Page 18 of Crashing the Altar
Through all the curling and tugging strands of hair into place, I allowed my mind to zone out. If I thought too hard about what was set to happen in only a few short hours, I couldn’t guarantee my internal panic wouldn’t leak out and become known publicly.
As it stood, the week leading up to the wedding had felt like an out-of-body experience. It was as if I hovered above it all, watching on as Icareened toward this disastrous union, being the only one who could put an end to the madness, yet my lips remained sealed shut.
The walls were closing in, and taking breaths grew more difficult with each passing minute as the situation I’d put myself in threatened to suffocate me.
I knew marrying Jake was a mistake, but my stubborn self was dead set on seeing it through. Especially when the only person on this planet who had the power to talk me out of it wasn’t returning my calls or answering my texts, putting to bed the notion that we could ever be something more than “just friends.”
Tripp had abandoned me when I needed him most, leaving me heartbroken.
“What do you think, honey?” Quinn spun me around in the salon chair and offered a hand mirror so I could view her handiwork.
The style she’d created gave off a romantic vibe. Loose strands framed my face while the rest of my hair had been pulled into a curly chignon at the nape of my neck. Though I looked beautiful, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me through the reflective glass. She was too polished, too perfect. There wasn’t a single trace visible of the girl who’d grown up a tomboy on the ranch—the one who preferred to roll around in the dirt over playing dress-up or dolls.
This was the woman who would become Mrs. Jacob Wallace. It only made sense that her appearance would be a sharp departure from the girl who’d spent years foolishly practicing the signature of Mrs. Tripp Sullivan.
That girl’s dream would die today.
“Can I get another mimosa?” I held up my empty champagne flute.
My mother frowned at me from across my childhood bedroom, but it was Aspen who shut down that request. “Sorry, but two’s the limit pre-ceremony. Once we get you hitched, you can celebrate with bubbly to your heart’s content.”
Stifling a sigh, I set the glass down on the vanity. “All right.”
“I’m going to pop downstairs and check to make sure everything’s set before I send your father up to retrieve you.” Mama rose from the window seat, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress before slipping out of the room.
Once she was gone, I walked over to the window, taking a peek out back where the small ceremony would to take place. No more than a dozen folding chairs were set out, and the makeshift altar consisted of the wooden arbor from Aspen’s wedding, covered in fresh flowers.
Bex’s kind voice sounded from my right. “You sure you’re okay, Penny?”
I kept my eyes locked straight ahead. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m getting married today.”
She sighed, tugging on my elbow until I was forced to turn and face her. Concerned eyes searched mine. “You haven’t been yourself these past few days.”
“Weeks,” Aspen uttered the word behind a fake cough.
“For the past few weeks, really,” Bex corrected her earlier statement at her best friend’s insistence. “It’s just us girls here right now. If you’re having second thoughts—”
“I’m fine,” I cut her off, wincing when it came out more harshly than intended.
Bex clasped my hands in hers. “No one would blame you if you’re not. This came together really quickly.”
The last thing I needed was anyone feeding my doubts. I was at the finish line—or starting line, depending on how you looked at it—and I’d convinced myself that if I could make it through this day in one piece, I’d have no other choice than to settle into life with Jake. We had a lot in common, and I held onto the belief that somewhere along the way, I would find happiness with him as my partner.
“Seriously, Bex. I appreciate the concern, but I’m good. Better than good; I’m great.” I flashed her a bright smile. “Ready to get this show on the road, is all.”
Aspen shifted uncomfortably and hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Mind if I take one last bathroom break before we get started?”
“Of course.”
“Is it okay if I steal Bex for a minute? I know it’s usually the bride who needs help keeping her dress out of the toilet, but bending over is a real struggle these days, and I don’t think I can reach the hem.”
Genuine laughter bubbled up from my chest for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, go ahead.”
Aspen was halfway to the door, but Bex remained by my side.
“Go,” I shooed her. “A minute of peace is exactly what the doctor ordered.”
Our brunette friend wagged a finger in my direction playfully. “Don’t think I won’t ask him if that’s true.” Her husband happened to be the town’s primary family physician.
