I whirled on Corey, wiping spittle from my lips. “You. You’re the reason we’re here at all.”
“Um. What?”
“You moved back to Tucson, and then months later, Vince proposes. This whole thing is your fault.”
“Huh,” Corey said. “I never thought about it that way. I’ll accept it. I feel good about myself. You’re welcome.”
It took all I had not to reach out and strangle him.
We were at the horse farm (and why, why did I agree to ever allow my wedding to happen at a goddamn h
orse farm?), the ceremony less than twenty minutes away. I was already in my suit, which was gray, with a white button-up dress shirt. The tie was violet, with a matching pocket square. Vince’s suit was supposed to match, except apparently he’d chosen to go with a bow tie, which I cursed him for, because Vince Taylor wearing a bow tie was my greatest weakness. And he knew that, the asshole.
Corey and Sandy were dressed similarly. They didn’t have suit jackets, but instead wore gray-and-black checkered vests over white dress shirts, the buttons opened at the collar, and gray slacks. They looked cool and calm and collected, and I was sweating and sure I was about to hyperventilate my way into a heart attack.
“We should run,” I decided. “Just make a break for it. We still have those costumes the time we went to spy on Darren and his not-date, right? I can live the rest of my life in the Ozarks as Agnes Beaverton. I have no problem with that.”
“We’re not running,” Sandy said, approaching me cautiously. “You don’t really want to do that.”
“Of course I don’t,” I scoffed. “Why would you even say something like that?”
Corey cocked his head at me. “But you just said—oh yeah, that look you’re giving me is terrifying. I agree with whatever you say because you’re right about everything.”
“Damn right I am,” I muttered as Sandy started fiddling with the cufflinks, snapping one into place and then the other. “Maybe I should just see Vince before. You know? Just for a minute.”
“You’ll see him soon enough,” Sandy said.
And I heard everything he wasn’t saying. “He’s already gone, isn’t he?”
“What.”
“Did he run?” I wheezed. “Did he do that terrible impression he does of Julia Roberts and flee from this place?”
“What the fuck,” Corey said faintly.
“Paul,” Sandy said firmly. “I will slap the shit out of you if you need me to.”
“He’s probably halfway across the state by now, already changing his name and—”
Sandy slapped me.
I gaped at him, bringing my hand to my cheek. “What the hell is wrong with you!”
“You act like a bitch, I’m gonna treat you like my bitch,” he growled.
“Whoa,” Corey said. “Why do you guys always give me weird boners?”
“Now you listen here,” Sandy said, shoulders set, jaw tense. “Vince isn’t going anywhere except to stand in front of our friends and family to tell everyone how much he loves you. You’re not going anywhere but to do the same. Except your vows are going to be a little more awkward because of the winging-it thing you’re doing that I can’t wait to hear because it’s going to be hilariously awkward. But that man loves you. You love him. That’s the only thing that matters. I guarantee you that he’s not freaking out over there—”
Darren burst in through the door to the dressing room we stood in, phone to his ear. He looked handsome in his suit, the sleeves of his dress shirt looking like they were ready to burst due to his bulk. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on me. “He’s standing right here,” he said into the phone, sounding annoyed. “I told you he wasn’t going to leave. You really need to calm—don’t yell at me, Vince, or I’m going to come back there and kick your ass.” Darren covered up the phone with a hand. “Vince is freaking out.” Then he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Well,” Sandy said. “Obviously you two deserve each other. That’s just sickening.”
“This might be the most adorable moment of my life,” Corey said. “And that makes me really sad.”
There was a knock at the door before it opened again. In came Mom and Dad and Nana, all of them smiling widely. Mom’s smile faltered a little bit when she saw me wringing my hands viciously, probably looking like I was on the verge of a panic attack. She pushed past my father and rushed over to me.
“Hey,” she said warmly, reaching up to cup my face. Her hands were cool against my heated skin. “You okay? You look… not well.”