Hope’s shoulders sagged. “Things don’t look good. There’s a nor’easter blowing up the coast, and flights into Boston are grounded.”
Sally frowned sadly. “If she can’t make it, no doubt she’ll be here with us in spirit.”
“In spirit.” Ava nodded, staring misty-eyed at Hope, then at Brent. “Yes, yes. That’s true.”
“Is there any way to delay the wedding?” Parker asked. “Hold off for just a couple hours to buy Hope more time?”
The women communally shook their heads. “I’m sorry, dear,” Margaret told her son, “but Jackie’s already checked with Eleanor. Rescheduling the event at this late date is impossible.”
“That seems a shame,” William said, and Sofia rubbed his arm in solidarity.
“Then let’s all send good vibes Hope’s way,” Derrick said, regaining the floor. He raised his tumbler high. “Here’s to Hope. To her health and speedy travels. And if she can’t make it by tomorrow, here’s hoping she’ll be able to join us at our next happy occasion.”
“To Hope,” everyone cheered, clinking glasses all around.
Hope barely managed, her voice rasping hoarsely past the lump in her throat. “To Hope.”
As appetizers were served, Brent took her hand under the table. “Don’t worry, baby. Everything will turn out all right.”
“That’s a Beach Boys song,” she bantered, trying to keep things light, although her heart thumped wildly and she simultaneously felt sick to her stomach. Suddenly, the chicken parmigiana didn’t sound so appealing anymore.
“Maybe it should be our song, hmm?” His dark eyes glimmered, and heat crept up her neck, fanning across her face. “We don’t have one, you know. It’s not too late.” His lips tipped up at the corners, and she couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it felt to kiss them. And what a despicable thing she’d done. Kissing her sister’s husband. She was determined not to let it happen again. Even if tomorrow was her fake wedding day.
“We can ask the DJ to play it at the reception,” Brent persisted. “Maybe even for our first dance?”
“Isn’t that song supposed to be special between the bride and groom?”
He traced her mouth with his thumb and whispered huskily, “Why can’t we make it ours now?”
Hope’s pulse raced. “I…can’t think of any reason not to.”
“Great.” He squeezed her hand and turned to the group, proudly announcing their plan. “Attention, please. I’m very proud and happy to announce that Jackie and I have selected our couple’s song. ‘Don’t Worry Baby’ by the Beach Boys.”
“Aww, how sweet,” Meredith exclaimed.
“An oldie but a goodie,” Derrick joined in, and everyone agreed.
“No one should be worried on their wedding day,” Sally said, hoisting her wineglass.
“That’s true,” Margaret said.
“Smooth sailing from tomorrow on out,” Parker promised with a fatherly gleam in his eye, and Hope wanted to vomit. She was such a horrible person, duping them all. She flagged down a waiter and asked him to bring her some sparkling water, which arrived right before their meals did. Thank goodness. She took several soothing bubbly sips.
After everyone was served, Meredith clinked the side of her water glass with her spoon. “Before we begin,” she said, standing, “I wanted to thank everyone here for your hospitality. While I know the real toasting and roasting”—she winked at Hope, and the group tittered— “will take place tomorrow during the reception, I wanted to use this occasion to say how happy I am to see my best friend on earth becoming a part of such a wonderful family.” She smiled admiringly at them all while pointedly avoiding Derrick’s spot at the table.
Several people said aww, and Elsa dabbed the corner of her eye with a napkin.
“So, here’s to an amazing wedding tomorrow. And to two people who were meant to be together.” Meredith lifted her wineglass high. “To a long and happy marriage for both of you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hope awoke to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, and she smelled coffee brewing. Meredith and her mom were up making breakfast: her wedding-day breakfast. Yikes. Hope lunged for the phone on her nightstand, praying for an eleventh-hour reprieve. Maybe she’d heard from Jackie that she was on her way. Maybe everything would be all right after all. But, when Hope reviewed her messages, she saw the most recent one from Jackie had come in at two a.m. She’d heard her phone ding and read the text blurry-eyed. Something about the email being sent.
She flipped to her email app, opening the early-morning missive from her sister. It explained in detail how they’d meet up at the Boston airport outside gate security. They’d do a brief wardrobe exchange in the ladies’ room, and then Jackie would go off on her honeymoon with Brent, as expected, and Hope could go on home. Her heart sank when she realized they might actually pull this off and that her sister would stand to benefit from the progress she’d made in Blue Hill, including with amazing Brent.
Then a stunning thought occurred to Hope. What if Brent hadn’t been able to tell that she wasn’t Jackie because he hadn’t known Jackie well enough—but that he could sense it when the “Jackie” he’d be reunited with in Boston seems so different from the one he’d gotten to know? Know and love, Hope couldn’t help think with a whimper.
“Good morning, Dancing Queen,” Meredith said, waltzing into the bedroom with a coffee mug. Hope sat up in bed, turning her phone facedown on the duvet.
“Thank you.” She forced a smile. “Coffee’s just what I need.” Plus a double-shot of confidence. And maybe a sanity check. She took a sip of coffee, her nerves on edge.
“I know you’re upset,” Meredith said kindly. “All of us are.”
“I’ve never been in such a bind. But the Albrights…” Her voice wavered, and Meredith sat on the edge of her bed, taking her hand.
“They’re pretty special, I know.”
Hope’s eyes burned hot. “Especially Brent.”
“You’ve really come to care for him.” Meredith smiled. “More than care. Right?” She handed hope a napkin, and Hope wiped her damp cheeks.
“He doesn’t deserve either of us, you know?”
“Maybe not—but Hope?”
“Huh?”
“I do understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.”