Chapter Five

Hallie

A blog. How was I supposed to write a blog when I couldn't even come up with its name? My thirty-minute break was nearly over, and the screen was still blank. I was counting the number of times the curser blinked and comparing it to the pounding through my head.

"My soup is cold."

"You should have eaten it when it got here," I said to Harold without looking up.

"Listen to how hard this breadstick is." He tapped it against his tray.

He was correct. It sounded like plastic on plastic. But the lunch had been delivered nearly two hours ago. Harold's own stubbornness left him with a less than appetizing meal. It had interrupted his favorite soap opera—a big no-no in this room. No one came in here when it was on, but now the strike against the kitchen staff was fighting his rumbling stomach.

"Dip it in your cold soup. That will soften it."

"You're pissier than I am today, blondie."

I sighed, slapping the laptop shut. He was right. And even though I knew he was, I shook my head no. Harold grinned, being his cocky self, dipped his breadstick into the soup and bit it with an exaggerated chew.

"Delicious."

For the first time today, I giggled. "Liar."

I hadn't touched my own food—two tacos and a bowl of seasoned potato rounds. I selected one, and without leaving my chair, stretched to place it on Harold's tray. It was followed by a handful of the potatoes. They may as well have gone to him, because they were bound for the trash.

"What's the matter with you?" he questioned as he picked up the taco first. "You've been quiet today. What are you working so hard on over there?"

"Apparently, I'm becoming a blogger," I said. "I do not know what I'm doing or what I should name my blog."

"Uh, huh?" He grunted. "This is why you are huffing and puffing?"

No. It wasn't. This blog—the one that seemed stupid until I needed something to fill my time—was supposed to take my mind off this evening. It wasn't working. I had no one to vent to, and now poor Harold was about to hear it all.

"My best friend is getting married," I said. "Tonight is her last dress fitting, and I promised I would be there. But we had a fallout."

"A fallout," Harold repeated while dabbing a napkin at the corner of his mouth. "Over...?"

It seemed stupid when saying it aloud. No one understood how important the promise was except Sloan and me. Apparently even Sloan thought it was stupid, because she broke it easy enough.

"I don't have parents." I tossed a potato into my mouth and chewed. "Neither does she. It's how we met. But she took one of those DNA testing kits for ancestry and found her dad. She didn't tell me she was doing it, and I don't know, we always said we wouldn't. It hurt. She could have at least told me before doing it."

"You sound jealous."

My eyes rolled. Jealousy was not it. "I have no desire to find my parents."

"Maybe that's not what you're jealous of."

He had my attention. I dropped my chin to my fist and waited to hear what I was jealous of.

"You said she's getting married," Harold continued. "She's starting a family of her own."

That couldn't be it either. Ollie knew what he was getting into with Sloan. I was part of the package. Nothing was impeding on a friendship that had lasted all these years. Especially not a guy. The last two years of Ollie being around more than proved nothing was changing—other than he stole Sloan away to live in a cute house and left me to rot with his idiotic brother.

"Yep. You're jealous." The taco crunched as he took another bite. "You wanted a reason to be mad at her."

"I do have a reason to be mad." I yanked my backpack from the floor, stuffed the closed laptop into it and zipped it shut. "I'm also tired. My roommate is making my life a living hell."

"Maybe you're making their life a living hell."

I cackled. That settled it. Harold was way off today. I wasn't jealous of Sloan, and I sure as hell was not making Mikah's life a living hell.

"Harold, isn't it your nap-time or something?"

>><<

It was canning day. Confirmed by the sweet smell of strawberries and sugar. The scent hit me before I had entered the house as it wafted through the screen door. Jodi meticulously cared for a garden all summer just for this day. From salsas ranging from sweet to spicey, and every kind of pickled vegetable, to a jam for every color of the rainbow, she would begin at dawn and wouldn't stop until the pantry was stocked. Every single surface of the kitchen was covered in mason jars or stacks of fruits and vegetables, leaving not even a seat for me to steal during my visit. I picked up a massive bowl of green beans and held them in my lap just to take the stool they'd been on.

Eighty's rock was to blame for Jodi not realizing I'd stopped by on the way to the dress fitting in the city. She was singing along, swinging her hips and giving the strawberry jam a continuous stirring. I made myself useful, topping and tailing the beans, as I waited for the inevitable scream that was about to happen when Jodi realized someone was behind her. When the song faded to transition to the next, I took my opportunity.

"Hello."

"Oh!" Jodi turned and smacked her chest with the same hand holding the wooden spoon. A dollop of red goop clung to her bare shoulder. "Hallie!" She exhaled. "You scared the shit out of me!"

