It Matters How This Ends

It Matters How This Ends Part 98

Diane. God, how I missed her. She would have loved it. I could picture her clapping and shouting once we got married and making a big scene infront of everyone. I imagined her getting drunk after the ceremony, hitting on random guys. I imagined us, clinking our glasses together and enjoying the moment.

I took a deep breath and wiped away the tear that ran down my cheek. I walked to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine and looked up at the sky;

"I know you're up there, looking over me. About that, I am sure, because I must have a guardian angel to have survived all of the crazy shit that happened. I will see you at the wedding tomorrow. Cheers, mom.", I took a sip of my wine and went back to the bedroom. I sat there for hours, working on my speech. My eyes hurt from the bright laptop screen that was flashing in my face, so I shut it for a moment and closed my eyes. I didn't want to, but I drifted off to sleep.

The phone ring woke me up;

"Shit! What time is it?!", I panicked and picked up my phone. It was only 8:15 PM. I looked at the screen and saw Piper's name on it.

I picked it up.

"Hey, Pipes. Miss me already?"

"Yes. I just wanted to hear your voice and wish you goodnight. Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"I'm not. Maybe just about seeing you in your dress. I bet you'll look beautiful. I'll probably be nervous then.", I chuckled.

"I can't wait to be your wife.", Piper said in a sweet, sleepy voice.

"Me neither.", I replied.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Vause-Chapman. Don't bail on me."

"Goodnight, Pipes. I won't."

I hung up and opened the laptop again. "Concentrate. You got this.", I said to myself and began writing.

I decided to speak from my heart-as always, and the words seemed to be writing themselves. It still took me about 2 hours to finish, because I wanted it to be perfect.

I printed it out, shut down the laptop and tucked myself into bed. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but couldn't. I didn't know whether it was the nerves getting to me or the fact that she wasn't next to me.