“She is just that good,” Tucker put in, kissing Carol on the cheek. For the first time witnessing their intimacy didn’t make Abby physically ill. Tucker wasn’t kissing anyone else on the side! Whoo-hoo!
“So . . . what are you two going to do?” Abby said, glancing at their clutched hands. “You obviously didn’t break up.”
“Oh, no,” Tucker said. “We’re still engaged. It’s just gonna be a long engagement. We’re going to get married after we’ve had some time to figure some more stuff out. Like where we both want to live and what we both want to do. We’re not in the right places in our lives yet, but we will be.”
“Look! We even got these tattoos on our ring fingers as a sign of our commitment,” Carol said.
Carol held up her hand and Abby pulled it toward her. Written in brown ink around her sister’s ring finger was the name Tucker in script. Abby grabbed Tucker’s hand and saw her sister’s name etched onto his skin as well.
“Wow. Cool,” Abby said. Carol and Tucker shared a quick kiss.
Abby looked at her sister—at the peaceful, happy glow on her face—and sighed. This was what her sister really wanted.
“I’m happy for you guys,” Abby said.
“Good,” Carol replied. “I’m happy for us, too.”
“Well, I’m gonna go call my family at the hotel and tell them what’s going on,” Tucker said, knocking his fists together. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” Abby and Carol said in unison. With another quick kiss Tucker was gone, leaving Abby and Carol in the middle of the ballroom.
“Okay,” Abby said, slapping her palms down on her thighs. “So what do we do about the fact that Mom and Dad are going to murder you?”
Carol bit her lip. “They are, aren’t they? They’re totally going to lose it.”
“Uh . . . yeah,” Abby said.
“And look what an awesome job they did,” Carol said. “It’s exactly like what they both wanted.”
Abby looked up and felt something stir inside her chest. She trailed her gaze over the streaming ribbons, the white roses, the gemstone glasses and the strewn white petals. Carol couldn’t have been more right. This was exactly the wedding her parents had always wanted. The English garden wedding her mother had never had for herself. The mod candy store wedding her father had never had for himself. All rolled into one. Becky had pulled off both her parents’ dream weddings at once. And it was gorgeous.
“Well, I guess I’ll go get this over with,” Carol said.
“Wait!” Abby said, standing. She grabbed her sister’s wrist, her heart pounding. “I have a better idea.”
• 15 •
Cold Feet
“Okay, we don’t have much time,” Abby said as she, Tucker and Carol ran for the van. “We gotta get you guys back here and dressed before the photographer comes.”
“I still can’t believe you’re going to Italy,” Carol said. She shook her head back and forth in disbelief, like she’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes. “I can’t believe you haven’t even told Mom and Dad.”
“Carol, can we focus here?” Abby said. “Wedding first, Italy later.”
“Maybe we should split up,” Tucker suggested. “I can go to one place and you guys can go to the other. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”
Just then, Delila’s Mustang pulled into the driveway and rolled to a stop right next to Abby. And sitting right there in the passenger seat was Christopher Marshall. These were two people who had never been alone together in their lives. Abby was totally shocked.
“What are you guys doing here?” Abby looked directly at Delila. “Together?”
“I came over to apologize,” Delila told Abby, getting out of the car. “I’m really sorry about the mall. It was totally unfair of me.”
“Okay,” Abby said. “Thanks. But that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Together.”
Christopher cleared his throat and looked away and Delila flushed. Abby choked on the air in her throat as the realization suddenly hit her like a soccer ball to the head. They weren’t just here together. They were together together.
“I don’t believe it!” Abby said. Her face broke out into a seriously amused grin.
Abby now understood exactly why Delila was always asking Abby if she and Christopher were more than friends. And she understood why she had freaked out at the mall—she had been faced with the idea of Christopher and Abby going on a date to the Revolution game—faced with the possibility that Christopher and Abby were finally getting together. Suddenly everything made sense.
