I Choose You

Forty-Five

Maven

I've been pacing back and forth in my room for almost an hour now. Mare dashed off to Evangeline's and slammed the door in my face rather quickly.

I wonder what is up with her.

She's been vomiting for 3 weeks now, that's what she said. Once she looked at her planner she freaked out, dropped it on the floor, questioned me about Evangeline, then ran off.

I put her planner away and didn't look at it, I can give Mare her privacy on that at least.

I don't know whether to be angry, scared, or sad. Or thrice.

All of this seems messed up. What can Evangeline do to calm her nerves? Maybe it's Coriane, maybe she just needs a happy smile to cheer her up.

Or I could cheer her up. I am her fiancé.

Maybe she is asking Evangeline to see Cal, so she doesn't have to ask me about him.

No, Maven, she is loyal. That one time was because she was drunk, and so was he. Their judgment and emotions were fogged, it's not like that.

I can't let my mind wander off into those thoughts of Mare not being loyal to me, or anything else tragic.

But what if Mare has fallen ill and she is avoiding me?

What if she won't make it until our wedding?

Maven Merandus Calore, calm yourself.

I give myself the mental slap to tell myself to shut up. Something I do too much, sadly.

I decide to do the most unkinglike thing I can think of right now and I do a faceplant onto the bed.

It annoyed Mother to no end when I did it as a child.

I roll onto my back and stay in the starfish position. I exhale sharply and stare blankly at the ceiling.

I look at the clock on the bedside table again.

Only two more minutes have passed.

I look back at the ceiling, wanting to let my mind wander but I know well enough that if I do, it'll walk off into a dark place.

Maybe I should go to Evangeline's and check on her.

Maybe she is staying with her because she knows this state I'm in.

Maybe she isn't with Evangeline.

The deadlock of the door clicks, and the door opens.

I pop my head up and roll over to stand up and see who it is.

It better be Mare.

I roll, only I don't meet the bed, I flop onto the hardwood floor.

I could have sworn there was more bed for me to roll onto.

The bed disappeared on me.

I stand up promptly and greet the person who watched me fall fashionably onto the floor.

It is Mare.

She looks like a mess. Her hair is tattered, her eyes all red and puffy, her cheeks a bright pink and shiny, her clothes all wrinkled and scrunched.

I don't know what to say.

"Hi," I stammer.

She sniffles. "Hey,"