The Bridesmaid (21 page)

“Go? Where?” she asked. She looked down at his Revolution T-shirt and slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, God! The game!”

Christopher’s face fell. “You forgot?”

“It’s been really crazy around here lately. I’m sorry,” Abby said, stepping back. “Come in for a second. I just . . . I need to get changed.”

What she really needed was a shower and a long sleep, but that was clearly not going to happen. Christopher followed her back upstairs, chatting excitedly.

“So we’ll definitely get to check out the locker room. And we’ll take pictures with the players, which will be awesome and—” Abby opened the door to her bedroom and the chatter instantly stopped.

Noah was standing in the middle of the room holding a piece of paper. He looked stunned and confused. Then he glanced up, saw Christopher and clenched his jaw.

“Are you . . . going to Italy?” Noah asked, holding out the page.

Abby’s throat instantly went dry.

Oh.

Crap.

“How did you . . . ?”

“I was looking for a pen,” Noah said, glancing quickly at Christopher. “Were you even going to tell me about this?”

“Wait a minute, you got in?” Christopher said. He stepped around Abby so he could face her, his grin huge. “You’re coming?”

“Hold on.
He’s
going?” Noah’s voice shifted from shock to anger. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Okay, wait. Everyone just hold on a second,” Abby said. “Noah. I was going to tell you—”

“We are going to have so much fun, yo,” Christopher said.

“Christopher, you are not helping,” Abby said.

“You know what, forget it,” Noah said. “You two go to Italy and I’ll just go home.”

He walked past them and ran down the stairs at record speed. Abby shot Christopher a look, then took off after Noah.

“Noah!”

“What is
he
doing here?” Noah asked. His hand was on the doorknob. Christopher stopped in his tracks and hovered behind Abby.

“We’re going to a Revolution game,” Christopher said.

“Oh. Really? So that’s why you couldn’t come over for dinner tonight, Abby? Because you were going out with
him
? This just gets better and better!”

Abby brought her hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I—”

“For what? For lying or for dating another guy?” Noah asked.

“He
is
just my friend,” Abby said. “And you’re more than that. You know that.”

“Then why lie to me?” Noah asked. There was so much pain in his eyes that it hurt Abby to look into them. “Why are you keeping all this major stuff from me and going out with other guys behind my back?”

“It’s not like that,” Abby said simply. She was so exhausted, she didn’t even have it in her to argue.

“Well, it sure looks that way to me,” Noah said.

Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Abby’s eyes filled with tears and she took a deep breath.

“Anything I can do?” Christopher asked.

“You’re gonna have to go without me,” she said.

“Ab, come on. I know you’re upset, but we’re talking about all-access passes here!” he said.

“I know! It’s just . . . there’s too much going on around here for me to go out and have fun,” Abby said, barely holding it together. “I’m sorry, Christopher. Tell your dad I said thanks.”

“Okay,” Christopher said with a sigh. “Well, call me if you need anything. And for the record, I’m psyched about Italy and I’m sorry about Cakeboy.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, her eyes welling up with tears. “Me too.”

Abby walked Christopher to the door. As soon as he was gone, Abby started upstairs to commence her nervous breakdown. She could barely catch her breath. First Tucker, then Carol, then her dad, then Noah. Everything was falling apart.

Suddenly a cell phone rang, stopping her in her tracks. It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t her mom’s wedding march, or Carol’s phone, which played some classical tune. Abby saw a silver cell on the counter. Tucker’s phone.

Don’t do it,
a little voice in her mind warned.
You
really shouldn’t.

Abby grabbed the phone and hit the talk button.“Hello?”

“Oh . . . sorry,” a girl’s voice said. “I must have the wrong number.”

“Wait! Are you looking for Tucker?” Abby asked. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was amazed she was even able to speak.

“Yes. . . .”

“I can give him a message,” Abby said, biting her lip. “I’m his sister.”

She gripped the countertop. What was she doing? Had the events of the last twenty-four hours sent her completely over the edge?

