Chapter 1
"Look better than the bride at her own reception.”
Gaby’s words echoed through the hollow chambers of her mind as she straightened the red dress she had gotten from the local dress shop. It was off-shoulder and revealed more skin than she’d normally liked, but Gaby had insisted it looked divine on her.
She should never have listened to her friend. She was not to be trusted. The bold colour should have been a red flag - pun intended. But there was a part of her that wanted Gaby to be right. She wanted to look divine.
“You can do this!” she whispered to the girl - woman - in the mirror. She was a woman. If the bride - also, nineteen - called herself a woman, so could she.
“You ready, honey?” She turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing a pale yellow sundress. It amazed her that no matter what her mom wore, she was
effortlessly beautiful. People said as much. She turned heads wherever she went. How she wished she could be like her.
She nodded. She could get through this wedding. It was only a week. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
I can do this.
….
I can’t do this.
Not by a long shot.
The moment she stepped foot in the lavish beach house, she realised that this had been a mistake. She should never have come. She felt her chest tighten and her breathing get shallower. She could feel her heart rate climb. She-
A squealing couple of children ran past her, a little boy and a girl, maybe eight or nine years old. The boy had something in his hand and the girl was chasing him. Unsuccessfully.
“Give it back!” I shrieked at the brown-haired boy running in front of me. I huffed. I wished she could keep up with him. The fact that he was four years older didn’t help. If I could keep up, he wouldn’t be running around with my favourite toy in his hand, threatening to throw it in the ocean.
“Mommy!”
“Mommy can’t help you, little girl,” the boy hollered.
He infuriated me. “I could chase you all day long!” I screamed.
She blinked and the memory faded away replaced by the sight of a beautiful brunette beaming at the mother-daughter duo.
“You made it!” Aunt Clara said. She had her hands outstretched and enveloped Madeline in a warm hug like she had done every year for the past nineteen years.
“Barely!” mother huffed. “I don’t remember traffic being so much around these parts.”
“Well, that’s what happens when more and more people want to settle along the beach,”
she laughed. “Come on in. I’ll get you two settled. I’m so glad you could come for the wedding.”
“Maddy’s so excited, I saw her trying on her dress all morning!”
“Oh, my! Is that true Maddy?” Aunt Clara turned to her with a bright smile. Madeline resisted the urge to let out a groan. She’d wished mom hadn’t mentioned that detail. It hadn’t been all morning.
She let out a sigh of relief when we saw Rocco bounding toward them at warp speed. Tongue hanging out and ready for the salivatory of kisses.
The black labrador never failed to make Madeline smile. He greeted them with a sloppy lick and the constant wagging of his little tail. A smile made its way to Madeline’s lips, but it didn’t last long.
Because there, on the couch in the living room sat the groom-to-be. He had his phone in his hand and stared up at her over the rim of his black nerdy glasses. But he looked anything but nerdy.
She mustered a tentative smile but received a scowl instead. Charming.
“Here ya go,” he handed me the bowl of noodles he’d just made and switched on the TV. The Fairy Odd Parents played on TV and I smiled. Everyone else had been down for their afternoon nap.
Well, except for his Aunt Paige. She loved sitting with the kids. But she couldn’t have chosen a worse time to sit with me because just as I had shoved a fork full of noodles in my mouth she asked, “So Madeline, what grade are you in now?”
Being the complete nerd that I was, I wanted to answer her. Wanted to show her how proud I was of the fact that I had been top of my class and had just gotten into the 5th Grade.
So, I opened my full mouth and tried talking and noodles fell out of my mouth like a stringy chunky waterfall. It was embarrassing. So embarrassing.
I was mortified. But as I looked up at him, sitting across the room on the opposite couch, I saw him snickering! The worm had the audacity to snicker at me! But I couldn’t deny the fact that had made me feel a little better.
“Adam!” Aunt Clara admonished, “Is that how you greet your guests? I’ve taught you better, young man!”
He grunted. Stood up and left the room.
Wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m sorry about that, Sara. He’s just been stressed about the wedding and the move.” She let
out a nervous laugh. “Can you believe it? A boy stressed about his wedding?”
“Move?” Madeline’s head whipped to the two women. What did she just say?
“Ah, yes,” she said as both women took a seat. “Elena has a job in Boston so she can’t move here.”
“But-but this is home!” Madeline stuttered but then caught herself. She took a deep breath and continued, softly, “Adam has his whole life here.”
“He says he can easily relocate to the office in Boston.”
“But-”
“Maddy,” mom said, pointedly looking at her, clearly disappointed by her daughter’s rudeness. “Why don’t you go get us a drink?”
The girl pressed her lips in a thin line and nodded. She knew she had overstepped her boundaries. She had no right to demand anything of the Carlisles even if Aunt Clara was mom’s best friend. But she couldn’t stand the thought of Adam moving away for good.
She could hear the ladies from the kitchen. Aunt Clara was telling mom all about Elena’s job and her father’s restaurants. She hadn’t met this Elena yet, but she already hated her.
“You’re gonna spill it.” Maddy jumped in her spot and the orange juice she had been pouring in a glass spilt all over the countertop. “I told you so.”
Adam stood in front of the fridge with a bottle of milk in his hand and another memory flashed before her eyes.
An eleven-year-old Madeline making French toast with Clara while Adam sneaked a sip of milk from the fridge and eventually getting caught. The French toast burning. A slice of bread hitting the floor as she tried to flip it.
Eleven-year-old Madeline didn’t know how to work a pan and spatula.
That memory morphed into the awful scowl that graced Adam’s features ever since she’d walked in.
“What are you smiling about?” He snapped and stomped out of the kitchen. It was then that Madeline realised that she had a goofy smile on her face.