Except for the fact that they had always hated each other . . . hadn’t they?
“When did this happen?” Abby asked.
Christopher cleared his throat again. “Well, last night we—”
“Um, you guys? I hate to interrupt whatever’s going on here, but we’re kind of in a totally serious hurry,” Carol said, stepping up behind Abby.
Abby looked at her friends and nodded. She really, really wanted to hear the story of how and when and why this had all started, but Carol was right. They had to go.
“What’s going on?” Christopher asked.
“A lot,” Abby replied.
“Oh yeah?” Delila said, raising her eyebrows, intrigued. “Is there anything we can do?”
Abby glanced at Tucker and Carol, who were still hovering by the van, clearly losing patience. She checked her watch. If this wedding was going to happen, Carol and Tucker had to get their butts into their bride-and-groom gear and start acting like a bride and groom. Abby grinned at her friends.
“Yeah,” she said. “Actually there is.”
It was a Saturday afternoon and Monique’s was bustling with customers, but Abby had no time to lose. She saw the pinched-faced woman who had “helped” her with her dress and wound through the store to catch up with her, Delila trailing behind.
“Excuse me,” she said as the woman almost walked past her. “Do you remember me?”
The woman’s eyes flicked over Abby and she kept moving. “Sorry, no.”
“Hello? Rude much?” Delila said.
Normally Abby would have retreated at this point, giving in to her lifelong habit of avoiding confrontation, but not today. This was too important. This was for her parents. And there was no time to mess around.
“Hey! Annabelle!” she shouted, grabbing the attention of several customers and a few clerks as well. The woman huffed and turned on her heel to look at Abby. “I think you do remember me. You were totally rude to me and my sister a couple of weeks ago when we were in here looking at blue dresses?”
Annabelle’s eyes slid toward a haughty-looking woman behind the counter—undoubtedly her manager. The lady shot Annabelle a sour look and Annabelle wisely took a couple of steps toward Abby.
“Is that really necessary?” she whispered.
“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Delila said.
“Look, I need the same dress I bought that day, but a size smaller. A six,” Abby said. “Do you have one?”
Annabelle sighed and smiled a tight smile for her manager’s benefit. “It was the violet blue one, correct?”
“You do remember me!” Abby said with false brightness.
“I’ll have to check,” Annabelle said, rolling her eyes. “Wait here.”
Annabelle turned and hurried away and Delila laughed, tipping her head back.
“Wow!” she said, reaching out to touch Abby’s forehead. “Abby? Is that you? Are you feeling okay?”
“Forget that,” Abby said, batting her hand away. “What about you? I mean, Christopher?”
Delila turned so red she matched her bright red T-shirt. She moved into the corner, away from the crowds, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You’re going to check me into a mental hospital, aren’t you?”
“Seriously, Delila, I thought you hated him.”
“Sheesh, Ab, don’t you know me at all?” Delila said. “I’m always evil to the g
uys I like. Remember Timothy Desrai?”
Abby raised her eyebrows at the memory. Back in ninth grade, Delila had shown her affection for Timothy by announcing to the entire lunchroom that he had a Cabbage Patch Kid collection in his bedroom closet. She had never been invited to Timothy’s house again and ever since, the entire school population had been calling the poor guy CPK.
“You do have kind of a self-destructive streak when it comes to men,” Abby said.
“Tell me about it,” Delila said, rolling her eyes. “But over the past couple of days Christopher and I have had a couple of real conversations. It started with us talking about you, about how stressed you were about the wedding and how we wished we could help you. But then, last night we actually flirted for a good fifteen minutes outside Häagen-Dazs. We didn’t insult each other once.”
“You’re kidding me,” Abby said.
“I know!” Delila replied. “And then he asked me to go to the wedding with him.”
“Wow,” Abby said. “If it were possible for a person’s head to explode from shockedness, that’s what my head would be doing right now. Exploding.”
“So, think you can handle your two best friends dating?” Delila asked.
