Addison

 

I was totally over weddings. All that “happily ever after” nonsense, with the blushing bride, the big dress, the handsome groom. And I had good reason to be. I had been to no less than seventeen weddings in the last year. Seventeen! I’d been a bridesmaid at three, a guest at thirteen, and was foolish enough to have accepted a plus-one from a guy I thought was cute—until he got drunk and hit on the bride, that was.

Of course, my disdain for weddings had nothing to do with the fact that I was single and hadn’t been on a decent date in well over a year.

Nothing at all.

I rubbed my nose and let out a heavy sigh. I glanced up the line. I was still a good twenty people from the check-in counter, where the perky airline employees were welcoming victims to their cramped and uncomfortable airline. The one with the overly salted peanuts and weak coffee that tasted like it had been used to wash some granny’s undergarments.

Had I mentioned I loved to fly?

“You headin’ on vacation?” a voice said behind me.

I turned to face a woman, taking in her lime green polyester pantsuit, circa 1978, straining across her ample bosom. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, are y’all headin’ on vacation?” She blinked at me, her eyebrows disappearing under her heavily peroxided bangs.

“No, I’ve been here in Dallas for a wedding. I’m going home, back to Orlando,” I replied with a smile, charmed by her Texan accent and thankful for the distraction. This line seemed to be taking forever.

“Oh, how wonderful! I’m going on vacation. I’m meeting my friend, Merna, in Orlando and then we’re going the theme parks and the beach!”

“Well, Florida’s the place to go if you want beaches and theme parks.”

She cocked her head. “You don’t sound like you’re from there. Where’re you from, sweetness?” She put her hand with its painted nails on my arm. I glanced down. Her nails had intricate floral patterns in the polish. That must have taken hours to do.

“No, I’m not. I’m from—”

She held her hand with the elaborately painted nails up in the air. “Don’t tell me! You’re from England!”

I did an internal eye roll. I always got that. For some reason, people assumed if I wasn’t American, I must be English—despite the fact I was from somewhere twelve thousand miles south from there.

We shuffled forward about two feet. Small progress, but at least it was progress.

“Actually, I’m from New Zealand. I’ve lived in Orlando for a couple of years now.”

Merna’s friend placed her hand over her chest, her interest piqued. “Oh, my! You know, I have seen all the Lord of the Rings movies, every one.”

I got that a lot, too. About the only thing people seemed to know about New Zealand was that it was a long way away and the Lord of the Rings movies were filmed there.

I nodded and smiled. “Good for you.”

“I adore that one, you know? The one with the dark hair?”

I shook my head. I had no clue who she was referring to.

“Oh, you know!” She slapped my arm a little too hard and my eyes widened in surprise. “The one who was all manly and excitin’.”

“In the movies?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t going to hit me again.

“Yes!”

“Umm.” I bit my lip as I racked my brain for manly and exciting actors with dark hair who were in Lord of the Rings. “Orlando Bloom? No, he was blond. How about Viggo Mortensen?”

But Merna’s friend wasn’t listening. Instead, she nudged me with her elbow—I was growing tired of being manhandled by this woman now—as she watched something intently across the departures hall.

I followed her line of sight, and my jaw dropped open. A woman, dressed in a wedding gown, was running across the concourse, her shoes held in one hand, her veil floating behind her.

I blinked. Had I been to so many weddings I was now seeing brides in random places? I blinked again.

No, still there.

She had a wild expression on her pretty face, like she was running from something. And considering her attire, I would bet last month’s shop earnings it was from her own wedding.

We—and probably the rest of the people in the airport—watched as the bride dashed past and out of sight.

“What in the name of the sweet Lord Jesus was that about?” Merna’s friend muttered, more to herself than to anyone in particular.

“You saw her?” I asked, relieved I wasn’t having bridal hallucinations.

“Of course I did!”

“Looked like a runaway bride to me,” replied a man standing beside her. He was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt that assaulted the eye.

“Sure looked that way to me. That poor man, left at the altar.” Merna’s friend shook her head, tut-tutting.

“It’s probably some publicity stunt or reality show,” I offered.

Why else would a bride run through an airport? I mean, this wasn’t a movie.

Hawaiian shirt man harrumphed. “Probably. They’ll do anything to get you to buy things these days.”

With the bride gone, we returned our attention to waiting in line, Merna’s friend asking me more about actors from Lord of the Rings. When I didn’t know the answers, I made things up, hoping she would accept them as a native of “Middle Earth.”

