The Shippers(6)

“Who cares?” Cooper said. “You look epic.”

“The zipper’s broken,” I said, tugging at the collar. “So I’ll never get back out. This is basically my skin now.”

Cooper evaluated that idea. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said. Then, like it was a declaration: “I caught my breath when I saw you.”

“Did you really?”

Despite everything—despite the job he’d taken in London without telling me, and the texts of mine he’d ignored for four solid years, and his now-famous meanest wedding RSVP in history—the idea of Cooper catching his breath at the sight of me made me catch my own right back.

The truth feels good.

It was maybe the best feeling I’d had all day.

But before I could savor it, Mrs. Allen cleared her throat.

I looked over.

Oh, god. I’d almost forgotten.

She gestured at the sanctuary, like Ahem! We have a wedding to complete over here.

I turned back to Cooper with an apologetic shrug. “I have to go get married now.”

“Yeah—of course,” he said, gesturing at my future. “Get after it.”

“Okay,” I said. “And thanks for coming after all.”

Cooper gave a wry headshake. “Couldn’t miss it if I tried.”

“And you’re not forgiven for that RSVP, by the way.”

“Unforgivable,” he agreed. “Hold a grudge. I support you.”

“I might forgive you eventually,” I said, walking backward now, holding eye contact.

“Don’t even think about it,” Cooper said.

Mrs. Allen was eyeing Cooper like he might be about to mug me as she came forward with my beige bouquet to usher me on. She signaled the organist, and spun me around by the shoulders to face the aisle, and was about to push me through the doors—when I heard Cooper’s voice behind me one more time.

“Joey!”

I turned back. “Kinda busy here,” I said as he jogged to catch up.

As he reached me, Cooper nodded, like I get it. Then he put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing a little, like he was steadying me.

My bare shoulders, I should note. Under his bare hands.

Next, Cooper said, “You’re okay, right?”

I frowned like he’d lost his marbles. “Of course I am.”

“Because you look—”

“Beautiful, right? You said. That was so weird.”

“Beautiful—yes. But you also look—”

Then, before I could think better of it, I finished for him: “Like I’m about to call off the wedding?”

Cooper stilled.

I stilled, too.

Then he pulled in a breath and said, “Are you?”

“I thought that’s what you were going to say.”

“I was going to say, ‘You look a little nervous.’”

“Because I’m not calling it off,” I said. “Why would you even think that?”

“I didn’t think that,” Cooper said.

Now we had ourselves a standoff.

We stared into each other’s eyes.

Right then, the organist began the processional—a baroque-hits favorite of the Richmonds’ that launched with a howl of menacing horror-movie chords.

Wait—did I have a pebble in my shoe?

I handed Cooper my bouquet for a minute so I could grab his shoulder for balance with one hand and pull off my pump with the other.

“What are you doing?” Cooper asked.

“I’ve got a pebble in my shoe,” I said, shaking it out.

“What is it with you and pebbles?” Cooper said.

But as I straightened up to take back my bouquet, Cooper tugged me closer by the waist and leaned in so close his breath tickled my ear. And then he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?”

“What?” I asked.

“It’s pretty easy,” he said then, “to fake a faint.”

I pushed back and glanced toward the sanctuary. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It’s not,” Cooper said, lifting his hands in innocence. “Just random trivia.” But then he leaned back in. “The trick is to roll as you hit the floor so you don’t hit your head.”

I flared my nostrils at him. Then, for my official response, I flipped him off.

Cooper feigned shock at the gesture and said, “You can’t do that in a bridal gown.”

“It’s not my bridal gown,” I pointed out.

But with a wry headshake, Cooper said, “It is now.”

That’s when Mrs. Allen got aggressive and tapped me on the shoulder. Hard.

I took another step back. “Time to go.”

“Congrats on your wedding,” Cooper said with a little salute. “And don’t forget what the firefighters say.”

“The firefighters?” I said, falling for it. “What do they say?”

Cooper tilted forward just a little, like You got this. Then, with an infuriating micro-nod, he said, “Stop, drop, and roll.”





Three


WHEN I STEPPED into the sanctuary to take my dad’s arm, my dad wasn’t there.

Of course.