Page 18 of Kiss Slay Replay

I turn around to Steph floating past us holding a bouquet of pale roses and purple dahlia and bright fuzzy moss, looking like the darling ethereal princess she is. We blow her kisses, and she smiles at us, crinkling her nose as she always does when she’s drunk on happiness. Or just plain drunk.

Two photographers zip around snapping photos. I’m distracted by them, by the way they contort their bodies to get certain shots. By their stern focus.

Steph makes it to Jace, and the music fades.

We all sit down.

Olivia starts the ceremony. “We are gathered here today to unite Stephanie and Jason in marriage, to celebrate their love and the opening of this new chapter…”

Ravi and I were supposed to get married on the rooftop terrace of a restaurant in Alexandria, near his parents’ house. The events coordinator was a stern woman who wore her hair in a low bun and had a uniform of khakis and black sleeveless turtlenecks that were always covered in orange cat hair. She smelled like Bath & Body Works, like Warm Vanilla Sugar. Every time I spoke with her, my heart rate would spike. She’d email me asking about the color of the tablecloths for the reception and I would slam my laptop shut and go grocery shopping or dust the baseboards, do some chore I’d been putting off.

“She intimidates me,” I once complained to Ravi over dinner.

“Do you think it’s the turtlenecks?”

“You think turtlenecks are intimidating?”

“Don’t you?”

“I think I’m just overwhelmed. There are so many little details. So many decisions.”

“Don’t stress yourself out,” he said, topping up my glass of wine. I realized in that moment I was asking for help and disappointed he offered none. Only words. They were pretty words, though. “No matter what happens, we’ll look back on the day and remember it being perfect.”

Today is perfect. This, right now, is perfect. The sun is just beginning to set, steeping the horizon pink. Steph and Jace exchange their handwritten vows. Birds sing. People laugh. Cry sweet tears that I imagine must taste like sugar instead of salt. It’s heavenly weather, not too warm or too cold. The air feels like silk and smells so clean. The promise of signature drinks and dinner and dancing twinkles over our heads like stars.

But I’m struggling to be present, because I’m thinking about the wedding that never happened, tormenting myself with what-ifs. I know better. Rose-colored glasses make everything blurry.

Steph and Jace kiss. There’s applause. I press my hands together. Luke does the loudest finger whistle known to man. Everyone’s on their feet again. Cassie’s pulling me up. Propping me up.

I wonder where Ravi is. I wonder if he’s also thinking about our ill-fated wedding. Probably. It’s a waste not to wonder.

I search the crowd, going dizzy with all these people hollering and clapping and not holding still. And sudden as a siren, I sense it. Eyes. Someone watching me.

Ravi?

Danny?

As much as I want it to be, I somehow know it isn’t either of them. I can feel it.

There’s this sinking, slimy knot in my gut. Mega dread.

Everyone else is turned toward the aisle, where Steph and Jace walk through a shower of confetti. They don’t see what I see, as I turn my gaze toward the woods.

Beyond the picturesque cocktail setup—the vintage couches, the glowing lanterns, the retro Airstream—across the grassy lawn, between the slim crescent of lakeshore and the edge of the woods, there’s a flash of darkness. What could be someone disappearing among the trees. What could be the figure I saw earlier. But it’s there and gone too fast. I have no proof, nothing other than this heartsick feeling. And even that I could attribute to the vast number of other issues I’m currently dealing with.

“Willa?” Evan asks, stepping into my line of sight.

“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. Shaking off my unhinged jitters. “I’m sorry.”

“What for? You’re doing great.”

“Am I?”

“Well,” he says. “Sure.”

“Haven’t doused myself in gasoline.”

“The night is young.”