Kennedy
I fish out a diamond-studded tank top that says, Last Hoedown, and a sparkly skirt from my luggage and toss it to Tanushree, the girl I chose to be my maid of honor.
Fifteen bridesmaids might be a little much for some, but I've always thought bigger is better.
The McDermott-Norwall wedding is set to be the event of the summer. Period. And when I stand beside Flynn at the altar next month, I'm finally going to prove all the gossiping Karen's and Sharon's who said I'd never drag a virile man down the aisle at the ancient age of twenty-nine wrong.
Sure, Flynn might not be the downhome boy my big southern family expects me to marry, but my heart has belonged to him for nearly twelve years.
"This is so over the top, and I love it!" Tan screeches, hugging me tight around the neck. Her long black hair presses against my cheek. "Last Hoedown is a fucking vibe. Such a good theme." She expels a long breath. "This is gonna be such a fun weekend."
Somehow, she always knows what to say to get me all emotional.
I squeeze Tan back, trying not to get teary-eyed before we head out. "Now, don't forget to wear two pairs of socks with your boots," I tell her. "They're brand new, and you'll get worse blisters than the first time you squeezed into pointe shoes."
We share a laugh before she releases me. "Thanks for the hot tip."
Tan and I have been roommates and ballet besties for over a decade since I first moved from North Carolina to New York City, and we've been through a lot together. Hell, I was there when her fiance, Dominick, proposed to her.
I don't care if my least favorite auntie thinks one of my loud-mouthed cousins deserves the role. They don't know me like Tan.
Tan holds my gaze, her brown eyes studying me like she's been doing since I showed her my engagement ring. While I was giddy, her brows had pulled together like the first time she tried pork cracklins and told me she couldn't decide if she loved them or hated them.
I'm no clairvoyant, but instinctively, I know what she wants to say. I've known Tanushree for too dang long not to be able to read her mind.
I slip my phone out of the handy side pocket of my matching tiered fringe skirt and wave it at her with a sheepish grin.
"I gotta call Mamaw and tell her everything is goin' just fine. Will you make sure the bridesmaids get something in their stomach before the pedal bar shows up?" I ask her. "I don't want anyone throwin' up on the street. It ain't a cute look."
Without another word, Tan puts on her black sparkly cowboy hat and tips the brim at me. Nodding once. "No problem, ma'am." Her voice is an octave lower than usual, and she can't keep from chuckling. "Just call me Deputy Tan. At your service."
Relieved that she isn't giving me that soul-searching look anymore, I watch her strut out of my bedroom like a wild west cowboy.
"Thanks, boo boo!" I call after her as she shuts the door, leaving me alone to make an important call.
Blowing out a long breath, I press Mamaw's name and wait for her to answer. Some small part of me hopes she's napping so I can get away with a voicemail. Hearing her usually booming voice sound so weak makes me equal parts angry and sad. But I'm not getting away with a message today.
"What on earth are you callin' an old lady like me for, Tiny?" she says, using an old nickname. "Aren't you supposed to be havin' a bachelorette party? I'm pretty sure I paid for a stripper."
Tears prick in my eyes even though I'm laughing.
"You ain't that old, Mamaw. And you definitely didn't pay for a stripper."
We know plenty of men who will take their clothes off for free.
I'm lucky to be friends with a girl named Maren, whose boyfriend, West, is a famous stripper. And there's Tan's fiance, Dominick, who is pretty dang good too.
Then, of course, there is my friend, Lucas. He isn't famous, not by a long shot, but I had faith in him. One day, his name will be up in lights.
Mamaw laughs, but it turns into a cough. I really wish she'd listen to the doctors and quit smoking, but according to her, those jacket-wearing, college-educated fools don't know what's good for her.
I hear a baby cry in the background and wonder if it's my younger sister's newborn or my younger brother's sassy little toddler.
"You got everything you need?" she asks. "Because if you're callin' for money, Tiny, you know the answer is yes. My baby girl can have whatever she needs for her wedding. You've waited long enough."
I shake my head, causing my cowboy boot earrings to jingle softly. More tears prick in my eyes.
Weddings are sacred to the McDermott family. Almost as sacred as the love they represented.
My grandparents have been married for fifty-eight years. Momma and Daddy for thirty. And all my aunties and uncles have been married since before they turned twenty.
McDermott's pride themselves on finding their true love early on and never letting go. No one from back home understands why I've taken so long to tie the knot. Most of them claim I changed since I moved to New York City and forgot how important love is.
Selfish Kennedy. Twirling around in circles on stage. Only thinks about herself.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes as the thoughts get louder.
Things are different outside our hometown, and I hadn't been prepared for the New York City dating scene.
No one told me how hard it would be to find the right man, only to have him tell you he needed time to think about marriage. Or to have the right man tell you no one in his family gets married before thirty. Or how difficult it is to wait and hope the right man will make good on the promise he made when he took your virginity and marry you.
I let out a pent-up breath as I stare at the giant diamond engagement ring on my finger and shove those stupid little thoughts back down.
Flynn needed time, which he got, and now, everything is fine and dandy. We have our whole lives to make memories and babies.
"No," I reply, swallowing back the burn in my throat. "Just wanted to call and tell you everyone got in okay, and we're having the time of our lives."
