34. Wildflower

34

Wildflower

Having A Crisis Over My Dying Twenties

Have you given any more thought to my proposal?

I sigh, deleting the text message and locking my phone before slipping it back into my purse. I should really just block his number, but the thought terrifies me somehow. I'm afraid of the damage he would do if he truly lost his access to me.

Plus, if he wasn't tormenting me, he'd be tormenting my sister.

"You haven't heard from Dad recently, have you?" I ask.

Her hands tense on the steering wheel, and I watch her glance in the rearview to check on Lou in the back, ensuring her earbuds are in. The music is so loud, I can hear it from the front seat, so I know there is no way she's listening.

"No, not in months. I've been emailing with Mom." Her eyes flicker in my direction. "Only every few weeks. Not often."

I nod. "And she never brings him up?"

Darby shakes her head. "Not at all. We mostly talk about wedding stuff. She seems…she seems happy for me." Chewing on her lip, she adds, "I suppose it's hard to convey tone in an email, but she at least appears enthusiastic."

"That's good." I force a smile.

I'm not getting married, but even if I was, I doubt it'd be enough to warrant a check-in from my mother. I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat, attempting to physically shake off the unease.

"You okay?" Darby asks.

"Yeah," I lie. "It's these damn panties you have me in. They're so uncomfortable."

That's not a lie.

Today is my thirtieth birthday, which is terrifying as fuck all on its own, but I'm being forced to spend the day in some upscale Beverly Hills bridal boutique, trying on dresses. The dress shopping I don't totally mind; it's just not how I'd prefer to spend my birthday. Plus, Darby insisted I wear the same undergarments I plan on wearing for the wedding itself so I can make sure everything fits correctly with my dress.

The panties are uncomfortable as hell, and my sister put me in one of her sundresses, which rides up on my thighs that are already sticking to the hot leather of her car seats.

I'd rather have spent my birthday laying in bed, having a crisis over my dying twenties and watching Love Island, Season Six specifically. It should've been my sister's birthday spent at her wedding dress fitting.

"I promise, you'll thank me for it later." She smiles to herself, eyes on the interstate in front of her.

We had to leave early to make our appointment, because apparently, she couldn't get her dress delivered at any other location than the one in Los Angeles, a nearly two-hour drive from Pacific Shores.

An hour and a half later, I'm lounging on the plushest couch I've ever had the pleasure of sitting on, stuffed with eclairs, watching my daughter twirl around the room in a poofy white dress with cap sleeves and gold accents. She picked it out as soon as we arrived and has refused to take it off.

Darby's in the back with her wedding coordinator, Macie, getting into her dress. I offered to go back with her, but she told me she wanted to surprise me. I know that's something typically done with the Mother of the Bride, but we don't have that option, so I'll have to do.

I tried on my dress when we first arrived— something Darby and I had picked out online. It's simple, sage green and satin, with off-shoulder sleeves, a wrap around the midsection, and tight at the waist and chest.

It made me feel beautiful, and I couldn't stop thinking about how Everett will react when he sees me in it. I still hate the underwear I have on—a silky thong that's supposed to smooth out any lines, but the wedgie it gives me is unreal.

Darby also forced me into a blue floral dress that has my breasts just about spilling over the top. It's your birthday. You should feel beautiful, she'd said as she thrust it into my arms before we left this morning.

It is my birthday, but somehow, I can't say no to her.

I'm smoothing out the fabric of the dress on my legs as Macie's head pops around the corner, her shoulder-length curls shaking with the movement.

She's a stunner, the kind of beautiful that makes you stop and catalog every single one of her features—bright hazel eyes, full lips, and a megawatt smile. Today's the first time I've met her, and I find myself sweating a little every time she speaks. I mean, she's one of the most approachable and personable people I've ever encountered, but I think I've got some kind of girl crush because she makes me nervous as hell.

I met her boyfriend, Dom, once when he stopped by Heathen's to have lunch with Everett and Leo. He rendered me speechless too. I'm both excited and terrified to see what kind of kids they cook up together someday, because holy shit… Talk about a beautiful couple.

