Page 4 of Sundown Somewhere

“Bren, will you grab Willa?” I ask, not having a clue where my sister is. “She’s best at damage control.”

“Damage control?” Gus repeats.

I nod, flicking my wrist upward to show off the envelope. A couple of gasps cut through the still air, and I assume they’re from Margeaux and Brenna, but I can’t tell. Regardless, the air shifts, sadness settling around us, my anger still raging through it.

“On it,” Brenna says.

“What do you need from us?” Milo asks.

“Once Willa figures out a plan, just make it all go away. I’m going to go take care of Dolly. She’s all that matters right now.”

All that’s ever mattered.

I leave them, making my way to the bridal room upstairs, dread filling me with each step. Dolly has been planning this day for three years. The event, I should say. When it comes to her wedding, she’s been talking about that for much longer than the three years that jack-hole drug out their engagement. There’s probably been two hundred and four versions of this day that she’s envisioned since we were kids. All of them epic and perfect.

Just like she is.

And it’s about to be undone in a matter of seconds.

Knocking on the door, I crack it open and stick my head in with my hand covering my eyes playfully. I might not be feeling it, but right now I can still play the part. “Everyone decent?”

A titter of giggles greets me, and I don’t even have to look to pick out the voices of Dolly and each one of her bridesmaids, her longtime besties Alice Evans, Emily Barrowcliff, and Rose Adler, plus her younger sister, Whitney. It’s a comforting sound, and I let it settle inside me, giving me the strength for this next part.

“Unfortunately for you, we are,” Emily quips.

I open my eyes, taking in the bridesmaids in their soft pink dresses that Dolly agonized over, worried about whether or not they would be able to use them again after. Each one of our friends looks beautiful—all prettied up for the special occasion. Any guy would be lucky to have them on their arm.

“Damn!” I joke, entering the room.

“Are we ready?”

The soft, sweet voice lights me up inside, like Tinker Bell sprinkling me with her fairy dust, the question piercing my heart. The juxtaposition of those feelings only gets worse as I turn and see the most stunning vision I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Dolly McLain in a wedding dress.

My best friend since we were nine years old, I can’t imagine my life without her. Looking at her now, all done up like she belongs on a billboard, my heart stops. She’s always been beautiful, but this is next level.

Medium height, blonde hair that shimmers in the sunlight like God wove glitter into it, with some extra meat on her bones that I know she’s always been more than a little self-conscious about—especially around some of the thinner girls around town, my sister included—she’s built perfectly. Although she’d probably filet me from groin to grin if she ever heard me refer to it as meat on her bones. I don’t care though, because whatever it is means she fills out a pair of jeans perfectly.

A body like a back road. Just like the country song says.

This wedding dress too. Damn.

“Hux,” Dolly giggles, pulling me from my trance. “We ready?”

I clear my throat, heart squeezing. Fuck, I don’t want to do this.

“About that…” I start.

“What?”

Her bright blue eyes sparkle like that diamond on her hand, and I know this is the worst thing I will ever have to do.

Here goes nothing.

“Jeff’s not here.”

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