She did, much to my relief.

I wished I could magic myself back to my apartment in Orlando and be done with this whole thing. Not that I really wanted to be back in Orlando. Although it was a great place to live, I would be no inspiration whatsoever to a novelist. I went to work, went home, ate, slept, hit repeat.

That was my life: day in, day out.

Finally, after hearing all about what Merna’s friend was going to do on vacation (pretty much sitting in the sun and eating, by the sounds of it), I checked in with the perky airline staff and heaved a sigh of relief as I bid her farewell.

I wandered toward the shops in search of eye drops for the flight. Although the trip from Dallas to Orlando was under three hours, the air conditioning made my eyes so dry I looked like some kind of drug addict by the time I landed.

In the store, I collected a jumbo-sized pack of eye drops, a candy bar—a girl needs sustenance, you know—and began to peruse the magazines, when I spotted the runaway bride again, darting down an aisle, her arms full of store merchandise. She dropped a hairbrush, and I watched surreptitiously out of the corner of my eye as she leaned down and picked it up, her dress splaying out around her on the floor.

As she straightened up, our eyes met for a split second before she turned away, disappearing once more.

It was all a little spooky.

I returned my attention to the magazines, trying in vain to push the look in the bride’s eyes from my mind.

Right, magazines. Fat shaming . . . skinny shaming . . . divorced and desperate . . . single and desperate . . . I let out another sigh and gave up. I decided instead to watch YouTube clips of cute kittens while I waited for my flight and purchased my items.

As I walked out of the store, I spotted Merna’s friend waving at me—really, in that lime green outfit, it would be hard to miss her—a big, excited grin plastered across her shiny face. I turned away as quick as I could, stuffing my purchases into my overnight bag, and walked away from her, into a crowd of people. I pushed my long blonde hair behind my ears and pulled the hood of my top up over my head, hoping it was an adequate disguise.

I kept walking until I found myself by a group of people, looking up at a large screen. I glanced around: no sign of Merna’s friend. Although she was nice enough, I’d pretty much had my share of what she had planned for her week in Florida.

I pulled my purse around and reached inside, searching for my boarding pass. I pulled it out and looked up, scanning the screen for my flight number.

I felt a swish of fabric against my bare leg and snapped my head to the side. With surprise I saw it was the runaway bride, clutching a boarding pass and her pretty, strappy shoes in her hands, her brow furrowed as she looked up, studying the screen.

I took a moment to look her over out of the corner of my eye. She certainly looked like a bride, so I’d have to give her ten out of ten for effort. She had the ivory gown—perfectly fitted, tasteful, no meringue in sight—the veil, trailing from the top of her head down her back, and her perfectly styled dark hair hanging in curls over her shoulders. She was about my age and height, perhaps slightly taller, although I did have my three-inch heels on, so I was cheating a little—or a lot.

She turned and looked straight at me.

“Oh, hey,” I muttered, my face heating up. I had been so totally busted.

“Hey,” she replied with a faint smile.

I looked around, trying to spot the cameras. This had to be some kind of setup. When I spotted none, I said, “Can I ask you something?”

She returned her attention to the screen. “Actually, I’m trying to find my flight, but I don’t see it up there.”

“Do you want some help?” I offered, playing along with the charade—because that’s what this had to be.

The bride looked back at me, her face softening. “Yes, please. The agent said the gate wasn’t assigned yet, so I needed to check the board, and I’ve . . . I’ve had a stressful day.”

I chuckled. “I bet. Here.” I reached for her boarding pass, which she handed to me straight away. I checked the flight details. “You’re going to Baltimore?”

“I am?” she replied, her brows knitted together.

I took a step closer to her. I pointed at the destination listed on her boarding pass. “That’s what it says here.”

She shrugged, flashing me a smile that lit up her entire face. “I guess I’m going to Baltimore.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You didn’t know where you were flying?” She shook her head. I looked around us again. “This is some kind of stunt, isn’t it? I mean, you’re a runaway bride, there must be a groom here or something, right?”

Her eyes flashed. “Todd’s here?” She scanned the people milling around us, some of whom were watching her, some talking behind their hands. A couple of girls were filming her on their phones.

“Who’s Todd?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her. “Oh, I know what this is! It’s street theater, only, we’re at an airport, so technically this is airport theater, if that’s a thing. Is that a thing?”

The bride shot me a quizzical look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can I have my boarding pass back, please?”

“Oh, of course.” I handed it to her and watched as she studied it, looking up at the screen once more.

