Page 78 of Come to Me

"Okay." She swallows hard. She's nervous. "Well, I'll think about it. And I'll think about the guest list. And, uh..."

"Take your time. You were right before. It's been less than a week."

"I want to figure this out so it's not hanging over my head."

Great.

"That came out wrong," she backtracks immediately. "It's just. I'm not a fan of planning parties. And this will pretty much be the most important party of my life."

"It doesn't have to be big. It can just be the two of us."

"Yeah." She takes a shallow breath. "I'll think about it."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask. There's something off.

"Fine. But it's getting late. I should head home before the subway gets all fucked up."

We say our goodbyes and I collapse at home.

I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.

Was it a mistake to propose? I tried to talk about it beforehand, but she never wanted to talk...

So, I just fucking went for it.

And now I'm on the other side of the country.

Fuck.

Chapter Seventeen

Alyssa

It's a sunny day. Bright and warm and beautiful the way all summer days are. The sand is rough and hot beneath my feet, and I struggle to take another step. The beach. I must be on a beach. Obviously, I'm on a beach. The beige sand is right in front of my face. And it's so damn bright. The sun must be bouncing off it. The sun must be high in the sky.

God, it's bright. So bright I can barely see anything but the blue sky surrounding me. I squint and throw my hand up to shield my eyes. Something comes into focus. Someone standing a dozen or so feet away in a black tuxedo.

Fuck. This can't be... I bring my other hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the oppressive glare of the sun. It is. That's Luke, but there's something off about him. Something different. I can't put my finger on it.

He nods, smiling, or something like smiling. It's hard to tell from here. It's so damn bright. I press my eyes closed, but the sun is so hot on my face. Everything is this awful shade of yellow black.

Then it starts. That music. Jesus, not that music. It's the fucking wedding march. This can't be my damn wedding. Not here. Not like this. Not yet.

I have only two choices--run away or take a step forward. A step towards the rest of my damn life. I do. The heavy, satin fabric of my dress presses against my legs. I bring my gaze to it--it's such an oppressive, blinding white. It's some polyester terror, a tacky thing better suited for a 16-year-old debutante.

But the clothes don't make the woman.

I take another step. Squeeze my eyes shut. There's nothing else I can do. Nothing better to do. No other way to block it out.

"Alyssa." It's a whisper, a tiny quiet thing. Luke. It's Luke. I finally open my eyes, and he's right in front of me. But there's still something off about him, a coldness, a hardness, a strangeness.

I can't do this.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

"We are gathered here today..." An officiant is standing before us. But, where the hell did he come from?

I nod. Fine. I'll play along. Get through this. I've gotten through plenty before.