Cross My Heart (50 page)

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H
our
s
later I kick off my lavender shoes and si
t down at the table to
eat another piece of cake
. It’s past dinner
time
and I’m
starving. Sarah and Daniel departed
earlier
in Daniel’s truck, after running through a shower of birdseed. A few family members
still linger
,
mingling,
but my duties as bri
desmaid a
re officially over
.

As I examine
my feet,
the monstrous red blisters gracing my tiny toes and
heels, I groan
.

“I can get you somethi
ng for that.”

My ch
eeks
flush,
gro
w
ing
warm
er
.
I tuck
my feet b
eneath the chair, hiding them from t
he cute server
, still manning
the drink station
.

“You can get me some wa
ter,” I say
, smiling.
Because
honestly
? I
never want
to see another cup of red punch ever again. 

He bends
down for a moment, disappearing
, and
re-emerges
moments later, produc
ing a
Dasani
.

“You . . . are my hero,” I say as he carries
it over to me.

“I got it,” a voice interrupts
.
“You can go back to your
little
table.”
Phillip snatches
the bottled water from the s
erver’s hand and set
s
it down
in front of me.

The
guy
pauses
for a moment, confused, before slinking
away
.

“Phillip,” I hiss as he plops
down in the chair beside me. “You are
so
embarrassing. I expect this kind of thing from Daniel. Not you.”

“He’s
not your type,” Phillip replies
. “And he’s been eyeing every girl here under the age of twenty-five.”

“D
oes that include Becky?” I ask
, twisting the plastic cap open. “And you’re jealous?”

“That includes Becky, and Candace, and Melissa, and
Sarah, for God’s sake, and you
. . . .”

“And that blond
e who works with Sarah,” I add
.

“Who?”

“The blonde. In the green dress. She sat with Candace all night.”

A flicker of recognition. “Oh
.
Everyone
was checking her out.”

I roll
my eyes. “You’re such a guy. So where is Becky, anyway?”

He nods
toward
the table where my parents stan
d, still talking to guests. “She’s on Joshua duty.”

She’s sitting
at an emp
ty table holding
Joshy
,
who’s
fast asleep
, head
on her shoulder.
“
Poor little guy had a busy day.”

“There was
a lot of excitement,” he replies
.

“Sarah’s parents
actually
showing up
,” I muse
.

“Your over-priced
,
unnecessary
pink mixer
.”

“
Our big brother actually settling down. Moving out.
”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking abo
ut one-upping all that,” he says
.

I eye
him warily. “What are you talking about?”

He reaches into his pocket and
removes a diminutive, ebony
ring box.

“Phillip!” I whisper. “No
freakin
’ way!” I glance
over at
Becky, still sitting with Josh
, oblivious.

He pops
open the lid,
keeping
the box tucked
safely
below the table.
A dazzling square diamond, nestled
deeply
between the velvet folds, shimmers back.

“Oh
My God. It’s gorgeous!” I cry
,
heart skipping a beat
. “When are you going to ask her?”

H
e shrugs
. “Later tonight. I
heard about women and weddings. I figured I’d be more likely to get a yes if I asked her today.”

I ta
k
e a swig of water, then sha
k
e
my head in disbelief, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe you. You actually found a girl you like . . .
and
you
want
to
marry her
.”

“Why’s that so
surprising?” he asks
.

“Because you’re . . .
you
. You’ve never dated a girl longer than a week. I swear to God, I’m waiting for it to start snowing, or the zombie apocalypse, because the world is coming to an end.”

He smiles.
“
Maybe. But you know, when you love someone you love them.
And every day you sit back pretending that you don’t is
one less day you have with him.
”

“
Her,
”
I correct.

He shifts his eyes in my direction.
“
I wasn’t talking about me.
”

He wasn’t talking about
. . . .
I swallow hard, forcing back the lump lodged deep in my throat.
“Well, anyway. I like her.
I hope she says yes
.
”

“Me too
.” He closes the box
with a snap
and exhales
deeply. “We’ll try to give you a breather, though.”

