So much for hope.
“Sorry!” Bridger calls out. “Just testing the battery!”
“I’m good,” I chirp. And I really want to be good. Butwhen my phone buzzes in my back pocket, my heart automatically braces for impact. I haven’t checked on my dad in hours.
But it’s not Dad news.
It’s Sayla.
Sayla
Just landed at AVL! Back from paradise to the mainland. Married life will be all downhill from here - lol!
Me
Shut up. You know you’re ecstatic to be Mrs. Michaels.
SAYLA
Dex keeps calling me wifey. It’s the worst.
ME
Liar. You love it.
SAYLA
Maybe a little.
See you at home?
Right. She doesn't know I already moved out. So I send her a string of kissy face emojis, which is a vague enough response. Not to mention true. But Bridger and I are officially on the clock now to beat the newlyweds back home and set up their surprise.
So we hastily lock up the apartment—myapartment—and speed across town to make quick work of the plan in my head.
Scatter rose petals across the house and into the bedroom, ending on the comforter in the shape of a heart.
Arrange tea-light candles in curated intervals following the same path.
Chill a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket on the dresser. (Theirdresser.)
Leave two monogrammed crystal flutes on the nightstand.