Page 8 of Snowed In with Benefits

“Can always count on you two to show up when I’m cooking.” He gestures at me with his spatula. “Josie and I were just getting to know each other better.”

“Good,” Emmett says, his voice rolling like thunder in the distance. “Then she can explain how she ended up out here with no coat and no boots, but with a full wedding dress.”

6

JOSIE

My stomach flips. The room falls silent except for the sizzling of Hunter’s cooking. This wasn’t a question I’d wanted to answer, and up until now, everybody’s been real good about talking around it. I wasn’t expecting the directness of the question. I swallow hard, trying to think of what to tell them.

I can’t just tell them I went on an impromptu vacation without thinking it through. That wouldn’t make sense, not with the wedding dress. I could explain my honeymoon clothes away, but not the wedding dress.

Hunter opens his mouth, but closes it again quickly when Emmett shoots him a look. He was probably going to give me an out, he seems like the type. Emmett, however, seems like the type to expect a straightforward answer to his straightforward question. Honestly, he deserves nothing less. He did drag me in out of the cold, after all.

I glance to my left to find Beau looking hastily away. He’s probably studying my face. That’s what he was doing in the living room earlier, when he walked in on me. He was just standing there, studying me until I reacted. I wonder what I look like through his eyes. He seems so guarded but so arrogant at the same time.

Listen, I tell myself. It’s not like you’ll ever have to see them again after tomorrow. You might as well tell the story now, to strangers, before you have to explain yourself to the people who know you.

I take a deep breath. “It was supposed to be my wedding day today. It was going to be a beautiful winter wedding before the holidays.”

“Kinda figured,” Beau mutters. Emmett shuts him up with a look.

I swallow hard and push forward. “When I woke up this morning, it felt inevitable. Like I was already on a moving train going to a destination I couldn’t control. I accepted it. I had all my bridesmaids there and we had a little breakfast with our mimosas, and I just couldn’t eat or drink anything. I figured it was just nerves. It was going to be a big wedding, everybody was going to be looking at me, and that thought just killed my appetite.”

Hunter adds a spice to the food, as though listening to me talk about how little I ate this morning inspires him to make his food more palatable. Not like he has to try, it already smells like heaven.

“There was supposed to be a limo coming to the house to pick us up, but it never showed. I had to call Preston to make sure it was coming, but he forgot to set it up, so we were going to have to drive ourselves. I started to panic then, but I figured I was just being a bridezilla who was freaking out about things not going exactly my way.”

The three of them exchange looks. I ignore them.

“Anyway,” I continue, picking at my fingernails. “We went to the church. I sat in the back seat of my own car while my friend—I guess she’s my friend, she’s one of Preston’s friends and we got along fine, I guess, fine enough for her to be in my bridal party anyway—she drove me in my car.”

I don’t know why I’m giving them all the details. For some reason it feels important to point out that it wasn’t my friends who were gathered around me in this moment, but people from Preston’s circle. I wouldn’t have even known who to call if it was up to me to put my own friends up there. That’s sad, isn’t it? I move on quickly, unwilling to be distracted by the disaster of my life.

“I was in the bridal room getting my hair and makeup done when this pit gathered in my stomach. I figured it was because I hadn’t eaten much, so I asked one of the girls to get me a snack before my makeup was finished. She brought me three cookies and I barely ate one. I just couldn’t get through it. Everybody was talking about how I was going to be the most beautiful bride, how⁠—”

I cut myself off, gulping air. The memory of being stuck in that room with all the well-wishers is making me feel claustrophobic. I shift in my seat, stretching out to remind myself that I can.

“—how after today I’d be Mrs. Preston Lebond, and I could feel myself disappearing. Mrs. Preston Lebond. Why is it that the whole name gets taken from a woman once she gets married? It’s old-fashioned and gross.”

Nobody answers my question. That’s okay, it was rhetorical anyway, and now I’m talking too fast for them to get a word in edgewise. It’s all just pouring out of me, the memory of the day.

“Then my mother came in and told me how proud she was of me. How she was so happy that she was going to have two sons-in-law that she could brag about, how even though I’m not as skinny as Courtney—Courtney is my sister—that I still look just as beautiful in my wedding dress, that I’m marrying the perfect guy, and that pit in my stomach just kept getting bigger and bigger.”

I’m not even looking at them now. I’m staring at my fingers, fiddling with my nails, just trying to get through the story without screaming, crying, or throwing up.

“Then it was time. I was shaking. I couldn’t breathe. My dad practically dragged me down the aisle because my feet were like wooden blocks. I saw Preston up there waiting for me. Perfect Preston, with his perfect tux and his perfect smile and his perfect glistening eyes and I felt like I was going to throw up.”

“Magical,” Beau mutters. I’m getting the feeling that his sarcasm is a steady undercurrent around here.

“Yeah. Magical. The whole place was decked out in magical decorations, the wedding party was magically festive, the glitter on the blue rose petals was magical, the whole thing looked like something out of a Christmas Hallmark movie. It was beautiful and magical and perfect and I⁠—”

And I wasn’t. I bite my lip before that last part comes out. It wasn’t true, after all. My hair, nails, makeup, and dress were all perfect. I was walking up the aisle in a shell of perfection, with all the ugly imperfect thoughts locked tightly away inside, roiling in my gut, making the whole beautiful moment feel like a nightmare.

“I couldn’t handle it,” I finish weakly. “I was on my dad’s arm, we were almost at the altar. The music was so loud. The officiant was smiling at me. Preston was smiling at me. He reached out to take my hand. My dad kissed me on the cheek and stepped aside, moving my hand from his arm to Preston’s open hand. As soon as I touched him, I⁠—”

My throat tightens. I can still see the confusion and betrayal on Preston’s face. I swallow hard, getting rid of the lump in my throat. The guys are all silent, just listening to me pour out my shame one cup at a time.

“I took my hand back. The music stopped. Everybody was quiet, confused. I was looking at Preston and my feet just moved. Away from him. I turned away from him and I saw my mother looking at me, shocked. I hate it when she looks at me that way, and she hasn’t ever since I got engaged to Preston, but now… anyway, I just needed a minute to pull myself together, but there were so many people, and Preston was waiting, and it was now or never, so I… I chose never. I ran down the aisle. I could hear people gasping and shouting after me, but I didn’t stop. I heard the girls in my wedding party talking loudly about how they know I didn’t forget anything, so what’s the deal? Everybody was stunned and confused, and⁠—”