My curiosity got the better of me. I had to ask. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but are you for real?”

She turned to look at me. “What do you mean, ‘for real’?”

“I mean, are you an actual runaway bride?”

She shifted her weight, pressing her lips together. There was something in her expression, something that gave me the answer.

This was no stunt.

“You are, aren’t you?” I asked softly, putting my hand to my face. “You’ve run away from your own wedding.”

She nodded, her face grim. “And I need to get out of here. Before . . .”

“Before anyone realizes where you are?”

She nodded again. “Although, I don’t think they would look for me here. Would they?”

“Honey, it’s an airport and you’re a runaway bride. Of course, they will look for you here.”

She wrung her hands, and my heart went out to her. I had no clue what her story was or why she was here, standing next to me, the classic beautiful bride, but she looked lost, like she needed someone’s help.

My help.

“Do you know what? If you want to make it harder for them to find you, the first thing you’re going to have to do is lose the dress.”

She looked down, as though seeing her wedding dress for the first time. “Yeah, you’re right. But I didn’t bring anything else to wear. I’ll just have to go shopping when I get to . . . Baltimore.”

“I have a better idea,” I said with a smile. “I think we’re about the same dress size.” I pulled in my tummy. “I’ve got a spare pair of shorts and a T-shirt in my bag. Clean, not worn.” Which was mostly true. “How about we go to the ladies’ room and you can get changed into them?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Of course. Just as long as you didn’t murder anyone as well as run away from your wedding. I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime or anything.”

She let out a laugh. “No! Just left my future husband at the altar.” Her face fell as her words appeared to sink in. “I left my future husband at the altar.” She shook her head, her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I did that. Poor Todd.”

I noticed the group of people watching her had grown in numbers. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt protective of this woman. “Let’s go and get you changed, okay?”

She nodded dumbly. I took her hand in mine and led her past the ogling strangers into the ladies’ room.

Once inside, I pulled my spare T-shirt and pair of shorts out of my bag and handed them to her. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Her smile was weak and I could tell she was holding back the tears. “I . . . I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Addison Bloom, but my friends call me Addi.” I extended my hand.

She leaned down and placed her shoes on the bathroom floor, straightened up, and placed both her hands on mine, clasping them tight. “I’m Sabrina Monroe. It’s great to meet my guardian angel.” Tears welled in her eyes as she smiled at me.

I laughed, as much enjoying the compliment as I was trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve never been called a guardian angel before. I kinda like it. Why don’t you go get changed? I’ll wait out here for you.”

“Sure.” Sabrina enclosed herself in the disabled stall, and I waited patiently outside. After a moment, she called out. “Um, Addi?”

“Yes?”

She cracked the door and poked her head out. “I realize I’ve only known you for a few minutes, but I need your help getting out of this thing. Naomi, my maid of honor, helped me get into it, and I doubt I can do it myself. It’s a little complicated with all the buttons.”

“No worries.”

Once we had wrangled with the dress and the veil clipped to the top of her head, she wrapped the dress around her arm to form it into a ball and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor.

If that didn’t tell me how she felt about getting married, nothing did.

Well, other than running out on her wedding, of course. That was a pretty darn clear sign, if ever there was.

I snuck out of the stall as Sabrina slipped into my T-shirt and shorts. A moment later, her dark hair tied back in a high ponytail, she emerged, holding her balled-up dress under one arm, her purse slung over the other. In her strappy bridal heels, she towered over me, and although the shorts were a little looser on her than me, she looked like Daisy Duke from The Dukes of Hazzard, the shorts showcasing her enviable long legs in a way they never did on me.

Sabrina regarded herself in the mirror. “I don’t look like a bride anymore.”

I smiled at her reflection. “No, you don’t.”

I thought I detected a momentary shadow pass over her face, but it was gone in a flash.

She turned and smiled at me. “Thank you so much, Addi. You have no idea how much this means to me.” She leaned in to hug me, and I breathed in her pretty floral scent, feeling good I had helped this woman in her hour of need.

“I’ll get these back to you as soon as I can.”

I looked at the way the clothes looked so much better on her than on me. “You keep them. We’d better get you on that flight to Baltimore.”

We exited the ladies’ room and headed back to look at the departures screen, Sabrina assimilating into the crowd as much as a five-foot-ten glamazon in heels could. The passenger numbers had swollen while we had been wrestling with Sabrina’s dress in the bathroom, plenty of people milling around, staring up at the departure screens.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Sabrina said.

