Page 41 of Kiss Slay Replay

“ ‘She is beauty. She is grace,’ ” Evan deadpans.

“Are you okay?” Wyatt asks.

“Never better,” I say, slamming my trunk shut. I hobble forward, pulling the suitcase behind me.

“This is pathetic,” Evan says. “Accept our help.”

My foot throbs, and the wheels of my suitcase keep getting stuck on rocks, nearly tipping it over on the uneven terrain of the path. I relent. “Okay. Help, please.”

Wyatt takes my suitcase and pulls ahead of us on the path toward the cabins.

“Thank you!” I shout after him.

“Yes, thank you! Such a stud.”

Wyatt turns around, pausing to flex a bicep, then keeps on walking.

“God, I love that man,” Evan says.

“He’s a good one,” I say through clenched teeth. My foot might actually have sustained a significant injury. I don’t know if I broke a bone. Every step is agony, but I don’t even care. If the only casualties tonight are my metatarsals, I’ll be happy. Beyond happy.

“I was hoping to get a moment alone with you before the festivities begin,” Evan says. “How are you?”

“Um, yeah. I’m good,” I lie. “I had this weird, scary, intense, super realistic dream last night that’s put me in a funk. Otherwise, I…I think I’m okay.”

“I never remember my dreams. But sometimes Wyatt will have a dream I did something awful to him and I can tell he’s upset with me even though I, the real me who exists in the real world, did not commit any such crime. Then I get annoyed and it’s a whole thing,” he says. “Anyway. I don’t believe for a second that you’re okay. You’re sending me ‘I love you’ texts before nine a.m. and crying in public.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say, dragging my busted foot behind me. “I’ll snap out of it. I’m glad to be here. Genuinely. Maybe I needed to have that nightmare to make me appreciate today or something.”

“Sure,” Evan says. “You seem astonishingly well-adjusted for someone about to be reunited with their ex-fiancé.”

“You’re the first person to ever accuse me of being well-adjusted.”

He laughs.

“It is what it is with Ravi,” I say. “I don’t know. I’m not spiraling. Not about him, not currently. Just the dream. I’ve never had a dream like that in my life.”

“Are you taking melatonin? CBD? THC?”

“Gummies. Sometimes,” I say. “I didn’t last night. At least, I don’t think. I can’t remember…Maybe? You think that could have something to do with it?”

He shrugs. “Have you been taking care of yourself? Hydrating? Eating well?”

“No.”

“Seeing a therapist?”

“I hate finding a new therapist. Going through my whole history with a complete stranger…”

“Then enjoy the nightmares,” he says. “I don’t want you to be sad, Willa. Don’t you know you’re too hot to wallow in a pit of despair? You need to be good to yourself. Heal. Go to a wellness retreat. Clear your mind. Eat pray love. Find peace. But let your journey start tomorrow. I don’t want you self-immolating in the middle of the ceremony, but I can’t be the lone hater at this wedding. It’d be no fun.”

“You’re not a hater. You’re just intuitive and have a low tolerance for bullshit.”

“You’ll never guess who Steph and Jace invited.”

“Vicky Moldando.” The piercing sound of her screams echoes in my head. A flare of pain between my eyes—quick but ruthless. “I take back what I just said. You are a hater.”

“Please. We both know I’m the nicest person you will ever meet.”