I grinned, proud of a job well done.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, grabbing a towel to clean the mess.

Feeling obligated wasn't an answer anyone would want to hear. I had basically ignored all the messages about Rick leaving for the nth time. And while I didn't enjoy visiting, that was the best time to visit. The calls hadn't stopped all week. Calling back after this long seemed ruder than necessary. Jodi loved when I visited, and this would make up for it.

"Sloan's last dress fitting is today. It was on the way. Also, may I borrow your suitcase? I don't have one for Mexico, and I really don't want to buy one. I go nowhere."

Jodi continued to dab her shoulder with a dampened cloth. "Of course you can. Lord knows, it gets no use from me. It's in the basement."

My jaw clenched as my eyes shifted to the closed door beside the pantry. "Can, uh, can you just have it ready for me to pick up on my way back through town? I don't have enough time to go digging for it."

Jodi waved me off. She opened the closed door and placed one hand on her hip. "Rick? Hallie needs the suitcase. Do you see it? I think it's by the Christmas tree box."

"I thought you said he left?" I stood, putting the beans back where I'd found them, now more eager to leave than I was a minute ago. "When did he get back?"

"Last night." Jodi beamed. "You know how he is. He always remembers how good he has it at home and returns, eventually."

Jillian passed through the kitchen with an eye roll. The only reason she entered was to leave it again. It was the only way to the front door. Without a word, she left the screen door to smack shut in her wake. My adoptive sister was never excited about anything, and usually it was annoying. But I had to agree with the look that was a response to Jodi being excited Rick was back.

I waved at the screen door, even though Jillian was already gone. "Good seeing you too, sis."

"She's so antisocial," Jodi agreed. "We're supposed to work on it with her."

"Good luck with that," I muttered. The two of us couldn't have been more opposite. Sloan was more of a sister than my sister was.

"Is this the one?" Rick's voice made my stomach sour.

I turned to the open doorway. First seeing a vintage blue suitcase, and then Rick as he held it lower upon hitting the landing of the kitchen. I swallowed hard, waiting to hear the one phrase I hated more than anything.

"There's my princess!" he said, on point.

Gag.

"Thanks, Rick." I accepted the luggage, ignoring the term of endearment. "I have to get going, or Sloan is going to kill me for being late."

"Oh! Take a pepper jam," Jodi said. "I made those just for you."

I grabbed the jar Jodi had pointed towards and waved goodbye before they'd find something else for me to take back home. Unfortunately, it was just in time to watch Rick goose Jodi and listen to her squeal and erupt in the most annoying giggles that would end with them in their bedroom.

They were gross.

>><<

La Rosa Blanca Bridal wasn't far from where Sloan and I grew up. As teens, we lived for days when the dresses in the window were swapped out for the latest trends of the season. From long to short, and simple to extravagant, there was nothing more beautiful than a wedding dress. You saw no one leave there unhappy. And if you caught them on the day they found the dress, those were the best.

Even though Sloan could have gone anywhere in Chicago, according to Ollie and his offer to use his credit card, there was never a doubt where she'd pick her dress from. She refused to even step foot in the building with her first wedding to Steve, believing the wedding was just for show while the marriage was to get him health insurance. I knew she regretted that later, after she'd fallen crazily in love with him. Even I regretted not treating her as a proper bride. Now Sloan was doing this right.

The door chimed above my head, sending a stare from everyone in the small shop in my direction. With nerves still unsteady from visiting Jodi and Rick, they would get worse with talking to Sloan for the first time in over a week. For now, my bestie wasn't in sight. Ollie's sister Kit, however, was waving from a dressing room area for me to join. Meanwhile, Kit's daughter was running from rack to rack, hiding beneath dresses that were more like tents to a toddler.

"Where's Sloan?" I asked and dropped my jacket to hang over my arm.

"With the seamstress."

I followed Kit, the only other bridesmaid in this wedding, to an octagon shaped room lined with mirrors. In the center was a pedestal for brides to stand on and view the dress from all sides. The room made me sick with wedding envy. It was decorated to the nines with white and red roses—to set the scene for their brides. The only time I'd ever come close to being a bride was with my ex, TJ. There was never a ring or a proposal, but it was just known that we were going to marry. We'd even begun looking at venues. It still stung that I never made it this far after so many years with him. Now he was married to someone else—the woman he'd cheated on me with. Still, as I took a seat with Kit on a bench to wait for Sloan to appear, I told myself that Harold was still wrong. I wasn't jealous of Sloan right now. Ollie was perfect for her, and Sloan deserved to be happy with him.