“I handled you fighting all the time.” Abby gave Delila a giant smile. “This has got to be better, right?”
“Thanks, Ab,” Delila said, grabbing her up in a quick hug. “You’re the best.”
“I know.”
Annabelle emerged from the stockroom carrying a violet blue dress in a clear garment bag. She carried it over to Abby and held it up for her, glancing toward her manager.
“Is this the one?” she said.
“Yes, thank you,” Abby said, taking the hanger. She glanced at Delila and suddenly got an idea. “Actually, do you have another one in a size two?”
“Oh, no!” Delila said, backing away.
“Well, technically, you did keep a humongous secret from me for months and made my life a living hell forcing me to try and mediate between you two,” Abby said. She tilted her head and grinned mischievously. “Did you really think I’d let you get away without punishment?”
“Abby!” Delila exclaimed, her eyes wide and pleading. “I do not do dresses!”
“You do now, Soccerboy-lover,” Abby said with a grin.
“This is so great! I feel like we’re in Charlie’s Angels!” Delila said as she pulled her car back into the Dove’s Roost driveway.
“I thought you hated Charlie’s Angels,” Abby said, gripping the top of her door as the wheels tore up the pavement.
“Oh . . . yeah . . . I do,” Delila replied. “It just gives me an excuse to drive like a maniac.”
“I still can’t believe you’re with Christopher!” Abby said. “You’re such a little vixen!”
“Shut up!” Delila said.
“Delila and Christopher sitting in a tree,” Abby sang.
“Shhhhh!” Delila said, spotting Christopher up ahead. She smacked Abby’s leg repeatedly until Abby shut up.
Abby smiled. She was so glad to have Delila back. On today of all days, she definitely needed her best friends around. She and Delila pulled up to the top of the drive in time to see Christopher hauling a huge bag out of the back of Abby’s van.
“You got it?” Abby called out as Delila slammed on the brakes.
“I think so,” Christopher said. He held the bag out across both arms and kicked the back door closed. “I hope it’s the right one. I think the woman there thinks I’m wacko.”
“Why’s that?” Delila asked, pulling the two garment bags out of the back of her car.
“A guy like me asking about a wedding dress?”
Abby laughed and they headed for the house. “You guys are the best,” she said. “I think we may actually pull this off.”
Abby’s mother was standing around the side of the house. “Bring the dresses up to Carol’s room,” Abby shouted. “Quick!”
Christopher and Delila disappeared inside just as Abby’s mother turned around. “Abigail Lynn Beaumont! Where on earth have you been?” she cried, jogging over in her heels. “The photographer’s here and you’re not even dressed!”
“I know, Mom. Sorry,” Abby said. “I’ll go upstairs right now.”
“You bet your butt you will,” her mother said, shooing her. “Go!”
Abby ran up to her room, laughing all the way. She quickly put on her bridesmaid’s dress. Delila helped her fix her hair and put on the bare minimum amount of makeup. She checked herself out in the mirror and grinned.
“You ready for this?” Delila asked.
“So ready,” Abby said. “Wish me luck.”
“Always,” Delila said with a wink.
Abby headed downstairs and out to the yard to join in the picture taking. Tessa and Missy were there in their iridescent plaid. Abby’s father, Tucker, Andrew and their dad were all done up in their tuxes, looking very James Bond.
But Carol was the real vision. She looked beautiful. She wore the straight sheath dress she’d loved so much at her fitting with the asymmetrical lace pattern on the skirt. White gloves covered her hands and arms up to her elbows and a veil hung from the top of her bun down her back. Her eyes lit up when Abby walked out and Abby smiled. Her sister was a bride. Well, sort of.
“You look amazing,” Abby told her as she joined her in front of the cameras. Carol lifted her bouquet to the side and kissed Abby’s cheek as the flashes popped.
“Did you get everything?” Carol whispered.
“We’re all set,” Abby whispered back.
