Chapter 1
Sarah
I swipe a brush over my eyelid, blink at the wrong time, and end up trying to pretty my eyeball instead of the skin above it.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Remember what Mom always says: “Everything happens for a reason.”
Dropping the brush into the sink, I snatch a wash cloth from the bathroom counter and scrub my eye like my sight depends on it—which it probably does.
I try positive visualization to calm my nerves: a hot beach, a fruity cocktail, soft white sand beneath me, crystal blue water for miles, and the gorgeous man I used to love lying next to me.
Shaking my head, I drop my chin and try the breathing thing again. What am I thinking?
I tossed and turned all night, dozing off at dawn only to sleep through my alarm. And when I finally did wake up, it was in a cold sweat, having dreamed of a life full of regret if I followed through with today’s two o’clock appointment.
Am I about to make the biggest mistake of my life? I always figured I’d get married, just not to my best friend and for money, nonetheless.
I have no other choice that I can see. It’s my last resort after exhausting all other possibilities.
My soon-to-be spouse—my best friend, Wyatt—would never do me wrong, and is stepping up to help by becoming my husband. Together, our combined income will allow me to borrow enough to cover my parents’ overdue property taxes.
Dad lost his job last year when the big finance firm he had been working for since I was a kid slashed hundreds of jobs after a scandal involving the CEO. With Mom in and out of hospital with Lupus, neither of them were bringing in any money. They lived off Dad’s severance package for a few months but then started to struggle. What I didn’t realize until a month ago was just how bad things had gotten. When I found out that a lien had been put on the property by a tax buyer and a huge sum of money was needed for my parents to clear their house title and be able to sell their place, I felt compelled to do something.
As soon as I found out, I went online and applied for any and every loan available. When that failed, I met with my bank manager, then my boss, trying to find a way to raise the money I would need to save the house.
I even tried to sell my car, hoping that any payment to the government would be better than no payment. My father put a stop to that particular option almost immediately, telling me in no uncertain terms that I either stopped what I was doing or else he’d lock me in my cotton candy pink bedroom to teach me a lesson. When I retorted that he wouldn’t be able to do that if he didn’t have the house, he muttered some rather unmentionable words under his breath and walked away.
It was the truth though, and both Mom and Dad knew it.
Last weekend, when it appeared that all hope was lost, I drowned my sorrows with copious amounts of gin and tonic. When Wyatt came home from his hospital shift where he works as a pediatric nurse, he found me white girl wasted on the couch with a bowl of potato chips in one hand and tissues in the other while I sobbed over Bride Wars.
But being the amazing human being that he is, Wyatt sat down, pulled me into his lap and cuddled me while we watched the prince find his princess. Then he made me a strong coffee, effectively poured it down my throat, and asked me to spill the beans.
So I did. I told him everything.
That was when he shocked the shit out of me and asked me to marry him.
When I asked what his boyfriend Mark might think about it, he shrugged, and said, “Sez, if I’m going to marry a woman, you’re the only one I want it to be.”
Of course at the time, I was totally on board the wedding train. The next morning I had a little trepidation but knew it was a good compromise because together, our combined income would definitely qualify us for a big enough loan, and I could help my parents out and save the house.
But when I woke up this morning, a seemingly normal wedding-day Wednesday, there was a deep ache in my chest, the likes of which I hadn’t felt for years.
Opening my eyes, I stare at myself in the mirror and catch the reflection of my alarm clock in my bedroom.
“Shit!” I shriek, clutching the towel wrapped around me as I run into my bedroom, grab the black garment bag from inside my closet door, and carefully lay it on my bed before throwing my towel to the side.
It’s then I glance up and meet the very wide eyes of my teenage boy neighbor across the street whose living room window looks straight through my open curtains.
He stands there frozen with a huge goofy grin on his face while I scream bloody murder and scramble to find my towel, slipping on a wayward sock and kicking my nightstand in the process, bending my little toe the wrong way.
Now I’m naked, jumping on the spot like a kangaroo with my leg bent as I hold my foot, trying to ease the pain. Giving up on regaining any dignity, I drop to the floor and crawl around my bed to my window, jerking my curtains shut before collapsing front first on the floor.
Not going to be able to look that guy in the eyes again, that’s for sure.
My cell phone rings from the bathroom, and with a defeated sigh, I hoist myself up off the floor to go fetch it.
“Hey Wyatt,” I say, struggling to catch my breath.
“Sez, you okay?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” I’m lying through my teeth here.
“You were kind of weird last night, more than normal, so I wanted to check in. Are you on your way?”
“No,” I reply with a huff. “I woke up late after barely sleeping, then flashed the neighbor’s son, and I now have a potentially broken toe.”
“What?” he says with a laugh. “How did all of that happen?”
“Because I’m Sarah Mason, that’s how. What time are we supposed to be there?” I grab a lipstick tube out of my cosmetics case and cradle the phone against my shoulder as I mindlessly swipe it on.
“I told you yesterday, hon. We need to be there at two o’clock. I’m taking an hour off work. Are you okay to grab a cab?”
“I was just going to catch the L.” I drop the lipstick and pick up my mascara, rushing through the process and not really concentrating on what I’m doing before dropping it, grabbing my perfume bottle, and spritzing some on.
“You do know you’ll be wearing a wedding dress, right? You haven’t forgotten that fact?”
I shrug. “It’s not like it’s a big poufy gown with a long train. It’s a formal white dress that just happens to be what I’m getting married in.”
“Sez, hon . . .” Wyatt’s voice goes soft. “We don’t have to do this if you’re having second thoughts.”
“We do have to do this, Wyatt, and you know why. I love you like a brother and in . . .” I pull the phone from my ear to look at the time. “Shit! I’m so freaking late. I’ll see you there at two . . . maybe . . .”
“Okay.”
I giggle, a genuine smile forming on my lips. “Alright, soon-to-be hubby, let me go so I can get dressed and leave.”
“See you there.”
“I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me, Wyatt. I hope you know that?”
“I do. And I really hope you know that I would do anything for you. I mean, what’s a wedding between besties?”
“Exactly,” I reply.
“And Sez?
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget the tiara. If you don’t wear it, I swear to God I’ll stand you up at the altar. Runaway brides won’t have anything on a runaway gay groom.”
“But—” I don’t get to voice my protest because Wyatt has hung up on me.
Dammit.