Page 2 of Dash to Me
With the promise of the wedding day drawing closer, the fear sets in. The flowers, the music, the tiny details—they are all pieces of a puzzle that I am determined to fit together.
ATLAS
The greyhound shudders to a halt,its doors groaning open to release a sigh of air. One by one, passengers disembark, but I’m the last to emerge. I unfold myself from the confines of my seat. The town still looks exactly the same. The storefronts with fluttering banners, the cobblestone pathways, the lush greenery framing the town square—memories etched into every corner.
My eyes rove across the crowd until they land on Tucker Williams, a beacon of red hair and freckles. His arm waving above the heads of others.
“Atlas, my man!” Tucker’s voice booms as he wraps me in a bear hug, the slap on my back resonating with years of camaraderie. “You wouldn’t believe the half of what’s been going on here.”
“Try me.”
“Alright, buckle up because it’s a rollercoaster. You remember the old Miller farm out by the creek?” Tucker begins without missing a beat. “Well, it’s turned into a full-on llama sanctuary now. Llamas, Atlas! And Marge Henley from the post office—she’s taken up salsa dancing. Says it’s for her health, but we all know it’s catching the eye of the new dentist.”
Tucker can always paint a picture so vivid it is like stepping into another world. It is good to be back.
Strolling alongside Tucker, I absorb the familiar sights of the town square.
“Alright, so get this—yesterday, right in the middle of the final fitting, the bride’s dress goes rogue. Zipper pops clean off, beads flying like shrapnel!” Tucker chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.
I raise an eyebrow. “No way. What did they do?”
“Miracle work, my friend. They’ve managed to snag a replacement from over at Bella’s Bridal Boutique—last one in stock and just her size. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” Tucker swipes a hand through his red hair.
“Sounds like they dodged a bullet.”
I raise my wrist, the silver of my watch catching the afternoon sun. The hands on the dial are creeping dangerously close to the hour.
“Let’s pick up the pace, Tuck. We’re cutting it close.”
The town hall comes into view, its red bricks weathered by time.
“Looks like a garden party erupted on the town hall steps,” Tucker quips, his eyes following my line of sight.
Among the flurry of pastels, one figure stands poised, her gestures measured, directing the others with an ease that spoke of practiced leadership. Eva Thorne, in a dress the color of sage. Her medium-length brown hair is styled away from her face, revealing the concentration etched into her hazel eyes.
“Hey, Lockwood, eyes up here.” He nudges my arm, a playful smirk lighting up his freckled face. “Eva’s got everything under control, as usual.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” I mutter, more to myself than to Tucker, attention lingering a moment too long on the Maid of Honor.
“Come on, we’ve got our own duties to tend to. Atlas? Earth to Lockwood.”
He blinks, and the spell is momentarily broken. I turn to find his eyebrow raised.
“Easy there, tiger,” Tucker quips, elbowing me in the ribs. “Remember, you’re Ryan’s right-hand man. No time for daydreaming about the Maid of honor.”
“Right. Best Man duties.” My eyes stole one last glance toward Eva, who is now navigating a minor crisis. Watching her work is like observing a conductor lead an orchestra—every move purposeful, every decision confident.
“Exactly,” Tucker says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s not keep the groom waiting.”
EVA
My fingers trembleas I lift the stack of place cards.
“Here.” a familiar voice says, and I look up to see Atlas. “Let me help you with those.”
“Thanks.” There is something about Atlas, with his effortless charm and warmth, that makes my heart flutter in a way I’m not used to—a sensation I attribute to nerves rather than attraction.
With both of us, it takes little time and we move to the reception hall.