My eyebrows furrow
. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He s
tands
, slipping the ring box
into the pocket of his black tuxedo jacket
, a mischievous
grin plucking at the corners of his mouth
. “Becau
se if she says yes, you
get to play bridesmaid again.”

In the time it takes
to travel from the
park
to my house, the sun
disappears
below t
he horizon. T
he entire world
shadowed in reds, purples
, and dark blues. Melissa pulls
her
car to the curb, and we step
back into the cool, eve
ning air. I shi
ver
, rubbing my arms as we
cross the damp lawn.

Daniel’s truck, still covered in stre
amers and balloons and paint, i
s parked in the driveway.

“I figured you guys
would’ve left by now,” I call
, entering
the foyer.

Sarah’s voice drifts
downstairs, mu
ffled: “We’re packing!”

“We would’ve been gone already, but Sarah couldn’t leave without saying
goodbye to Joshua,” Daniel adds
, appearing at the top of the stairs.

“They’re on their way. They were lea
ving right behind us.” I step
out of my shoe
s and kick
the
m into the front living room,
feet aching. I flip
on the light. Hairdryers, rollers, make-up, safety pin
s, garment bags, and clothes ar
e
scattered across the room. It’
s trashed beyond all
recognition.
I heave
a sigh
, turning
the light
off
. T
his
is not something I
can
deal with
right now
.
“I don’t think I’m
gonna
be able t
o walk right for a year,” I tell
Melissa.

“I know,” she replies
. “Sarah? That whole dyed-to-
match thing
didn’t work for us,” she yells
.

“It’s t
oo late
now,” she points
out
as we head
upstairs.

Sarah,
already changed
into jeans and a sweatshirt,
i
s packing
a suitcase
. H
er wedding dress
is
tossed on the bed in a heap of satin and tulle.
“Wedding’s over!” I tease
, passing her bedroom and entering
mine.

I flip
on the
light switch in my bathroom, moving toward
the sink, feeling the exhaustion in my legs from standing
most of the evening
. I study
my reflection in the mirror.
Definitely in need of a good night’s sleep
, I think, examining the dark
circles beneath my eyes.
And the
concealer
on my scar didn’t hold up.
 

Without thinking, I reach
for the wrench to turn on t
he water, but . . .
it
’s
missing.

“What?” I murmur
.

That’s when I see
it: a brand new faucet
. A
n entirely new fixture . . . with two handles sparkling in the light. I carefull
y twist the knob. Cold water pours out of the spout. It works
.

I smile
.

Behind me, Daniel clears
his throat.

“What is this?” I ask
, turning to face him.

He shrugs
his shoulders.

“When did you do this?” I ask
. “
Because I know it wasn’t Dad.”

“You do
n’t know it wasn’t Dad,” he says
, w
alking into the bathroom. I eye
him suspiciously.

“All rig
ht. It wasn’t Dad,” he confesses
.

“I just don’t get how you managed it
.” My shiny new faucet glimmers
. “I mean, you were at the new house all day. And we were here until right before the wedding started.”

“I didn’t do it,” he assures
me, leaning against the towel rack on my wall.

“Was it Phillip?”

“Nope.”

I roll
my eyes. “Come on. You’re killing me, Daniel.”

He crosses
his arms. “Let’s just say
someone
called in a favor.”

I stare
at the fa
ucet for a moment. When I look back at Daniel, he nods
.

I swallow hard.
“You talked to him?”
The words break to pieces in my throat.

“A few times.” He shrugs
, lifting his shoulders and letting them fall
.

“How is he?”

“The truth?”

I nod.

“He misses you.”

I miss him
, I want to say, eyes growing damp.

Daniel stan
d
s
straighter, stuffing
his hands deep inside his pockets. “
Anyway, h
e wanted to do something nice for my little sister so I left him a key
. He came while we were
at the wedding.”
He shuffles
in the doorway
,
runs
his fingers through his hair. “He was finished by the time we got
back. I was kind of hoping
he would sti
ck around.”