Match Me

Chapter 3

I watched in horror as all hell broke loose. The song ended abruptly, the last note suspended in the air. Angela screamed. Gasps rose from the crowd as groomsmen huddled around the fallen bridegroom.

“What happened?” The ring-bearer, Angela’s youngest brother, stooped down. “And whose shoe is this?”

I shrank back into the stairwell.

“Is he OK?” Angela shrieked, clutching the sides of her gown. Her bouquet lay haphazardly in the aisle.

Paul, Chase’s best friend and one of the groomsmen, made his way over to her. “He’s fine. I think he might have passed out.”

“What?” she cried.

“Why don’t you go get some air,” he suggested, guiding her away from the altar. “Jenna, take her, will you?” He motioned to one of the bridesmaids.

Jenna hurried over, clucking and murmuring. She held Angela by the waist and they walked down the aisle together.

Paul resumed his position next to Chase. “If everyone could step out, give him some space, that would be great.”

No one moved. The pianist sat at her bench and the other groomsmen and bridesmaids were frozen in place. The guests stood by their pews, twisting and turning for a better look at the man splayed out on the floor. Even the pastor seemed unable to move. Or help.

Chase groaned.

“Really,” Paul said, his voice elevated. “Give us a minute.”

Slowly, the sanctuary emptied. Paul knelt next to Chase, doing his best to block him from view. After a few moments, the room was silent and empty.

“What happened?” Chase’s voice was weak and disoriented.

Paul grunted. “I think you’d better ask her.”

I peeked around the corner of the door. Paul’s eyes were fixed on me. And he was holding my shoe.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

“Ask who?” Chase asked. He sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

Paul jerked his head in my direction.

I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed and took a tiny step into the open.

“Bonnie??”

“I…I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Chase stared at me, dumbfounded. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I turned to look at Paul but his eyes were cast downward. I stared at the top of his head, looking for support in his brown locks. I wasn’t going to find it.