CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The day of Savannah and Vince’s wedding dawned crisp and bright. Another overnight snow had blanketed Hope Falls in a fresh layer of white that Bristol pretended to admire when she dropped Violet off with Nolan.
She put on a happy face for her daughter, and she’d put one on for Savannah’s big day, but alone in the car, driving past the over-the-top town Christmas decorations, she let herself sink into the miserable stew of hurt and sad and anger.
Bristol eased to a stop at the corner of Bluebird and Main and stared at the twelve-foot inflatable angel outside the Twin Cinemas.
A feeling of desperation overtook her. “Hope,” she said staring at the smiling angel, “I need your help snapping out of this for Vanna today. Just some temporary angel magic, please?”
The angel’s beige face remained blankly positive, and Bristol pulled away cursing herself and inflatable angels everywhere.
She pulled into the parking lot of the Hope Falls Community Church right behind Savannah, their mother, and two women weighted down with tackle boxes full of hair and makeup necessities. Bristol pasted a smile on her face, climbed out of her car, and grabbed the garment bag from the backseat.
“Hey bride!” she said cheerily.
Savannah looked back at her with red eyes and sad smile. Mary had a similar expression. She could see both joy and sadness there. One daughter was getting married and starting a new life while another’s had ended.
“What’s wrong?” Bristol demanded. “Did Vince call it off to start preparing for tax season?”
Savannah, the ball-busting attorney, gave a sad little sniffle. “I’m so happy and sad at the same time I think I’m losing my damn mind.”
Mary was gesturing wildly behind Savannah’s back in a pantomime Bristol took to mean “fix your sister, now!”
“Let’s focus on the happy,” Bristol said, decisively. “When we look back at this day, we want to remember all the happy, right?”
Savannah sniffled. “I guess.”
“That’s the spirit. Now, this is really important. Does your beauty team have a hair dryer?”
“They have everything. But I already washed my h—”
She didn’t get to finish the subject because Bristol hit her in the face with a snowball.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she shrieked. “It’s my wedding day!”
Savannah Quinn never backed down from a challenge. She retaliated with her own snowy weaponry, and Mary looked on as her daughters chased each other around the church’s parking lot chucking snow at each other.
A side door opened, and Pastor Harrison poked his head out. He was a young, bookish man who often wore jeans under his robes. “Everything okay out here?” A snowball smacked into the white washed stone a foot from his face.
“Girls!” Mary yelled. “Sorry, pastor. They’re just working out some wedding day jitters.
“Well, uh, don’t get cold feet on me,” he joked before slipping back inside. Mary and the beauty team followed him, leaving the girls to their ridiculousness.
The battle for snow supremacy raged until Savannah caught Bristol by the hood of her jacket and flung her into a snowdrift. Bristol shrieked as Savannah straddled her chest and shoved a handful of snow in her face.
“There! Now who needs the hairdryer?” Savannah laughed.
“Do not laugh too hard! You’ll pee on me!” Bristol yelped.
Savannah fell over, and they both lay on their backs under the snow coated oak tree admiring the snatches of blue sky that peeked through bare branches.
“God, that felt good,” Bristol admitted.
“Hell, yeah. You know if Hope were here, we would have ganged up on her and probably shoved her head first into this drift,” Savannah said dreamily.
“Totally,” Bristol snickered. “She was such an easy target.”
A tidal wave of snow launched itself out of the tree, landing on them with a spectacular “whump.” They shrieked and sputtered, brushing their faces clean.
“What the hell was that?” Savannah demanded.
Bristol looked heavenward. “I think that was Hope.”
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Hope had shown up for her today. Of that Bristol was sure. And for the first time in weeks, she felt a spark of hopefulness burn to life inside her. It was going to be a good day, she decided.
She changed out of her snow-soaked clothes and slipped into the fleecy green maid of honor robe Savannah had given her. Her sister, in a matching robe, was getting her hair and makeup done while Tessa snapped away with her camera, capturing every step of the process.
Mary, a stickler for details, headed out for fortifying snacks and to check up on the rest of the family and wedding party.
“B, can you do me a favor?” Savannah asked without moving her lips that were being painted a festive pink.
“Sure, what do you need?”
“Can you poke your head into the sanctuary and make sure the trees are plugged in? I don’t want anyone crawling around on the floor while people are being seated.”
“On it,” Bristol said, cinching the tie on her robe and slipping her feet into her slippers. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She ducked into the hallway and walked straight into a wall. A male wall. A familiar male wall.
This wasn’t happening.
“Oh, no. No. You are definitely not here right now.”
Beau was dressed in a sleek, fitted navy suit and tie. His hair was combed, his beard neatly trimmed, and his warm hands were on her shoulders. He was here.
“Bristol—”
“No. No way! You can’t be here. This is not okay!”
“You look beautiful.” He said the words in a rush as if they had clawed their way out of him.
“And you look like a liar.” A hot one. A big, gorgeous, sexy, steaming liar.
He steered her across the hallway away from the door.
“Let me explain.”
“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “You can’t be here. It’s my sister’s wedding day. And stop touching me!”
He held up his hands in a sign of peace. “Bristol, I know you’re mad, but I can explain.”
“No, you can’t. I need to get my sister ready to walk down the aisle, not hash things out with a one-night stand.”
“We weren’t a one-night stand,” he argued. “Don’t make what we have something sad and—”
“And what?” she demanded. “Pathetic? You slept with me, and then you packed your bag and left town. Without a backwards glance, I might add.”
“Bristol, listen to me,” he gripped her arms with warm, callused palms. “I lied to you.”
“No shit.”
He squeezed harder. “I’m not a yoga instructor.”
“Yeah, how’s that hockey career going?” she said, jutting out her chin. “Evanko, right?”
He took a deep breath. “Look, I can’t fix what I did between the two of us right this second. I will. I swear to you I will. But there’s something even more important that I have to do right now.”
She choked out a laugh. “Oh really? And what’s that?”
“I want you to meet my sister.”
Bristol shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
Beau let go of one of her arms and reached into his jacket pocket. “I’m talking about this.” He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to her.
She snatched it out of his hand and opened it with a huff of impatience.
Bristol didn’t notice that her knees had buckled or that Beau had guided her over to a red velvet bench under a picture of the last supper. She didn’t notice that he’d crouched down in front of her. All that registered for her was her handwriting on the paper. Her handwriting inviting Hope’s heart recipient to her sister’s wedding.