Page 79 of Fall Over You

“You’re good at this,” she says when I’m a few nails in.

“If I can paint a toddler’s nails, I can paint my bride’s.” I blow on her fingers after I finish the first coat and start to unscrew the glitter bottle.

Her breathing falters, and I look up in time to see a single mascara-colored tear fall down her cheek.

I cap the polish bottle and lift my finger to wipe her tear away.

It was devastating when CJ had her big meltdowns.

It’s gut-wrenching whenever Ellie hurts.

But I’m ready to burn the world down over whatever is making Becca Martin cry.

I lean my elbows onto my knees and put my hand on her leg.

“What is it, baby?”

I didn’t mean to call her that, but it just slips out sometimes. The weird thing is, it’s felt right every time. When I was going down on her and encouraging her to come for me. Now, when she’s upset and it’s everything I can do not to pull her into my lap and hold her.

She draws a big, wheezy inhale before she lets out a sob, the first and only sob I’ve ever heard out of her. “I want our families to be there today. I know it’s fake and I know it’s stupid, but this is probably my only wedding.”

“It’s not stupid,” I assure her.

“I want Ernest to walk me in and I want Dustin to give me away,” she heaves a choppy breath, “and I want Ellie to see us and our parents and Mamaw and . . . I want pictures.”

My heart swells at her inclusion of Ellie. I think I secretly want her there too, and it’s a huge relief. I fight a smile. “Okay.”

“I want dancing and cake and nothing has to be fancy and I know I’m not a girly girl and I’m not supposed to like this stuff but I want those things, Tyler.”

“Let’s do it.”

“What?” Becca finally stops looking at her hands in her lap and looks up at me. I grab a napkin from her chicken-shaped napkin holder and dab the tears off her face.

“Let’s have our families come. I’ll put this glitter on your nails and then I’ll call them.” My heart is pounding, all of this multiplying so fast, but so are my emotions about it.

I want Becca Martin to have what she wants and I’m ready to move mountains to make sure she gets it.

“We’ll have to bust Ernest out of the nursing home. We might get in trouble,” she squeaks.

“Then I guess you’re turning me back into a troublemaker.”

THIRTY

BECCA

I gasp when I walk out onto my gravel drive.

“It’s street legal?”

Tyler chuckles. “I tried, anyway. Your chariot awaits.”

I cut my eyes up to him. “Did you wash it after,” I wag my eyebrows, “you know.”

Tyler’s cheeks are red through his cute little blonde beard, a little more grown in this week than his usual strictly-stubble look. “It’s clean,” he says. “Vacuumed it and everything.”

“The hood? Probably should have used Windex to make sure you got all the little swimmers.” I’m having the most magnificent time giving him some shit, and it’s a delight to watch him squirm.

The victory is mine because his dimple shows up just a second before he breaks into a full laugh. “You never change.”