“I think you should just be glad they’re not watching you, anymore.”

She shot me a wry smile and looked up at the departures screen. “Oh, no!”

“What?”

“Look. The flights are all delayed.”

“All of them?” I looked up and saw the word “Delayed” repeated row after row. I searched the screen for my flight number and my heart sunk when I saw it, too, wasn’t getting off the ground any time soon.

“Why? How could every single flight be delayed?” Sabrina said, her pitch rising.

“It’s the storm,” a balding, middle-aged man said beside us. His voice was grim. “See?”

We both looked out at the darkened sky, wind and rain lashing against the tall windows. When I had arrived at the airport, it had been a hot, beautiful, sunny June day.

“What if this is a sign that I made the wrong decision?” Sabrina said, her eyes wild.

“I don’t think it’s a sign,” I replied, trying to soothe her. Although the storm was an annoyance for me, I imagined Sabrina would be going apoplectic about now.

She shrugged. “I guess.” She swallowed. “What are we going to do now?”

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“We’ll all just have to wait it out,” the middle-aged man said, his tone matter-of-fact.

Sabrina continued to study the screen, as though concentrating really hard would change it.

“I suggest y’all get yourselves comfortable. It may be a long night,” the man added.

I glanced out the window at the storm. If there was one thing I had learned from living in the south, it was that they did big storms here.

We could be here for a while.

“Sabrina? How about we look for a place where you won’t be so obvious?”

She nodded, her face creased with worry.

“Are you hungry?”

She put her hand over her tummy. “Yes, I’m starving!” she said in surprise.

I chuckled. “Fancy a burger?”

“That sounds perfect. And I love that expression—‘fancy,’” she said with a smile.

We found a decent-looking burger joint—decent by airport standards, anyway—and ordered and sat together, gratefully devouring our meals.

“This burger is fantastic!” I declared.

“It sure is,” Sabrina agreed, her mouth full. She swallowed and took a large sip of her Coke. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“When did you last eat?”

She sat and thought for a moment as I took another bite. “I guess it was breakfast.”

I laughed. “You’re hilarious! I never forget when last I ate or what I had.”

By way of response she merely shrugged, sinking her teeth into her burger once more, her eyes rolling back in her head from the deliciousness.

“I hope this storm doesn’t go on too long,” I said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Look on the bright side, it wasn’t much of a day for a wedding.” I grinned and waggled my eyebrows.

She laughed sardonically, glancing at the ball of wedding dress on the seat next to her. “That’s true.” She placed her burger back on the plate and looked out to the distance, a lost look on her face.

After a moment, I asked, “I’m sorry I brought it up. Do you want to talk about what happened? I mean, we’re never going to see one another again, I don’t know anyone you know, so it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

She looked back at me and smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right.” She swallowed. “I just had to get out of there.”

“How did you do it?”

A half smile crept across her face. “I told Naomi—she was my maid of honor—I was going to the bathroom. I picked up my purse from the table, locked the bathroom door, and I just climbed out the window.”

“You did? Like Rachel on Friends!”

She shrugged. “I guess. It was pretty tricky. Small window, big dress. I kept thinking about how Winnie the Pooh got stuck, trying to get through a window. Luckily, that didn’t happen to me.”

I shook my head. Sabrina bore no resemblance whatsoever to the chubby Winnie the Pooh. “It was a gutsy move, that’s for sure.”

“I suppose . . . either that or cowardly. I mean, I could have talked to Todd, told him how I was feeling. Instead, I just bolted.”

 “It’s understandable. It was a heat of the moment thing. Why do you think you did it?”

“I . . . I guess I just saw my life flashing before my eyes. Marriage, kids, a picket fence in the suburbs. It was the future everyone else wanted for me.”

“And you didn’t want that?”

“No, I”—she hung her head as she played with a French fry—“I guess I realized I didn’t want it with Todd.”

“Todd is . . . was your fiancé?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “We were high school sweethearts, been together for over ten years. He’s a really great guy, he’s just not . . . The One. Do you know what I mean?”

I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. “Yup. I moved all the way from New Zealand to Florida for love, and he hadn’t turned out to be The One for me, either.”

And now I was stuck, treading water, going to endless weddings, trying to work out what to do with the rest of my life.

“That sucks,” she replied.

I shook my head, pushing the sorry state of my life aside. “So, let me get this straight: you didn’t realize he wasn’t right for you until you were about to walk down the aisle?” I raised my eyebrows in wonderment. I mean, I’d heard of brides leaving their grooms at the altar, but I’d never actually met one who had actually done it.