“Oh, great!” the girl said. “This is Margery. He’s a little late and I just wanted to make sure he’s still coming. Is he already on his way to the restaurant?”

Margery? I thought her name was Melissa! Is he having
two
affairs?

“I don’t know,” Abby improvised. “He . . . just left. Where did he say he was going again . . . ?” she said as if she were trying to remember.

“The Seascape, right? I hope he didn’t forget,” Margery said.

I should totally be a detective,
Abby thought.

“Yes! That’s it! The Seascape!” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be there any minute. Bye!”

Abby pressed her thumb into the off button—hard. The rat. How could he do this to her sister? How could he be seeing not one, but two women?

And how was she ever going to prove it?

And suddenly Abby knew what she had to do. She ran upstairs, grabbed her keys and the digital camera she’d gotten for her birthday and headed outside. She was on a mission. At least it gave her something to do other than sit in her room and obsess about Noah.

As soon as she stepped out the door, she realized the flaw in her plan—Carol had the van. The sun was just starting to go down and Abby’s mom was still inside with her VIC. Abby looked down at her key to her mom’s Avalon. She was only supposed to use it in emergencies. This definitely qualified.

Abby jogged over to the car, got in and pulled out to the road. She turned right and headed for the water.

Fifteen minutes later, she eased over to the side of the road, right across from the Seascape. It was the newest restaurant in Watertown and sat overlooking the docks at the edge of town. The front windows were big and bright, and Abby could see the couples dining inside at candlelit tables. It looked like a very romantic setting, most of the tables just big enough to accommodate two.

Suddenly Abby saw him. Tucker. Walking along the sidewalk toward the restaurant, carrying a bottle of wine. All of Abby’s emotions seemed to come to a head at that moment—her heartbreak over Noah, her confusion and anger over her parents, her resentment of Tucker, her annoyance at Delila for exploding at the mall, her irritation at Carol for getting married and leaving her. All she wanted to do was get out of the car, walk over to the restaurant and punch that Tucker in his stupid cheating head.

Get a grip,
she told herself.
You’re not going to drop
anyone, least of all the Colorado cowboy.

Abby slouched down in her seat, peeking through the window. Tucker walked into the restaurant. A pretty girl with blond hair got up from her table when she saw him and smiled. Tucker stepped over and greeted her with a kiss. It wasn’t entirely on the lips, but it wasn’t entirely on the cheek either. He definitely caught half and half. Not the kiss of a mere friend.

Abby’s fingers instinctively curled into fists. That was when she felt the camera in her hand. In her shock she had completely forgotten about it. But looking at it now . . . it seemed so petty. She didn’t want her sister to see this. She didn’t want photographic proof of Tucker’s infidelity burned into Carol’s mind forever.

She was just going to have to tell Carol what she’d seen, and hope that her sister believed her.

• 14 •

The Big Day

Abby lay on her bed wondering if life could possibly get any worse. It was later that night and she desperately needed to talk to someone, but so far had had no luck. Delila’s cell phone went directly to voice mail and she wasn’t home when Abby had tried her house. Abby had left Noah three messages and gotten no reply. Christopher had left
her
a message, but she didn’t want to call him back and hear about all the fun she’d missed. Her mother had gone out for a last-minute fitting for her mother-of-the-bride dress, leaving Abby and her dad to eat dinner alone. Abby had considered saying something to her father, but he looked haggard enough already eating his sad lonely bowl of soup. She just didn’t have it in her to make him feel any worse. Her sister still wasn’t back. And neither was Tucker, which probably meant he was out there right now, making out with Margery in the back of some car.

This had to be what they called rock bottom. Only Abby felt she was about ten layers of igneous crap
beneath
rock bottom. She sighed and turned her head to look at her clock. It was one a.m. Sleep was apparently not going to happen.

Suddenly she heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. She got up and rushed to the window. It was Carol! Thank goodness. Abby had to tell her about tonight and she had to tell her now.

Except that right behind the van was Tucker’s truck.

What the . . .

