JANE, PERCHED ON the velvet dressing-room couch, took in the sight of her sister in the fitted wedding dress. She looked perfect, and inexplicably tears welled up in Jane’s eyes. Suddenly, they were little girls and playing “wedding day” with white towels over their heads as veils, pretending to walk down the aisle by doing a herky-jerky march down the hallway.
Her little sister was getting married. The truth of it struck her deeper than it ever had before, and she blinked back the sentimental tears.
“What do you think?” Heather asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
Heather admired herself in the mirror for another moment, then turned to the saleslady. “Could you please leave for a few minutes? I need to talk to my sister privately.”
The same saleslady they’d encountered on Jane’s first visit to Here Comes the Bride flashed a thin smile and said something about calling if any more of her assistance was needed. When she was gone, Heather’s cheery expression disappeared.
“Janie, I’ve got big problems—”
Jane resisted the urge to scream. No more passing out bad advice to unsuspecting women, and no more playing All-Knowing Big Sister. She had to put her foot down now, before she did any more damage or drove herself crazy. “Stop right there. Whatever the big problem is, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But—”
“You think I’m such an expert, but the truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. You’re better off solving the issue yourself, without my advice, whatever it is.”
Heather stared at her, her mouth gaping open, her brow in a state of near creasing. “But, I’m thinking about not getting married.”
Jane tried not to roll her eyes at the news. Heather loved drama, and what could be more dramatic for a bride than prewedding jitters? She wasn’t buying it. Heather was clearly head over heels for Michael, and she’d been planning her own wedding ever since their childhood towel-wearing days.
“Everybody gets scared before their wedding. But like I said, I’m not handing out any more advice. If you’ve got issues, you need to talk to Michael about them, not me.”
Okay, so she was being a little coldhearted, but Heather would be better off for it. Jane didn’t have an ounce of proof that any of her advice had ever brought anyone lasting happiness.
Her sister gave her one last doubtful glance, but then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I guess you’re right.”
“How do the shoes look with the dress?” Jane asked, eager to distract Heather with her favorite subject.
She picked up the skirt of her dress to reveal a pair of strappy white satin heels. “Aren’t these the best? It’s a shame to hide them under a dress. I might wear them to the rehearsal dinner, too.”
Jane nodded her approval, but Heather was too busy admiring her feet in the mirror to notice.
After Jane tried on her altered bridesmaid dress to make sure it fit, they said their goodbyes, and she found herself driving home alone and wanting to be anything but. She’d driven the route from downtown to her house often enough that she went on autopilot and found herself thinking of Luke, until she took the highway exit closest to her neighborhood.
After a few blocks, she got a creepy feeling. Jane peered into the rearview mirror and frowned at the headlights that had been following her since the highway. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but it sure did seem like she was being followed. She tried to make out the car, but it was too dark. All she could see were headlights.
She traveled through her neighborhood with a growing sense of dread, and when she came to the turn onto her street, she hesitated. The car was still behind her.
No, she was just freaking out over nothing. She’d pull into her driveway and the car would keep going. It was probably just one of her neighbors wishing she’d quit driving so damn slow. She switched on her left turn signal at the last second and made the turn. The car behind her followed without signaling. That, Jane decided, was her cue to call Luke.
Her heart raced as she kept driving past her house and weaved back through the neighborhood toward the main road. She fumbled in her purse until she found her cell phone, then punched in Luke’s number with one hand while she steered with the other.
The car that had been following her made a right turn onto a side street, and she could see as it turned that it was actually a blue minivan. Probably a soccer mom on her way home from a late trip to the grocery store. Jane suddenly felt like a monumental idiot.
Luke answered after three rings, sounding like he’d been asleep.
“It’s Jane. I’m sorry, I thought I was being followed, but the car just disappeared. Temporary insanity, I guess.”