She shook her head, her high ponytail swooshing behind her. She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I’d been feeling it for a while. It all just came to a head, I guess. I should call him, explain.”

“Yeah, you probably should.”

“Soon. I’ll do it soon.” She picked up what was left of her burger and took another bite.

We sat in silence as we both finished our meals. Once done, she leaned back in her chair. “You said your last name is ‘Bloom’? You should become a florist.”

I laughed. “Actually, I am. I have this cute little flower shop in Orlando called Blooms on Valencia. I’ve had it for a couple of years now. It’s the one thing keeping me in Orlando, to be honest.”

Sabrina sat bolt upright in her seat. “Are you serious? I own a florist shop, too! My shop is in San Francisco. That’s where I live. It’s called The Flower Girl.”

“San Francisco?” I repeated, a little starry-eyed. “I have always wanted to go there.”

“Oh, you should come some time! It’s an amazing city.” Her face didn’t match her words.

“Are you telling me that or yourself?”

“No, it is, really. It’s just . . . going back there after what I’ve done? Todd will be devastated, and my mother?” She let out a groan. “My mother is going to kill me.”

I shrugged. “So, don’t go back for a while. Let the dust settle. People usually feel better about things when given some time.”

She nodded, rubbing her chin. “You’re right. I had to close the shop for a few days anyway, for the wedding and my honeymoon.”

“Exactly. You’ve got a free pass to get your head together.”

“In Baltimore,” she added with a smile.

“In Baltimore,” I confirmed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you getting married in Dallas if you live in San Francisco?”

“My grandmother lives here, and her only request was for her grandchildren to have their weddings at her estate. It’s a gorgeous place, and the reception was going to be on her lawn, under this huge white canopy.”

My eyes widened. “So you’re rich?”

It figured. Sabrina struck me as one of those people who led a charmed life—bolting from her wedding aside—the type of life I’d always wanted for myself but had never quite achieved.

“No, my family’s rich. My parents have always expected a lot from me, including the ‘wedding of the century.’” She did bunny ears with her fingers. “Mother and Todd’s mother basically planned the entire day, and Grandmother expected it to be here in Dallas. So that’s what we did. Well, almost.”

“Anyway,” she said, her tone brightening, “I remember going to Orlando as a kid. It was hot and sunny and the theme parks were so fun. It was the best vacation ever. I would love to go back there some time.”

“Yeah, they’re fun. Not that I’ve been in a while.”

When I first arrived, Jon and I had spent most weekends at the theme parks, indulging my inner child. We’d had so much fun, taking the rides together, wandering around the parks hand-in-hand.

I hadn’t stepped foot in one since we’d broken up, almost eighteen months ago now.

“Why not? I would go all the time if I lived there.”

It was my turn to look down. “Memories, I guess.”

“Ah.”

I took a gulp of my Coke, trying not to think about the current state of my life as the bubbles tickled my nose. Sure, my business was blooming—excuse the pun—and I loved it, but I had felt ready to meet the man of my dreams and settle down for some time now. And it wasn’t happening for me.

I needed something to mix things up—I just didn’t know what that “something” was.

“Maybe we should switch lives,” Sabrina said with a chuckle, taking a sip of her own drink.

I snapped my head up and looked at her. “What did you say?”

“I said, maybe we should switch lives,” she repeated. “Not that you would ever do that with someone, of course,” she added hastily.

“No, of course not! That would be crazy.”

“Totally,” she confirmed, knitting her brows together. “I mean, who does that?”

I shook my head. “I know, right?” I watched for her reaction. Nothing.

We slurped our drinks in silence.

“Although—” Sabrina began, and stopped. Had she thought better of what she was planning to say?

“Although . . . what?” I questioned cautiously.

She paused for a beat, two. “It’s, well, do you believe in fate?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you believe it was fate that we met? Here. Today.”

“Sure, of course. You needed some clothes, a way to merge into the crowd, and I was here to help out. That could be fate, or just good luck.” I grinned at her.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She rocked forward in her chair, leaning in to me. “Think about it, we’re both florists, we’re both unhappy with our lives. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

I nodded, tapping my foot on the floor as I took another sip of my Coke. “You’re right.”

Sabrina looked me directly in the eye. “Addison Bloom, what do you think about us switching lives? You go to San Francisco, and I’ll go to Orlando.”

