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When I get home, it’s already time to pack for my night away before the wedding. Marcie made the offer, since it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony. Naturally, I had to play along.
Truffles is sprawled in the suitcase Agnes picked up for me from the store, as if saying she doesn’t want me to leave again. Apparently, she wasn’t too happy that I left her for a few days to go to the UK. My favorite sweater suffered the consequences. Well, better that than Colton’s furniture. He would kill me.
“Come on, baby girl.” I pick her up before planting a kiss on her soft fur. “It’s only one night. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
And I’ll be married, I silently add, swallowing hard.
The doorbell rings, announcing Marcie’s arrival. Shoot! I’m late. I finish packing by throwing all my essentials in the suitcase, then rush out of my room after one last scratch behind Truffles’ ear.
I’ve almost reached the foyer when Colton comes in from the garage.
“You’re leaving already? Marcie’s here,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I thought we were having dinner together.”
My heart constricts in my chest. There’s nothing I’d rather do, but suddenly, I’m grateful for Marcie’s plan. Better not to spend any time with him before we tie the knot. I’ll just show up tomorrow, say “I do,” and everything will be fine. “Yeah, her parents invited me for dinner.”
“Oh, nice,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I need to tal—”
The doorbell rings again, and I glance toward the corridor.
I twist my lips to the side. “I have to go. She’s been here a while, and I can’t upset my maid of honor before the wedding,” I joke.
“Right.”
“See you tomorrow.” I wave, then hurry toward the door.
Marcie’s parents, Jo and Léon, are adorable. We spend the evening listening to stories from their first date and their wedding. Their sweet tales should leave me all warm and fuzzy, but the more they talk about how in love they were when they stood at the altar, the more my panic builds. I just want to go home and snuggle up with Truffles on the couch.
Instead, I keep scratching my neck, and it starts to burn.
“What’s that on your neck?” Marcie asks, frowning from where she’s sitting next to me on the couch. “Stop scratching,” she adds with a little squeak. “It’s a rash.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“It’s just stress, honey,” Jo says. “Don’t panic. I have some cream you can put on it. But Marcie’s right. You should stop scratching.”
Minutes later, she comes back with a tube of lotion. I rub a small dollop onto my neck and feel instant relief.
“It’s normal to get a little stressed out the night before your wedding,” Jules says. “But everything will be great. It’ll be the best day of your life.”
“Yeah, you’re marrying the love of your life,” Marcie chirps.
Jo squeezes my shoulder. “You’ll remember that day forever.”
With no warning, I start crying. I can’t hold the tears in, and I sob uncontrollably in Marcie’s arms as she pats my hair while everyone rushes to assure me it’s going to be okay.
“I can’t do it,” I say, drying my tears. “I just can’t.” I want this for us, but what if he doesn’t? I’ll have so much more to lose than money. I’d take bankruptcy over a broken heart any day.
“You guys are in love,” Marcie says with an encouraging smile. “Everyone can see it. And as my mom said, all you need for a perfect marriage is the love you have for each other. The rest is just filler.”
That’s the problem. All we have is filler, and only half of the love a marriage needs—my half. What if his feelings never change? What if when the contract ends, he still sees me as just a friend? “I can’t do it,” I repeat. Abort mission, abort!
“Wedding jitters are natural,” Léon says with a slight nod. “Everything will be forgotten tomorrow. When is your family arriving?”
I wring my hands until they turn white. “I don’t exactly have anyone.”
Marcie squeezes me harder. “Oh, sweetie. I didn’t know that.”
How could she? I’ve dodged the subject every time she tried to get to know me. I didn’t want to lie more than necessary, not to Marcie.
