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He waits as I climb into my car then waves as I pull away from the curb.
The emotional fallout hits within seconds. My shoulders shake with sobs and my vision turns blurry. I pull into a parking lot because I’m afraid I might crash into something. For so long, I’ve been alone with my worry over Nana, and now I’m no longer alone. The mental weight of my financial situation lifts. I’m not going to the modern equivalent of debtors’ prison.
My future holds hope for the first time in ages. As long as I don’t let myself think of what I’m giving up in exchange for Spencer’s support. I focus on my gratitude for what he’s doing for me and Nana. Everything will be okay and that is a miracle.
When my sobs wind down to hiccupy tears, the clock on my dash reads 11:11. I think of my mom, who believed in the magic of a wish.
“I wish to be happy in my marriage.” I whisper it again and again.
I’m marrying Spencer Eccleston. There is no turning back. All I can do is wish for the best.
Chapter Four
OWEN
Since the beginningof the year when I sold my half of the company I co-founded, I’ve slept in until eight most mornings. So, I don’t appreciate waking up to my brother jumping on me at five a.m.
“You’re fourteen,” I croak. “Way too old for this.”
I groan and try to shift him off my lungs. He may be young, but he’s already six feet tall. That’s a lot of weight making it impossible for me to breathe.
He slides off my body and onto his knees. He pokes me in the side.
“Mom said you have to get up. We leave for the airport at six-thirty.”
Our flight doesn’t leave until nine, but it’s no use arguing with Mom’s logic. If she needs to be there two hours early to wait at our gate, then so be it.
Still, five a.m.?
“That’s in an hour-and-a-half.”
I’m thirty-two, which means I’m too old to be woken up by my mother, especially not in my own house. Sometimes she forgets that I have successfully lived on my own for fourteen years.
Brady grabs the cup of water on my bedside table and throws the remaining half- inch in my face.
I wipe it away with my hand. “Really?”
“Mom said I can’t leave your room until you’re up.”
“I’m up.”
I don’t move to get out of bed, but my words must be enough because he finally leaves. I flip my pillow to the dry side, and I snuggle deeper in my blanket. I can sleep for at least another hour and still be ready by six-thirty.
Except Brady doesn’t leave my room quietly. He flips on the light and plays Mariah Carey at full blast. I jump out of bed to grab his phone, but he isn’t stupid, and runs down the hallway. When he disappears into the kitchen, I let him go and return to my room.
“Owen,” Mom calls from the kitchen before I’m able to shut the door. “Your omelet is ready. If you go back to bed, it will be cold and chewy. Get it while it’s hot.”
I debate. Get more sleep? Or have a hot breakfast? May as well enjoy a non-chewy omelet.
Brady’s cheesy omelet and a large glass of milk are half gone by the time I sit across from him, his attention on a thick fantasy book open on the table.
He takes after mom, with a lighter complexion and leaner build. He hasn’t cut his light brown hair in years, and it hangs in waves past his shoulders. There’s a bit of scruff onhis upper lip and chin. It might be time to teach him how to shave.
I’m jealous of Brady’s height. He’ll probably grow a few more inches before graduating high school. I’m five nine, broader, and more compact like dad. Dad wanted me to play football like he did since I have the build for it, but once I hit middle school, I didn’t have time for sports. Instead, I worked hard to earn an associate’s degree before I graduated high school and got my bachelor’s degree at twenty. All so I could be like Mom’s dad: a lawyer. Decisions I regret now.
Mom places a plate in front of me and ruffles my hair. Again, not a kid. When she visits me in Salt Lake, she acts like this is her house and I’m sixteen. I rarely mind, but I’m not usually out of bed at five a.m. either.
“I’m hopping in the shower now,” she says. “Who’s next?”
