Page 79 of The Masks We Burn

I’ve been numbing myself to the knowledge that in just a few minutes, I’ll be walking down the aisle across the forest with him.

There is no amount of preparation I can do for when I see Will, but I know one thing—I’m going to communicate. I’m going to tell him how I feel and explain to him what he means to me. What everything he’s done has meant to me.

I don’t plan to ask him to give us a second chance—I don’t think it’s fair, but I do want to make amends. And I would give anything to at least have him as a friend.

“You’re crying.” Remy appears next to me, nearly making me jolt. “Sorry. Here.”

I take a small tissue and dab. Sure enough, it comes away from my face wet.

“It’s an emotional day. Weddings bring that out in people.”

Nodding, I dispose of the napkin and walk with her and the other girls to meet the coordinator and Mina near our entrance spot. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Are you excited? Just a few more weeks now.”

A smile spreads across my face, my heart swelling in my chest. In three weeks, the shop I’ve worked tirelessly on—Sugar and Spice Anime Café—will be open to the public. Designing the layout, getting merchandise, picking a menu, and hiring artists have been some of the absolute funnest things I have done in my life. But also, the paperwork has sucked massive balls.

I had to apply for licenses, permits, and all the other legal tidbits that come along with the territory. Everything has been horrendous and a complete bore since half of it went a little over my head, but my tycoon of a father has helped me with all of it. He’s even helped with the fun stuff.

It’s been nice to get to be with him in this way. I’ve seen so much more of him in the past few weeks than I have my entire life. It’s almost like meeting the man for the first time, and I’m so fucking sad I didn’t know him before. He’s amazing.

Mother still hasn’t come around, but that’s okay. I don’t need her to. Lily told me there’s just some people you won’t be able to get through to, and it’s my job to learn that it’s not ameproblem.

I work at it every day, little by little giving up some of that resentment. Some days it feels like an uphill battle, but then some days it doesn’t bother me. Mostly when I’ve picked out a new silverware set for my apartment, or kept a plant alive for more than a few days.

It’s those little things that remind me I was right all along, and she didn’t have enough faith in me.

I got this.

And there’s only one more loose end I need to tie up.

What’sthe name of that guy that flew close to the sun? It was a man from Greek mythology—one of my favorite classes at Whitman, actually. When you hear his story, it’s natural to ask why he would take such a risk. Even more so for people to say he deserved it for not heeding the warning to not fly so close.

But have you ever felt the sun on your face after being in the dark? After being without the warmth for days on end?

If you have, then you get it. If not, then you won’t understand how I feel right now.

Because I am Icarus, and Amora is the goddamn sun.

When I’d seen her across the street, I was far enough that I didn’t feel her warmth and pull like I do now. It has the strength to pull me straight to my death, and I wouldn’t even mind the crash and burn.

Amora stands a few yards ahead with the other bridesmaids lining up on the opposite end of the entrance. Like the other women, she wears a long gray dress that somehow lays slack over her frame but defines every curve. Her pink locks have been brushed into a low bun, leaving her neck exposed, and I can’t seem to force my eyes away.

“Giving off some serious creepy vibes right now, man.” Spencer jabs me playfully in the ribs, forcing my eyes to snap his way, narrowing in mock annoyance.

“Says the guy who once watched his bully masturbate in a treehouse.”

Spencer laughs out loud, drawing the attention of the entire wedding party. When I glance back at the women, a pair of perfect blue eyes are on me.

My heart surges in my chest, almost as if it’s about to jump straight out of my throat and land at her feet. I rub at the strange sensation just as the wedding planner moves her to the back of the line for the processional order.

I swallow around the heavy pulse and turn back to Spencer. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready since the day I saw her with a yellow ribbon in her hair when we were kids. This is just a formality.”

“You’re a good man. Your mama would be proud,” I say softly, patting him on his shoulder. Mrs. Hanes was an angel that walked this earth, and every day I see her through him.

He nods, pursing his lips as he blinks his eyes to bat away the moisture. “You… umm—You got the ring?”

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