Abby watched as Tucker and Carol both got out of their cars. They walked over to each other and quickly embraced. Then they joined hands and disappeared around the side of the house. They looked positively giddy. Abby sat down on her bed. Why were they so happy? And how was she going to tell Carol that the guy she was clutching fingers with had been out on a date only a few hours ago?

A few minutes later Abby heard the stairs creak. Tucker and Carol went into her room. There was a lot of whispering, shushing and giggling. A few minutes later, the door to Carol’s bedroom opened and closed again and there were more footsteps on the stairs. Abby started for the hall, then heard the front door open and close. She ran back over to the window and what she saw down below in the moonlight made her heart drop.

Carol and Tucker were getting into the truck. With suitcases.

Oh no!
Abby thought. She ran downstairs in her nightshirt and socks.
Nonononononono!
Where were they going?

Abby didn’t even have time to think of all the reasons to stop them. All she knew was that she
had
to stop them.

She sprinted through the kitchen, out the door and onto the driveway. The truck was already pulling away.

“Carol!” Abby shouted at the top of her lungs. The brake lights lit up at the end of the drive.

“Carol, stop!” Abby cried, running toward them in her bare feet. She was just twenty yards away— could practically feel the steel of the flatbed on her fingertips. The truck turned and disappeared behind the hedge, rumbling off to anywhere.

“Come on . . . pick up!” Abby was pacing in her bedroom. “Pick up, pick up, pick
up
!”

Carol’s voice mail clicked on and Abby slammed the phone down. She had tried both Carol and Tucker’s cell phones hundreds of times since they’d left, but neither of them was answering. There was no telling where they were, what they were doing or if they were ever coming back.

They could be eloping,
Abby thought for the twentieth time that day. It all fit—the sneaking off at night, the giggling, the suitcases. All that coupled with the fact that Carol had realized her Bridezilla status just yesterday afternoon made an elopement seem like a sure bet. But there was just no way Carol would do that to her parents. Especially not without telling them. Abby just couldn’t imagine it. After everything her mom and dad had gone through for this wedding, Abby knew that Carol would never take her wedding away from them.

So where the heck was she?

“Okay, think. Where would they have gone?” Abby asked herself. She had already looked through all the papers on Carol’s desk, but she decided to try again. Sooner or later her parents, who were putting the finishing touches on their dueling weddings downstairs, were going to realize the bride was missing. And when they did they were going to come to Abby for an explanation. Ransacking Carol’s room seemed like Abby’s only option.

Abby let herself into Carol’s bedroom and glanced around. If there were no clues on the desk, where Carol seemed to plan her whole life, where else would they be? A bunch of bridal magazines were stacked neatly on Carol’s bedside table. At a loss for anything else to do, Abby lifted the first magazine and quickly flipped through it. Nothing. She dropped it on the bed and tried the second. Nothing. She groaned and lifted the third. A pamphlet slipped out from underneath it and fell open on the floor. Abby picked it up and her blood ran cold. No. This was not possible.

The colorful ad was splashed with the headline
Say I Do! Vegas-Style!
Pictured was a happy couple, and walking down the aisle on either side was a snarling Elvis impersonator. On the side flap was a list of wedding packages, and the one at the very top was circled and starred in red ink: the Little White Wedding.

“Oh . . . my . . . God,” Abby said breathlessly. “They’re eloping!”

“Noah! Thank you for picking up!” Abby cried, clutching the phone to her ear. “I need your help. I have no idea what to do.”

“Are you all right?” Noah asked.

“Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know,” Abby said.

Just tell him,
Abby’s mind shouted as she stared down at the brochure.
Noah always knows what to do.
You should have listened to him about Tucker ages ago!

“Noah, I think Carol and Tucker are eloping,” she said. “They snuck out last night with suitcases and I just found this Vegas brochure in her room and . . . my parents are going to die!”

She heard an intake of breath at the other end of the line and held her own.

“Why don’t you call Johnny Rockets?” Noah said flatly. “I’m sure he’ll know exactly what to do.”

Abby was so stung she momentarily lost the power to speak.