Page 16 of One More Shot
But right now, sat squashed between them with the remains of their interrupted movie night spread out in front of us, while they engage in a silent conversation about me, I can’t help but feel like a third wheel.
I stand up abruptly, sending another wave of popcorn rolling to the floor. ‘I’m not doing the wedding.’
Sasha blinks innocently up at me. ‘We didn’t say you should.’
‘But you should,’ Wes adds.
A rare spark of irritation towards the pair of them begins to simmer inside me. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Because how could they? What they have might not have been love at first sight, but it was definitely close. By their second date it was clear that Sasha was head over heels for him, and Wes has done nothing over the last four years to suggest that she was wrong. They just fit together. Like two perfect puzzle pieces who were always meant to find each other.
And me? I’m broken. There’s something wrong with me and the last thing I need to do is spend any amount of time with my biggest reminder of that fact.
So, yeah. Maybe it is a shitty thing to do. Maybe Iamgoing to leave Bailey and Cash hanging. But I don’t owe them anything. Not really.
Guilt twists my stomach into painful knots.
I can keep telling myself that, but it’s clear I don’t even believe it myself.
Chapter SixDANE
‘What do you think about orchids?’
‘I don’t think about orchids.’
From across the counter, Bailey shoots me a withering glare. Her hair is wrapped in a colourful scarf, she’s wearing one of Cash’s old Great Dane Construction Services T-shirts, and there’s a fresh mug of steaming tea by her side. It’s still early and, if I had to guess, I’d say she’s been up for less than thirty minutes. Which makes the look on her face – a death stare aimed in my direction – definitely something to worry about.
I reach across the counter and ignore her huff of complaint as I tug her laptop towards me. There are about fifty different windows open and they’re all wedding-related in some way. Dresses, invitations, decorations, venues, suits, bands and more all fill the screen. The biggest window open is filled with a seemingly endless stream of colourful bouquets, and her orchid question suddenly makes sense.
I raise a brow at my sister. ‘Didn’t you get engaged all of two minutes ago? Why’re you so stressed already?’
‘I’m not stressed,’ she murmurs. Her phone vibrates by her side and she immediately reaches to snatch it up. She holds her breath as she scans whatever it is that’s come up on the screen and, after a few seconds, she deflates slightly. Her shoulders slump and she lets her phone fall back onto the counter with a bang.
‘Hey.’ Cash is still in the shower – I can hear his slightly muffled voice singing along to what sounds like a medley of 80s hits – which means I can’t rely on him to explain whatever it is that’s going on with Bailey right now. ‘What’s happening here?’
Bailey looks at me for several long seconds and then shakes her head and sighs. ‘We’re not supposed to tell anyone yet. You know, in case it all falls through.’
‘Idon’tknow, actually.’
Her eyes narrow a fraction. ‘After I posted the engagement photos, a really big bridal magazine got in touch. They want to feature and potentially sponsor the wedding.’
‘Oh.’ I frown. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?’
Bailey’s an influencer and even if I still don’t understand exactly what it is she does every day, I know she’s good at it. Her follower count is close to a mind-boggling million and rising every day and, as far as I can tell, there seems to be a never-ending stream of brands flooding her inbox everyday desperate to work with her. Bridal magazines included too now, apparently.
‘It’sgreat,’ she says, her tone a little too forced. ‘It’s great exposure and it’ll introduce me to an entirely new audience. And then there’s all the money we’ll save. It’s just – and I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything – but I just didn’t think wedding planning would involve sending a list of potential flowers to a random editor I’ve never even met so they can approve them.’ Her nose wrinkles as she finishes her explanation, and I have to agree.
‘Doesn’t sound very romantic.’
She huffs out a dry laugh. ‘It’s not. Can you imagine sending someone a photo of your dream dress and them emailing back with a note that just says, “I think we can do better”?’
‘I still think you should get the dress.’ Cash’s voice comes floating from down the hallway and he emerges into the kitchen a few seconds later. He claps my shoulder as he passes me, then walks over to Bailey and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
‘You haven’t even seen it,’ Bailey murmurs, instinctively leaning into his touch. ‘What if it’s actually hideous, and the editor was right?’
‘You chose it and you like it,’ Cash says with a shrug. ‘You’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear, but I’d rather it be something I know you’re happy with.’ He pulls awayfrom her and makes his way to the kettle. ‘Get the dress, love.’
I swear, the smile on Bailey’s face right now could light up a small town.
