Page 49 of Road Trip to Forever
I watch the bob of her throat as she swallows and lets out a quiet, “Yes.”
“I didn’t hate what just happened.”
Lola rolls her lips together and dips her chin. Just as I’m about to give her a promise of all the things I would do for her if she asked, the door flies open.
“There you are,” the wedding planner says, looking furious.Shit. “It’s time to go.” She snaps her fingers, and we jump into high gear. Lola fans her face. I take four steps back, praying that the armchair in the corner of the room shields how hard I am. “Patrick, I need you up at the altar.Now. Lola, you’re walking down the aisle first. We’re already two minutes behind schedule.”
“Sorry.” Lola smiles apologetically. That smile could stop wars. Make sinners drop to their knees and beg for forgiveness. Achieve world peace in a matter of seconds. “I had a dress crisis, but we’re ready now.”
She follows the wedding planner toward the door.
I move after her, feet shuffling on their own accord, and stop her with a touch to her elbow. Something unresolved hangs between us, and I’m not letting her out of my sight until I know she’s okay. Thatwe’reokay.
“Are we good?” I ask.
Her smile twists into something beautiful and secretive. Something happy and serene and mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
MyLola.
She dips her chin and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She adjusts the front of her dress and nods. “We’re better than good,” she says. “I’ll see you out there, Patrick. You’ll save me a dance, right?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “Of course.”
“Good.” She squeezes my hand and ducks out of the room.
I’m left staring after her.
FOURTEEN
PATRICK
“How much didyou pay the DJ to play the Macarena?”
I take a seat in the chair next to Lola at the wedding party table. The dinner plates are empty and drinks get topped off with a fresh pour of wine. The lights have dimmed and the real party is just getting started.
Jack’s jacket is in a ball at my feet while Rebecca’s shoes are sitting next to her water glass, and Henry lost his tie twenty minutes ago. I can’t find my cell phone. It disappeared after I snapped a picture of Lola smiling around a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
“I have no clue what you're talking about,” Lola says and takes a bite of her cake.
It’s her third slice of the lemon and raspberry dessert. The one she snuck under her dress during Noah’s best man speech when she thought no one was looking. I watched her tiptoe around the perimeter of the room, lift the hem of her gown, and hide the plate as best she could.
She didn’t do a very good job.
“Talk about ironic timing. We have a conversation about the worst songs to hear at a wedding, and suddenly, a monstrosity is playing from the speakers,” I say.
“Fate,” she says and licks her fork. “Okay, I paid enough to make it look like the deviation from a carefully curated playlist was an accident. No one is getting in trouble. Besides, Emma loved it.”
“I love accidents.”
“Me too.”
“Hey.” I tap her shoulder and point to the dance floor. “I think Henry told Emma about the dance lessons.”
The newlyweds move to a slow tune, the romantic song playing through the speakers—The Righteous Brothers’ version of “Unchained Melody.” They’re both grinning from ear to ear, and Emma is on the verge of tears as Henry whispers in her ear.
“They look happy,” Lola says.
