Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
How much I look like Mom today is intentional. I used pictures of their wedding to style myself. I wanted to highlight how similar we look, but I’m only now realizing that subconsciously, I was hoping that by looking like her today, I could shape my upcoming marriage into one like hers and Dad’s.
There’s only one issue with that plan: my groom is nothing like my father. Roy’s not a bad guy—not at all—but Dad is basically Superman to me. Nobody compares to him.
“Thanks, Dad. For everything.” I tell him the same thing I told Mom, meaning every word of it. They’re the best parents I could’ve hoped for, and a shining example of what love is.
It ain’t always easy, but if you do it right, it’s the foundation for everything else in your life.
I’ve heard that phrase more times than I can count. To the point where we used to joke about getting it painted on a wood sign to hang over the couch. Actually, we should do that for Mom and Dad for Christmas next year. I bet they’d like that. And by we, I absolutely mean me. I’m the sibling who handles the group presents, along with everything else. That’s me—dependable, reliable, trusty, responsible Hope.
“Thank you, kiddo, for making an old man proud. You’ve always been your own person, known exactly what you wanted and never stumbled in chasing after it. Keep doing that, Hope. Follow your dreams.” He dips his chin once, like he’s practiced that speech dozens of times before and said exactly what he wanted to.
Follow my dreams.
That’s what I’m doing. Following a dream I’ve had for years.
Can dreams change?
I don’t answer the question, instead launching myself into Dad’s arms for a hug. There’s nothing Dad’s bear hugs can’t fix.
Maybe this clusterfuck?
He pats my back, careful not to mess up my veil, and then wraps my arm around his elbow. “We’d best get to getting down the aisle, or Lorie’s gonna kick my ass. Shep already escorted her down.”
My older brother, Shepherd, was supposed to walk with Mom and then sit with her. Dad will join them after walking me. Joy will stay by my side as my maid of honor. I wouldn’t dream of getting married without her.
“Last chance to run,” he jokes. I should laugh and tell him that he’s being silly, but we step around the maple tree’s trunk, and in the distance ahead, I can see everyone standing and turning to face us.
Run? What about fly? Not to Roy, but to a land far, far away, where I don’t know anyone or anything. Where I can be someone other than Hope Laurier.
But Dad’s leading me closer and closer to the crowd . . . to Roy . . . to my future.
Cold feet is a misnomer. I’ve got cold everything. It might be a warm June day, perfect for an outdoor wedding at the best spot in town—the place where dozens of happy couples get married every year—but my whole body feels like ice.
The next few minutes happen in flashes.
Dad kisses my cheek and shakes Roy’s hand before leaving me.
Joy smiles when she takes my bouquet, but her eyes look weird, like she’s yelling with them.
Roy’s hands are soft when he takes mine.
He looks at me and smiles—no, smirks. He seems . . . perfectly fine. Confident, with no nerves at all.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining of Roy Laurier and Hope Barlowe in wedded matrimony . . .”
Oh shit! I’m doing it! I’m actually marrying Roy Laurier.
I lose a second, or maybe a minute, staring at Roy. He’s good looking, always has been. He was the big man on campus in high school, and I was proud to be his. His hair isn’t quite blond and isn’t quite brown, but rather somewhere in between, and is stiff with gel today because he didn’t want the wind to mess it up. His lips are full, with a perfect Cupid’s bow, and behind them, I know his teeth are straight and white thanks to Dr. Payne’s orthodontics and cosmetic dentistry. His eyes have a dark rim around his blue pupils, and his lashes are sparse and straight. He’s quite a bit taller than me now, having grown several inches through high school and college. He says he’s six-one, but I know he’s five-eleven in his bare feet. It never mattered to me because I’m five-five and would never wear heels tall enough to make our heights even. He’s in good shape, especially since we’ve been going to the gym regularly to get in “wedding condition,” as he called it. I’ve lost ten pounds, and he’s put on that much in muscle.
Mostly when I look at him, I see my past, present, and future.
“I’d like to direct your attention to 1 Corinthians 13,” Judge Silverthorn says. He’s a friend of Roy’s dad, and Sheriff Laurier specifically requested that he officiate the ceremony.