“Your dress, Peyton. It was still inside.”
She blinked. “Oh.” Then, she deflated. “Well, I guess I’ll find another one.”
“In less than two weeks?” I asked skeptically. “And where are we going to have the wedding? It was supposed to be in the barn.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Peyton asked. She was wide-eyed, and her crazy curls were up in a slightly relaxed ballet bun. But she still looked frazzled. Just as frazzled as the rest of us. “You were inside a burning building, Piper. I care about you and Dad and Hollin.”
Hollin smiled at her. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“I know. I know,” I said, tears coming on strong again.
“We’ll figure it out,” Peyton said. She pulled me into another hug. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Honestly, mija, the wedding is going to be wonderful, no matter where it’s held,” Mom said. “No matter what our beautiful ballerina is wearing. It will be perfect because it is the joining of two people, who were made for each other, in front of their families. It is not about the place or the dress. Just the family and love.”
I nodded, swiping at my tears. “You’re right. But what are we going to do?”
“You can have it at Wright Vineyard,” Hollin piped up automatically.
My entire family looked at him with dropped jaws.
“Really?” Peter asked.
“Are you sure?” Peyton asked.
“Oh, but that’s so sweet,” my mom said, melting at his words.
“We can’t…I don’t know if we could afford it,” I blurted out.
Hollin gave me the dreamiest smile and took my hand. “I wouldn’t expect you to pay for it.”
“Oh, Hollin, that’s…wow,” Peyton said. She stifled her own sob. Tears came to her big brown eyes. And then she hugged my boyfriend. “I don’t know how Piper got this lucky.”
He laughed and tapped Peyton’s back. “We don’t have any events that weekend. You’re already working with Nora. It shouldn’t be too hard to move everything across town.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Of course.”
“I’ll get on the phone with Nora,” Peyton said, going into planning mode. “See what she thinks and if she needs me to do anything.”
Peyton took out her phone and walked away from the group. My mom and brother went to talk to my dad. Chase Sinclair had arrived at some point, and he was in deep conversation with him. Right, a lawyer—probably a good idea. I was too shell-shocked to have even gotten to that point of processing.
I turned back to Hollin. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Hey, it’s not a problem. I know that you wanted it here. I get how much it means to you, but if I can help, I will.”
I stood on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “How did I get this lucky?”
He snorted. “I’m the lucky one. Who else would get a girlfriend stubborn enough to walk through a burning building for a wedding dress?”
I covered my face and laughed. “Oh my God, I’ll never live it down. What was I thinking?”
“You love your sister. You were concerned about her wedding.”
“Yeah. True.”
He passed me the water bottle that the paramedics had given us when they arrived with the firefighters. “Drink some more water. Your voice is all scratchy.”
I took the water from him and downed half of it. We sat in the grass until all was said and done. The longer the adrenaline wore off, the worse I felt. Not that I was sick or anything, but I felt like I’d been hit by a bus.
“Come on,” Hollin said, offering me a hand. “Let’s get you home.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. The last thing I wanted was to go home and have to talk about this more with Blaire and Jennifer. I’d texted my friends to tell them what had happened. But I didn’t feel ready to discuss it. “Can we…go to your place instead?”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you want. I thought you’d want your own bed.”
“I just…want to be alone.”
“I’ll be there,” he reminded me.
“Alone together.”
He nodded, as if understanding. He’d carried me out of a burning building. I wouldn’t have to say a word to him about it. So, I followed him to our cars. My hands were shaky, but I shook off Hollin’s concern about me driving myself. I parked out on the driveway before dropping onto the ground below and walking in through the front door.
“Shower,” Hollin said, gently pushing me toward his bedroom.
“What? Why? I was thinking alcohol and nap.”
He laughed. “Have you smelled your shirt lately? Your hair?”
I brought the front of my shirt to my nose and immediately started coughing. “Oh Jesus. Smoke.”
“Yeah. So, shower.”
“Does my hair smell like it too?”
He shot me a look. He knew how sensitive I was about my hair. It took forever to clean and doubly forever to dry. I hated washing it and hated blowing it out. But letting it air dry was worse. It meant it would be five times the size I wanted it to be with frizz for days. Who knew if or when I’d get all the smoke smell out of it?