Page 1 of The Golden Scoop

ONE

Emma

I never thought I’d have to walk into this chapel to meet the man I hate the most. It’s right up there with my worst nightmare turned reality—him being part of my inner circle. And no matter how many scenarios I run in my head, I can’t get out of it. Everything’s ready. The wooden bench seats are full, with flowers hanging down the sides. My family waits right at the front, looking at the groom, expecting me at any moment.

“It’s not that bad,” Julia says, standing in front of a full-length mirror, smoothing her hands down her dress. “All you have to do is walk down the aisle, stay strong for about thirty tedious minutes, and then you’ll be free.”

Easier said than done. He brings out the worst in me. My blood boils until I look like a cartoon with smoke coming out of my ears. Every time. I can’t help it. He’s my pet peeve: faker than a three-dollar bill.

“Ugh. Fine. But you have to promise me after today, I don’t have to see him ever again,” I complain, walking over to her, “assuming I don’t murder him before the first dance.”

Julia turns toward me, and I swear my jaw actually drops. She’s never looked more radiant. Her wavy brown hair is tucked into a low bun, a couple of strands framing her face. The dress is pure magic—crispy white, off-the-shoulder. All effortless elegance. Honestly, she looks like the kind of woman you’d cross continents for. Which is exactly what happened after she met Josh in London two years ago.

“I love that you’re acting like I paired you with a pre-pubescent teen and not with a hot-as-hell Hollywood actor,” Julia says, wiggling her eyebrows.

I scoff but move behind her to stretch out her train as far as it will go.

“He might as well be one,” I whisper, loud enough she hears. A chuckle follows her eye roll. “You know, I really thought your powers as my wingwoman would’ve worked before your wedding.”

“I think Josh has introduced you to almost every decent man he knows.”

“Decent,” I mock, “I’m not looking for decent. Not a you problem when you’re going to be Mrs. Golden-Retriever-slash-Greek-God Harrison in less than an hour.”

She laughs, but the blush that tints her cheeks is the telltale sign I’m right. And despite my own shortcoming with a plus one, there’s no one who deserves this kind of love more than her.

Don’t get me wrong, I wish I had what she does, but I learned a long time ago actively looking for it isn’t going to get me any closer to finding it. I’m still trying to keep an open mind. I don’t date unless I feel like it could be something more than just a hook-up. So far, though, I haven’t had much luck.

“Matt’s got the Greek god part down as well,” she teases. I purposefully gag to drive my point home.

“Probably from all the steroids he takes and his endless supply of pre-workout and protein shakes,” I say, even though I’ve never seen him take any of those. “What about the golden retriever attribute, huh? He’s more like a French bulldog: a lot of show, not many brains.”

“You don’t want a golden retriever,” Julia states. “You need someone who can keep up with your Emma-ness. And I’m willing to bet Matt might just fit that role perfectly.”

“Based on what? Our undeniable hate for each other?”

Julia spins and hands me her veil carefully. I gesture for her to sit. I’ve been blessed with many things in life, but being tall is not one of them. My five-foot-two self cannot accomplish this task even in heels.

I tuck it neatly into her bun and lay it around her shoulders and down her dress. She’s a vision. I would shed a tear or two if it weren’t for her most definitely telling me off for it.

“I don’t want to say it,” she begins, pulling me in front of her.

“Then don’t.”

“There’s only a thin line from hate to love.”

I roll my eyes again. “This is your day,” I tell her. “I want to focus on you and only you. Can we please stop talking about that walking excuse of a man?”

“Alright, we don’t want you to get flustered before going out there,” Julia teases.

“I find it so ironic that usually you’re the one nervous about every little detail, and today, on your wedding day, you’re the calmest I’ve ever seen you.”

My chest wants to burst from how proud I feel. This moment is a dream for us. One she thought for a while wasn’t ever going to happen. But she took one look in the mirror and decided she wasn’t backing down. Julia’s my inspiration.

She exhales, loud and long, and the biggest smile takes over her face. “I’m happy. There’s no room for anything else aside from pure, raw happiness.”

Right on time, Julia’s dad walks into the room. His hair is sticking out in every direction, tie hanging more crooked than the Tower of Pisa.

“Oh, Mr. Thomas,” I whine, dashing over to him to straighten out his suit.