It’s me.
Itossed and turned.
I kept looping on Sayla’s not-so-subtle reminders that Bridger and I are just friends, and that things could get messy if I let the lines blur into something more. Not to mention Dexter’s cheeky goading and his sly winks, which pushed Bridger and me directly into something moreterritory.
Then there was Bridger, the most sleep-defying of them all, renting us that mansion, buying me an entire wedding wardrobe, then fully supporting my dad moving to Havenwood. And somehow, he managed to do these things whileensuring I was cared for in every way. Iamcared for. Food. Housing. Clothes. Finances. Transportation. Safety.
All of it.
Also, for the record, the man really knows what to do with his lips.
So yes, I spent the night overthinking what was going through his head. Recalling each quiet look. Analyzing the rake of his hands through his messy hair. Remembering each steady touch of myjust-friendBridger Adams. The man I’m about to marry. So how on earth is a woman supposed to sleep under those conditions?
She isn’t.
I didn’t.
Which is why I felt a bit like a walking zombie this morning, doing my own hair and makeup. I can’t believe I actually managed to look kind of pretty. Then again, the wedding gown Bridger bought for me is doing the bulk of the hard work.
The fabric feels like satin mixed with thousands of white butterfly wings. There’s no beading, lace, or bling. Just a simple silhouette, a clean neckline at the bodice, and a row of pearls down the back for fastening.
I love it so much.
My new veil is beautiful too. The gossamer material is so light and sheer, I’m pretty sure sunshine could pass straight through it. While I wait for the chauffeur to load my luggage into the back of the limo, I’m surprised I don’t float away on the breeze. Instead, he bundles me in, and I settle in across from Dex and Sayla.
The best man and matron of honor.
Dex is wearing the same black suit he sported for their rehearsal dinner, and Sayla’s in the pink dress I got for their wedding. The hem is an inch too long, and there’s a slight gapin herheart area, but we didn’t have a lot of options for bridesmaids’ dresses in under twenty-four hours. After all, Dex didn’t go buy her a last-minute gown from He Wed She Wed.
You know who does stuff like that?
My future husband. The one I’m about to meet at city hall so we can get married.
While Dex talks to our driver through the dividing window, Sayla offers me a beverage from the fully stocked bar, like she’s a flight attendant and I’m a first-class passenger.
“Mimosa?"
I puff out a laugh. “It’s a little early for me. And anyway, I met my monthly champagne quota last night.”
“Something else, then? Diet Coke? Dr Pepper? Water?”
“I think I’m good, thanks.” I smooth my hands down my skirt. “Well, as good as I can be under the circumstances. And anyway, I’d probably just spill on my new dress.”
Dex turns his attention back to us. “There are Oreo cookie packets in there, too.” He digs in a wicker basket and pulls out a packet.
“Thanks, but I already ate.” I wave the packet away, and he drops it back into the basket. “Besides. I get the feeling my future mother-in-law wouldn’t approve of Oreo crumbs in my teeth.”
Sayla presses out a chuckle, and Dex reaches for her hand. Then she flashes me a half smile, and he averts his gaze. The three of us spend a full minute in silence, with Sayla squeezing Dex’s hand, and Dex not making eye contact.
My friends are probably worried about me. Maybe even a little nervous, and I get that. What Bridger and I are planning to do today is surreal. For all of us. And Sayla and Dex are our witnesses. Still, after another minute of nobody speaking, I start to think something might be up. They’re awfully quiet. Too quiet, especially for Dex.
“You’re being kind of … weird,” I say.
Sayla laughs. “Dex isalwaysweird.”
“My wife isn’t wrong,” he says.
“Everything will be fine,” she chirps. “Really.”