"Well, stop yappin' and go have fun!" she tells me. "This is your weekend to celebrate the end of your single days. Because, like I always say, it isn't I do, it's I choose. And when Flynn puts that ring on your finger, you're choosing him forever. That's when the hard work of love begins."
Well, if I thought I could get off the phone with Mamaw and not cry, I was wrong. One tear slips past my lashes, and I wipe it away.
I hear a commotion downstairs, shouts and hollers from the thirty-odd girls I invited, and I wonder if the pedal buses have pulled up.
"Listen, Mamaw, I gotta go."
There's a knock at the bedroom door, and, assuming it's Tan coming to get me, I shout, "Just a second!" before I return to the call.
"Tell Papaw I love him, and kiss Tilly or Maggie or whoever's baby is over for me too. Okay?"
"Will do, Tiny! Now go and have you some fun!"
Mamaw's right. This weekend is all about celebrating. I hang up and tell Tan to come in.
But when I turn, expecting to see my maid of honor in Deputy mode, I find Lucas's face peeking from behind the door.
I freeze as we stare at each other. A giant smile is on his face, making his dimples pop. His dark blonde hair is styled just right. The shit-eating look cradled in his blue eyes says, surprised to see me? without saying a word.
Well, now I know what all the hollerin' was about. If Lucas is here, so are West and Dominick.
"I thought you said bachelorette parties were for girls," I tell him, sticking my hands on my hips and remembering that he isn't supposed to be here. "Which is why I didn't order you a hoedown tank or a fringe skirt."
He makes a silly face that puckers his lips, and it's hard to stay mad at someone that cute. "Good thing I packed my diamond studded thong."
I shoot him a serious look even though I want to laugh. "No thongs allowed on the pedal bus. It's against the rules. And it isn't sanitary."
"I thought you might say that, so I decided on this." He throws open the door and steps inside my room, arms wide open. "What do you think?"
I try to keep my jaw from dropping.
He turns in a slow circle so I can inspect his outfit, and my pulse kicks up like I'm about to walk out on stage.
He's wearing a pair of dusty cowboy boots, light-wash fitted jeans, a belt with an actual belt buckle, and a flannel button-down shirt that's rolled up his muscled arms. I make a point not to look at his tush in those jeans when his back is to me.
He looks...country. Real country. The only thing that's out of place is the diamond studs he wears in each ear.
"So?" he prompts, shoving his big hands inside his pockets. "If I pass the Kennedy test, I'm thinking of adding a cowboy look to my routine."
By routine, he means strip routine.
I give him a thumbs up. "You pass," I say, realizing I sound a little breathy. It must be all the excitement. I don't know why, but I add, "You look...great."
He sets a hand on his belt buckle, drawing my attention to that area. "You look mighty fine yourself, Miss Kennedy," he says in a very believable Southern drawl.
Blushing, I say, "Thanks, sugar."
Thankfully, Tan appears over Lucas's shoulder, and her lack of surprise at seeing Lucas tells me she's responsible for this. I should've known.
"What's the hold up?" she asks him. "You're supposed to be escorting Kennedy down the stairs so I can announce her. We just talked about this."
He runs a hand through his hair, perfectly mussing it. "I thought Kennedy was supposed to be the bridezilla, not you," he jokes, and Tan cracks a grin.
"Just hurry up. These girls are thirsty."
Someone shouts for Tan up the stairwell, and she disappears again in a flash of fringe, leaving me and Lucas alone again.
He offers me his arm and some small part of me feels more at ease because he's here. Lucas is a little taller than usual because of the cowboy boots, but he's still only a few inches taller than me. I don't mind because it means I don't have to crane my neck to meet his eyes.
Just as I'm about to slip my arm through his, my phone rings.
A huge, cheesy smile lights up my face when I see who it is. He must've been missing me. The sweetheart.
I give Lucas an apologetic look. "Sorry, I gotta take this. It's Flynn."
He gives me a big grin and tells me it's no problem. He totally understands. In fact, he's gonna let Tan know I need an extra few minutes because I got a call.
I step out onto the balcony that overlooks the pool to have a little privacy. It's sweet that Flynn's calling me from his bachelor party.
This, I tell myself, is what love is. This is the love that I've been waiting for all this time.
"Hey, hunny! How's the party? You havin' the time of your life?" I ask.
It's warm outside, and light from the sun reflects off the surface of the pool. I notice beach balls floating in the clear blue water that say, Bride or Die, making me grin.
"Listen, Kennedy. There's something important I need to tell you."
I can tell by the sound of his voice he's more than a little tipsy, but that's to be expected. He is in Vegas.
"I'm all ears."
A beat of silence follows, and the fact that he isn't saying anything makes my stomach clench. The longer he stays silent, the more nauseous I get. Because even though I can't read minds, I know Flynn like I know Tan, and I get the feeling that I don't want to hear whatever it is that he's going to say.
"Just remember, you gotta own up to the things you say drunk when you're sober," I remind him, knowing he is prone to booze-induced honesty.
And this is a shot of truth I don't want to take.
The warning doesn't work, and I feel his next words as I hear them. Jolting me to the core.
"Kennedy, I'm sorry, but I can't marry you."