"Are you guys ready to see her?" Macie asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Yes!" My daughter claps her hands together.

She smiles, ducking back down the hall before returning a moment later with my sister in tow. Breathtaking doesn't even begin to describe Darby, but as I struggle to catch my own, it's the only word that comes to mind.

Pure white, strapless satin fits her chest and waist like a mold made for her before cascading to the floor in smooth, flawless rivulets. She has on matching gloves to just above her elbow. It's effortless, elegant, and so utterly her .

What's truly striking, though, is her veil. Her hair is slicked back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and tucked into it, falling down her back and over her shoulders is a lace veil, embellished with flowers. Honeysuckles, I realize as I get a closer look. Small yellow, pink, and red honeysuckles are sewn into the fabric. They're sparse at the top, growing more frequent as my eyes drag down the length of it.

Macie helps her stand onto the platform in front of the mirror before bending down and fluffing out the bottom of her dress and smoothing down her veil.

Stepping back to stand next to me, Macie, Lou, and I watch her take herself in. I can see tears pricking at her eyes as she slowly runs her gloved hand down her waist, smoothing out the dress. She takes a deep breath before turning to face the three of us.

"Well? What do you think?" My sister's voice shakes as she asks the question, trembling with emotion.

"It's so much better than your last one," my daughter answers, ever honest. "You look like a princess."

A tear begins to bubble over, but Macie's on it with a tissue in hand, extending it toward Darby. She takes it, dotting at her eyes. "Thanks, Lulu."

"You look unbelievable," I say, feeling heavy with my own emotion. "How do you feel?"

She turns around again, meeting my eyes in the mirror. I'm taken back to the day of her wedding to Jackson, the way she looked at me through the mirror back then, to the devastation and hopelessness written across her features.

I'll never stop being thankful for the man who showed up at that church and helped her get away, because the way she looks at me now is full of hope and happiness. Because of him.

"It's everything I've ever wanted," she whispers. "Do you think he'll like it?"

"I think Leo's going to lose his goddamn mind ," Macie chimes enthusiastically. "He better watch his back, because I might just steal you away for myself."

My sister grins. "Well, you know how pretty he thinks Dom is. They probably wouldn't miss us."

We all laugh as I pull out my phone and begin snapping pictures of her for Monica, who was upset she couldn't come with us today due to a former engagement with her book club. Our appointment was originally set for the beginning of the month, but Darby had to reschedule it last minute, and the only day they had available before the wedding was my birthday.

Macie helps my sister step off the platform, and I wrap her in my arms. "You look so beautiful," I whisper. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you for being here." Her voice breaks on the words.

Darby and Macie head back to the dressing rooms, and I do the same with my very reluctant daughter. After a partial meltdown, I finally convince her to get out of her dress. The boutique staff pack our things for us while we say goodbye to Macie. We trade hugs, and she vows to set up a lunch date for the three of us, plus her best friend, Penelope.

It has been so long since I had friends, I almost forget how to act. It's another thing I convinced myself I don't deserve and can't find, but for the first time in a while, I feel hopeful at the prospect of it.

My sister is giddy as we grab the dress boxes from the reception counter and head out. Giving me a manic smile, she asks, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes?" I cock my head at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm great!" She's giggling as I push open the front door, and I look back at her like she's crazy.

Turning in the direction of where she parked her Mustang, I'm momentarily blinded by the mid-day sun, but as the brightness clears my vision, I'm stopping—stunned.

Parked in front of Darby's car against the curb is a vintage motorcycle, and standing beside it is a six-four monster of a man. Brown leather jacket over his shoulders, in a black tee with beige trousers, Everett is beaming at me as he leans back against the bike with his ankles crossed. In his hands is a massive arrangement of flowers—wildflowers, the names of which I wouldn't know, and the unmistakable dahlias erupting out of the bouquet.

I turn to my sister and daughter, who're both looking after me with shit-eating grins. Without saying anything, Darby slides the box with mine and Lou's dresses from my hands, and Everett steps onto the curb, extending the bouquet to me.

"Happy Birthday, Wildflower."