Before I could stop it, I spluttered my mouthful of Coke all over the table, some of it onto Sabrina. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed. I picked up a dry napkin, stood up, and leaned across the table to dab at her—my—T-shirt. “I’m such an idiot. I’m can’t believe I did that.”

She located a second dry napkin and helped the cleanup process. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine, really, and it’s your shirt.”

The table cleaned and Sabrina’s T-shirt looking as good as it was going to before it met a washing machine again, we dropped the damp napkins in a pile on one of the empty plates.

“So, I gave you my shirt and promptly spat all over it. Do you feel special?” I asked.

“Totally,” Sabrina replied with a grin. “So . . . ?”

She clearly didn’t want to let this go.

Did I?

“So . . . should we switch lives?” I asked.

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “We could try it out, maybe for a few weeks, as long as things are going okay. Of course, we’ll have to stay in touch and help one another out with the shops and things, but this could totally work.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” The excitement at the prospect of living someone else’s life, a better life than my own, grew inside.

She nodded, resolute. “I am. Look, I know it sounds certifiably insane, but I need this. And I think you might, too.”

I bit my lip and nodded. Sabrina grinned at me.

And so it all began.

Three hours and a whole lot of talking later, we stood in line at Security, fresh boarding passes to our new destinations in each of our hands.

“You have to let me pay you back for this, okay?”

Sabrina smiled at me. “Sure. You’re going to love San Francisco.”

I tried to bite back my excited smile. I failed.

“You’re going to love Orlando.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Sabrina shook her head, her face beaming.

I was giddy with excitement as we shuffled forward in the line. “I guess you’re right; it’s fate.”

“I really believe it is. Why else would a storm come through at almost exactly the same time we met? This was meant to happen. I can feel it.”

We reached the scanning machines and I placed my purse and hand luggage in some trays. Sabrina put her wedding dress into another tray, trying in vain to squash it down so it would fit.

“You have a bag for that, miss?” a security guard asked, a look of disdain across her round, bespectacled face.

“No, I don’t, sorry,” Sabrina replied. “I didn’t really come prepared.”

The security guard—Trish, her nametag said—looked from Sabrina to the scrunched-up wedding dress and back to Sabrina again. “Oh, my. You’re the bride! Hey, Albert!” she yelled over her shoulder to the man operating the scanner.

“What?!” he yelled back.

“This here is that bride Sylvester was talkin’ about.”

Albert peered over the top of his machine, sizing Sabrina up. Her cheeks colored. I placed my hand on her arm, and she shot me a grateful look.

“You runnin’ away?” Trish asked.

“Oh, I’m . . . ah,” Sabrina stuttered.

“She’s taking a trip, just like rest of us. That’s all,” I said, shooting Trish a defiant look. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have some planes to catch.”

Trish raised her eyebrows, her eyes scanning up and down my body. “Is that so?”

I gave a firm nod, holding my ground.

“Well, in that case, good luck y’all,” Trish responded with a smile. “‘Specially you, honey,” she added, winking at Sabrina. “I think you’re real brave.”

We thanked Trish, walked through the body scanner, and collected our possessions. We made our way to the gate for Sabrina’s flight, which was due to depart first.

She dropped her dress on a spare seat and took my hands in hers. “Thank you, Addi. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Tears welled in her eyes once again.

“You too. Although, I still can’t quite believe we’re doing this.”

“I’ll send you a detailed email with everything you need to know.” She pulled out a set of keys from her purse, holding them by a fob. “This is my house key. You’ve got the address, right?”

I nodded, handing her my own set of keys. “I hope I left my apartment in a decent state, only, I had no clue I would be doing this when I left it.”

This is the final call for flight four two nine to Orlando, Florida. Would all remaining passengers please make their way to Gate D17.

Sabrina glanced at the podium and then back at me. “I guess that’s my flight.” She gripped my hands tightly before pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so glad I met you, Addison Bloom. I really believe you’re my guardian angel.”

“It was great to meet you, too,” I replied as tears stung my eyes.

She pulled away from me, turned, and walked toward the gate.

“Hey, Sabrina!” I called, collecting her wedding gown from the seat in my arms. She turned back and looked at me. “You forgot your dress.”

“Just leave it. I don’t need it, not anymore.”

And then I watched as she turned on her heel, handed her boarding pass to the check-in staff, and walked through the gate. Just before she disappeared out of sight, she turned and gave me a wave. I waved back, and then she was gone.

I looked down at the dress in my arms. A rush of emotion—a mixture of excitement, wonderment, and sheer panic—washed over me.

What had I done?