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I made my choice, so why is it so hard to live with it?
“Look, I don’t want to overstep my bounds but I,” she licks her lips, “I was really surprised when you accepted that other guy’s marriage proposal. Mr. Bolton seemed to really like you. I mean, as far as I can tell. He’s generally scary to be around, but with you he was… I don’t know. Softer.”
My eyes sweep closed. I lay my head on the desk and groan.
Amy isn’t the only one who expressed disappointment at my choice.
My grandparents did too.
Grampa was fuming about Taz not getting his blessing first, while Gran looked at me like I was a coffee pot that had shattered on the ground.
Even the farmhouse ladies mumbled their shock and disappointment. After Taz’s proposal, I let my master of ceremonies take over the gala and ran off stage. I saw all the wide eyes and slacking jaws from Nova, Vanya Beckford and the others and knew I had to get out of there.
So I left.
Thankfully, Amy stepped up for me and made things flow smoothly.
She’s yet another gift in my life that I wouldn’t have met if not for Clay.
My head aches and my heart clenches.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” Panic is laced in Amy’s voice.
“No.”
“Island, this isn’t right. You need to go home. Would you like me to call your fiancé so he can take you?”
“No,” I blurt the word and shoot my head up so fast that the room spins. “Ugh.”
“Island!” Amy rushes around my desk and crouches so her face is level with mine.
“I’m okay,” I mutter, my lips slacking and tears filling my eyes. “I’m really,reallyhappy. Everything is perfect.”
Amy scrunches her nose and leans in to hear me better. “What?”
“I said I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” I sob. It must be the cold medicine messing with my brain. Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t slept all weekend.
“Island, if you don’t want me to call your fiancé, that’s fine. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“Don’t.” I snatch her hand. I hate when people make a fuss over me.
Amy peers down.
I inhale a deep breath, meet her eyes and force a strained smile. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come in. I’ll drive myself home.”
“No way.”
“It’s not that far.”
“Do you think I’d let you get behind the wheel of a car right now? Your voice is gone, your eyes are red. Your face is gaunt. And for the first time since I’ve known you, you haven’t done your hair.”
Self-consciously, I touch the relaxed ends of my hair. I had no energy to put in a new style over the weekend. This morning, I couldn’t even be bothered to throw on a wig.
“I’ve never seen you this weak. Ever. And it scares me.” She sighs. “So please. Even if it means that I take you home, let someone drive you.”
“Fine. I’ll call an Uber. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.” She hands the car keys back to me.