We stay in the Girl Scouts bus for close to an hour. I have no idea if our parents are still following us or not, but as the driver pulls into a camping ground near the coast, I’m pretty sure it’s time for a reality check.
“Girls, be quiet now, we’ve reached our campsite,” one of the troop leaders sitting in the front calls out. “Let’s assemble in the clubhouse until I have the keys to your lodges. We’ll grab your luggage later, all right?”
Cheers erupt from all over the bus, and the girls dismount in a surprisingly orderly fashion for kids so young.
Kate and I wait for the last girl to leave before we exit ourselves. It’s still early afternoon, but the sun is already making a quick descent over Lake Michigan.
Kate stares at me. “What do we do now?”
I give her a twenty-dollar bill. “Go to the clubhouse and see if they have any hot chocolate. I’ll come in right after you.”
Once she’s gone, making more than a few heads turn as she passes other guests of the lodge in her wedding gown, I take my phone out of the inner pocket of my suit and compose a quick text:
The wedding didn’t happen, please come pick Kate up
My heart fights in my chest as my thumb hovers over the Send button. Then I clench my jaw, strengthen my resolve, and send the message along with our location.
Once she’s gone, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably text my parents and ask them to give me a lift back to Bluewater Springs. I’m their only child, and even if I’ve majorly disappointed them today, they’re still bound to love me unconditionally. I mean, they’re the two people in the world whose job is to love me and support me no matter how bad I mess up. And this time, I’ll admit it was pretty bad.
A chilly gust of wind prompts me to go join Kate inside the lodge. On the way in, I bump into the blonde troop leader.
“Hey,” she says. “I forgot about you guys. Are you going to be okay?”
She warmed up to us considerably after hearing our story.
“Yeah,” I say truthfully. “The only way from here is up, trust me. Thanks again for the ride.”
I find the runaway bride seated at a table near the windows; she’s hard to miss in her puffy white wedding gown. Kate picked a pretty nook made of wood-framed tempered glass that overlooks the lake on one side, and the entrance gates and a portion of the parking lot on the other. Similar nooks line the entire side wall.
Kate has taken off her fur, which now lays sprawled on the booth seat, and she’s cradling a red mug in her hands. She’s turned away from me, looking out the window with her elbows resting on the windowsill, lost in thought.
“Hey,” I say, slipping in next to her and twisting so I can enjoy the view. A red mug identical to hers is waiting for me, with white and light-blue tiny marshmallows floating on the surface of the steaming chocolate.
I grab the mug and raise it in a mock toast. “What a day.”
I take a sip and can’t help but wince.
“Yep,” Kate says. “They only have Hogs Chocolate. Can you believe it? So close to Bluewater Springs, and they buy their chocolate from Hogs.”
At the mention of our most fierce regional competitor for the Midwest, I fake-bristle.
“Unacceptable. I’ll have to speak to the manager before we take off.”
“How are we going to leave?” Kate sighs. “Do you have enough cash to pay for a ride back? I don’t even have my phone.” She bitter-chuckles. “Brides are not supposed to carry a purse.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ve taken care of everything.”
This earns me a small smile.
When Kate finishes her drink, she sets the mug down and stares at her left hand. Slowly, she removes Nana Fern’s ring from her finger and hands it to me.
“Well, at least now the charade is over.”
The tiny slip of metal weighs a ton in my palm. As if Kate just handed back to me the last ten years of our lives along with the ring.
“It wasn’t all bad, though, right?” I say.
“No,” Kate says, and looks away.
We sit in silence for a long while afterward. Until the roar of a sports car makes us look toward the entrance, where a red BMW is pulling up in the parking lot. By now the sun has dropped low behind the horizon, and artificial glittery lights illuminate the outside patio and bare trees.
Marco climbs out of the BMW and looks around uncertainly.
Kate’s head snaps toward me. “What did you do?”
“I texted him.”
With an unreadable expression, she pulls on her fur and rushes outside to meet him.
They stand beside the patio, which is awash in the warm light of an overhead streetlight and the intermittent glow of all the fairy lights decorations. The girl scouts sure picked a romantic location for the reunion of Princess Kate and the cruel King Marco.
I should probably go order myself a stiff drink and leave them to it. But I can’t tear my eyes away from the couple. They talk for a while; Kate is fumbling with her arms all over the place like she does whenever she’s nervous. Then he takes her hands into his as she keeps talking. And then they embrace.
PDAs is where I draw a firm line in the snow, because if I have to watch them kiss, I might actually puke. Doing the right thing sucks. But Kate’s made it clear she doesn’t want to be with me, and she and Marco only broke it off because of our ridiculous charade. I figure it’s up to me to set things right. If Kate loves Marco, they should be together.
I force my gaze away from the window and fixate on the emptiness ahead of me. Blurred lines melt into blurred lights before my eyes.
I’m self-hypnotizing with the hazy dark browns of the wooden furniture and warm yellow glare of the lamps, trying to anesthetize the pain, when a cloud of white invades my field of vision, and my gaze refocuses on Kate as she makes a second spectacular entrance into the lodge.
It’s hard to do anything in half measures while wearing a wedding dress.
She all but runs toward me and stops in front of the table, breathless.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask. “Where’s Marco?”
“He’s gone,” Kate says, scooting into the booth.
Bemused, I shuffle over to make room for her. “Why?”
Kate ignores my question completely. “What did that girl whisper in your ear, earlier on the bus when you finished the story?”
For a moment I’m tempted to say nothing again. But what the hell, why not answer truthfully? I mean, what have I to lose at this point. “She told me she was sorry.”
“Why was she sorry?”
“Because she said it was obvious Prince Chuck was still in love with Princess Kate, and it made her sad that they couldn’t be together.”
Kate’s eyes glitter in the suffused lights of the lodge. “And is he? Still in love with her, I mean.”
“Yes,” I say simply.
“Good,” Kate says. “Because Princess Kate has finally realized she still loves him, too.”
I grin like an idiot. “And who said the prince and the princess have to get married to have a happily ever after?”