Together they turned and smiled for the camera, relishing the we-know-something-you-don’t-know moment. All around them their parents, aunts and uncles hovered, oohing and ahhing. This was definitely going to be a wedding to remember.
“Okay, take a deep breath,” Abby told Carol. It was T minus thirty minutes to wedding time. They were standing together in the bridal suite at the Dove’s Roost, a frilly, flowery room lined with couches. Carol had wisely sent Missy and Tessa off under the pretense that they needed to make sure the aisle runner was straight so that she and Abby would have a chance to do what they needed to do.
“Okay,” Carol said. “I’m good.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”
She opened the door to the bridal suite and looked both ways. Her mother was at one end of the hall, chatting with Liam. Her dad was at the other end going over some things with the justice of the peace. It was time.
“Mom, Dad?” Abby said, practically shaking. “Carol wants to see you guys before she walks down the aisle.”
She watched her parents exchange a tentative glance, then they both walked toward her. When the whole family was finally in the same room together, door closed, Abby suddenly started having doubts. The tension in the air was palpable. This room had seen many a last-minute bridal freak-out, many a family squabble, many a total meltdown. It seemed primed for one more. How had they ever thought this was actually going to work?
Her parents were never going to go for it. They were going to explode and make an even bigger scene than they had made at the shower. This had to be the dumbest idea ever.
“Sweetie, you look so beautiful,” Abby’s mother said, kissing Carol on the cheek.
“Gorgeous,” her father added. He checked his watch. “It’s almost time to go. What did you want to talk to us about?”
Standing behind her parents, Abby gestured at her sister. This was not right. Abort mission! she thought. Abort mission!
Carol saw her and shook her head ever so slightly. Somehow, the girl was calm as the bay before a storm. She took a deep breath and looked at her parents. Abby wanted to close her eyes, but somehow she could not make herself do it.
“Mom . . . Dad,” Carol said firmly. “I’m not getting married today.”
Abby inhaled deeply and then, knowing that there was no going back, that her parents were about to flip out anyway, Abby took her chance, and blurted out the words that
had been jamming up her throat for weeks.
“And I got a full scholarship to study in Italy next year,” she said. “I’m going to Italy!”
• 16 •
Sacred Vows
“What on earth do you mean, you’re not getting married!” Abby’s mother screeched.
“Italy! Who says you’re going to Italy?” her father shouted, red in the face.
“Dad, just let me explain,” Abby said. She was glad that her parents had two pieces of news to deal with and weren’t ganging up on her together. “Remember, like, months ago I told you about that exchange program Delila was doing and you said you didn’t have the money to send me?”
“Yes, I recall,” her father said. Carol and her mom were talking too, but Abby had to tune them out to pay attention to her father. “Did you win the lottery since then?”
“No. But I did find out that they have scholarships for this thing. And that Roberto Viola, only the most amazing soccer player in history, is going to be coaching there,” Abby said. “So I applied just to see what would happen and I got in! With a full scholarship.”
“So you’ve already applied and gotten funding. I’m sorry, when, exactly, were you planning on telling your mother and me about your plans to spend a year in a foreign country? Were you going to write us a postcard once you already got there?”
“Well, you guys haven’t exactly been the easiest people to talk to lately,” Abby shot back, her defense mechanism kicking in.
“Just because your mother and I are having problems, that’s no excuse for you to keep secrets from us,” her father said. “Especially not ones as big as this!”
“It’s not like I don’t already feel guilty about this!” Abby replied. “It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you— you’ve just been too preoccupied tearing each other apart!”
Her father’s face fell and Abby felt a pang in her heart. Had she said too much? Gone too far? Either way, the break in their argument left only one voice in the room—her mother’s.
“But all those people . . . ,” Abby’s mother was saying. Her mother sat down on the divan, her face pale and her hands shaky. She reached out to grasp Abby’s hand. “What’re we going to tell all those people?”
The Bridesmaid Page 18
