“My God, now that’s the kind of fairytale I dream about.”
And with that, we clean up quickly. Sophia kisses me, opening the back door towards the street after I straighten us both up, brushing my fingers against her cheek. I follow closely behind her, my body already ready for round two when we glance up from each other’s eyes, just long enough to see the man running towards us.
A man who shouldn’t be here. A man who should be getting ready for his own wedding.
Jesse Somerset storms towards us, his bowtie loose, dark hair tumbled around his forehead. His cummerbund is loose around his waist.
“Where is he?” He demands of Sophia. “Did he call you? God, because if he did, so help me, I will…”
Sophia stops in her tracks, me at her side, pulse thumping the entire time as confusion contorts the expression on my face. I approach Jesse, stepping forward so that he faces me instead.
“What the hell is going on, Jess? Why aren’t you preparing for your own wedding?”
“Because my dad disappeared from the halfway house last night.” He motions to Sophia. “Correction: Our dad disappeared last night. Skipped out on his parole officer.” He sighs. “And it looks like to make matters worse: Chris Jackson’s broken out of prison this morning… I thought you knew.”
I can see in Sophia’s face that she doesn’t. “Why would I know that at all?”
“Because of the Chris Jackson case, Sophia.” Jesse blinks several times. “He’s finally being tried for murder. And the victim…was Nancy’s dad. It was announced this morning, soon to be all over the news.”
The color drains from Sophia’s face as I reach out to hold her. A text buzzes from inside her small clutch purse. Fishing it out, she reads the surface of her cell, her lips straightening, skin paling as she looks up at me again.
Her bottom lip begins to shake.
“It’s Nancy… And I don’t know if she knows yet. How are we supposed to keep it from her? She’s on her way.”
I shake my head. Because I have no fucking clue.
I’m just as lost about my own father.
Seems our little motley crew was batting zero out of one hundred with our family trees.
Even after confessing everything to my brothers, I still hadn’t told Sophia the entire truth about my own dad. About how he was Marilyn’s father as well—her own sister-in-law.
And it seemed everyone’s family secrets were coming out of the closet. At least, in Sophia’s eyes, I’m sure. I wrap my arms around the gorgeous woman, sealing in her horror, hoping she’d forgive me when the day was done.
Damn that Jesse.
Stephen King couldn’t have scripted a more fucked up end to that fairytale ride.
Extended Epilogue
SOPHIA
Some secrets just couldn’t stay that way.
You can try to ignore them. Try to tuck them away, wrapping them in pretty holiday bows and stashing them away like Santa.
But eventually they would emerge.
And I’ve decided that’s my goal: To keep as many of them stowed away as possible. At least for the next four hours, until Jesse and Marilyn’s wedding is completely over.
And considering how we were but a breath away from Christmas, it only seemed appropriate that all of our secrets—no matter how gift-wrapped—were coming out of the closet, a fact that makes walking into the cathedral-like church with one huge secret frustrating as hell.
The only good part of some of our secrets creeping out from their hiding spaces were that, in several instances, they had brought us closer together.
After discovering Cynthia Stratford’s secret intentions to keep Noah and I apart, my brilliant, beautiful boyfriend had decided to let his cutthroat lawyer (and best friend) go—a decision I knew was eating at him some days. Once what Cynthia had done was out in the open, a hot topic of conversation at my brother’s wedding rehearsal, he and Noah had formed a sort of brotherly solitude, a bond that was building day by day.
Such a sad coincidence that the ill-intentioned lawyer believed she could tear Noah and my connection to shreds by revealing my father’s past, not knowing that he had one of his own—a fact I still haven’t revealed to him after Marilyn confessed it all.
Speaking of the devil…
My cell phone shrieks as Noah and I enter the steepled chapel, and my heart tap dances a terrifying number as I glance down at it, expecting to see another text from Nancy and instead finding Noah’s name on my screen.
His message practically screams at me.
MEET ME IN THE CHURCH’S BACK BATHROOM. Right. Now.
I can feel Noah’s breath near my hairline on my skin, he’s so close. But before I can turn to him, to address his text, Jesse is right beside me. Hiding my cell phone screen, I rotate towards him, my nerves still unsteady from the new news.
Not to mention the sex that’s still on my skin.
I inhale, breathing deeply, my chest hurting from the effort. I glance up at Jesse as he enters behind us, his brow still stuck in a knot. I reach a hand up to smooth my brother’s face.
“Fix that frown. Or Marilyn will fix you.”
“I know. But Soph, it’s…”
“Still your wedding day. And nothing else matters.” I focus my eyes on his, marveling at the similarity in their shape to mine. I lower my fingers. “At least not for the next four hours.”
His dark green eyes gleam. “Think I can keep news of my freak-out from Marilyn?”
I shake my head. “Hell, no. This is Mare we’re talking about here. But that’s doesn’t mean you don’t have to try.”
His jaw tilts. “Gahdammit. And I just signed up to attach myself to that little dirty-mouthed Nancy Drew for the rest of my life.”
I hold in a light laugh. “Try to work that in your vows. In the meantime…” I can feel Noah’s eyes still on me, that text message
