab going,” she tells him. “We’re starting with shots!”
A round of six neon blue shots slide over the bar on a tray. The bridesmaids all crowd around and take up far too much space in the bustling bar.
Cora shoves a shot in my hand.
“Oh…no.” I lift my hands. “I’m technically on the clock, I really shouldn’t—”
“Yes, you really should!” Cora says. “I’m the bride and I get to make the rules, right? So. Bottom’s up.”
She hands the shot to me, and I take it. Well. Can’t say no to the bride, can I?
“To Cora and Ray!” Cynthia lifts her shot.
“And to my last night of bachelorette-dom!”
We all let out whoops and cheers and knock our shots back. It tastes sickly sweet, and I cough lightly as I set my dry glass down.
Cora makes a face like she ate a lemon and shakes her head. “Whew!” She hands over her shot glass, which is still nearly full to the brim. “That’s not my drink. Here, do you want it?”
“Anything for the bride-to-be.” I knock it back. By the second shot, I’m starting to feel floaty on my feet. I settle down with a punch cocktail and fall in a rhythm with the girls. I talk to Candace for a bit, who, it turns out, has a lot to say about Gwen Stefani and Blake Shelton. I’m only half listening to her, half swaying to the beat of the music. I try to keep an eye on Cora. She cheers on the band and spins wildly on the dance floor. I can’t help but grin.
Let her have her fun. These next few days are going to be hectic as it is.
Somehow, my glass is empty again. I take a break from dancing and head over to the bar. The bartender is busy, so I lean against the bar table and drop my purse in front of me. I dig my phone out and flick through it.
I have a confirmation email from Simply Sweet, an updated email thread between Thom and the landscapers, and a couple of missed calls from Ace. The words blur in my vision, and I have trouble concentrating, so I click away.
One missed text. 917—A New York number. I click on it.
[txt: Braxton] It’s Braxton. Where are you?
I can’t stop the grin that crawls across my face. I debate whether or not I should answer, but he’s already seen that I’ve read it, so I have no choice now, right? That’s the excuse I tell myself, anyway. My fingers fly over the screen.
[txt: Susie] Two Roads Tavern.
[txt: Susie] Bridesmaids are in full swing.
[txt: Susie] We’re having fun. You’d hate it.
I don’t want to be the girl who waits by the phone, so I click away from messages. I scroll back through my emails without reading anything, and then click back on my messages, far too eager and impatient. My heart leaps when I see Braxton typing back.
[txt: Braxton] Because I hate everything?
I snort a laugh at that.
[txt: Susie] Yes.
There’s a longer pause between texts now. The bubble pops up that tells me that Braxton is typing, but it takes him a few extra seconds to actually send the text.
[txt: Braxton] I don’t hate you.
[txt: Susie] Aw.
[txt: Susie] That’s practically a proposal coming from you.
[txt: Braxton] I think I’ve had enough of weddings for a lifetime.
I bite my lip. I’m feeling bold, silly, and drunk. My mind drifts to memories of Braxton. Braxton’s strong hands on my hips. Braxton’s lips gracing my throat. Braxton. I know I should put down the phone, but instead, my thumbs betray me and type out another text.
[txt: Susie] Send a picture of your junk.
[txt: Susie] ;)
[txt: Braxton] Or I can come give you the real thing.
It takes a lot to embarrass me, but I feel my face go completely red at that. I stare at the text, debating how to answer. I want him. That’s the easy answer. But I know better than to get involved with the best man…at least, I should know better…
“Another Dirty Murty,” Mandy calls out to the bartender beside me.
I quickly roll my phone over onto its face so she can’t read my texts and then shove my phone into my purse.