"She was worried you wouldn't show," Kit said.

I dropped my head against the wall and glanced at Kit, feeling like a shitty friend but also tired of having to explain myself. "I might be mad, but I would never miss seeing my best friend in her dress. I'm not upset that she found her dad. I'm angry that she didn't tell me she was going to break a promise that meant a lot to us both."

"I didn't mean to hide it from you." Sloan sniffled as she entered the room. I turned to see my friend in a silk robe with her arms wrapped around herself. "I wish you would have just let me explain."

Seeing Sloan cry was the worst. She'd spent an entire year of her life in tears while I tried to break her out of it. Now I was the one causing it. Mirroring my best friend's emotions, tears trailed down to my neck. Kit was on it, crying along with. She was already pulling at a tissue box they had ready for friends and family who couldn't keep their shit together while watching a bride find their dream dress.

"You promised." I used my wrist to push the tears off my face. "That hurt so bad, Sloan."

Sloan's head shook. "I had to do it."

"Why?"

"Alright." A petite seamstress arrived with a hanger in one hand, and lace draped over the other. "Let's get this on and see how we did!"

The woman was too cheerful for the moment. All three of us were a mess. Sloan took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling as the woman helped her step into the gown. Kit grabbed more tissues, knowing we were going to need them. As the dress was lifted around Sloan's torso, she dropped the robe at her feet so she could slide the straps over her shoulders.

Kit and I gasped.

The dress was positively breathtaking, and so was Sloan in it.

I stood, hand over my mouth as I took in every intricate detail and stitch of the dress. White spaghetti straps upheld a sweetheart, neck-lined lace bodice that looked as if it was made of white lace petals. And while this part of the dress continued to just above Sloan's knees, plain white lace broke off from her hips and stemmed all the way to the floor. Her back was exposed just to her hipline, where it dipped and returned to the fabric. It was absolutely perfect for a beach wedding.

"Wow." It was the only word I could find as I stood and moved around a now giggly Sloan.

"It's gorgeous," Kit agreed.

"We will let it out a little." The seamstress stuck two fingers between Sloan's bare skin of her back and the white lace. "We want you to have fun and be able to breathe in it."

Sloan's head bobbed fast. Too fast. I met my best friend's eyes in the mirror. Sloan looked ready to hurl in panic.

"It's okay if you ate too many truffle fries." I tried to calm her with a joke. "Those dresses come with extra fabric, because brides stress eat."

Sloan didn't laugh. She did the opposite. Tears flew from her eyes, and she used both hands to shield her face. She would have dropped right down to her knees in the dress if I wouldn't have grabbed each of her arms to keep her upright.

"Honey, what's wrong? You look beautiful! It's okay if they let the dress out an inch," I assured her.

"It's not fries." Sloan hiccupped.

"Tacos?" I continued attempting to get Sloan to laugh, but an instant later, I wasn't laughing either. It was clicking. "Sloan, are you...?"

Her head bobbed yes, but her tears didn't stop. It was a blow, but I had no time for that to sink in with a crying bride in my hands. Kit was eerily quiet behind us, and even though I had asked, Sloan's attention went to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. I looked over my shoulder to see Kit's shock.

"Oh," Kit said, as she tried to catch her daughter as she went running past. But Madison was out of reach and heading for another rack of fluffy dresses to disappear into.

"Yeah," Sloan agreed, still crying freely.

"Oh?" I asked. "Oh what? Oh, as in...?"

"Oh, as in Ollie doesn't want kids," Kit finished the sentence. "Does he know?"

Sloan's head shook fast. She gripped my arms tighter. "I had to find my family, because I needed to know how hard it was to give me up."

Oh.

I felt horrible and extremely guilty for being mad at Sloan over something that had been troubling her this much. Now I understood exactly why Sloan did what she did. Sloan didn't want kids either. She practically raised every foster-sibling she had. When she turned eighteen, she could finally breathe and live for herself. But a baby being inside of you easily sways your heart. Clearly, she wanted this baby with Ollie. And if she didn't, there were options.

"Sloan, Ollie loves you more than anything in this world. He will not be mad that you're pregnant."

The seamstress poked her head back into the room, gauging to see if the bride had calmed. Sloan released me, lifted the dress until it was bunched at her elbows, and stepped off the pedestal. "Get this off me, please."

I sighed. There was no doubt in my mind that the three of them would be just fine. But now it was setting in. Sloan was getting married and was having a baby. She now had a family. While happy for my friend, there was a pit in my stomach and my heart where that hurt like hell.

Harold was right. I was jealous. But mostly, I felt really lonely.