flips the bouquet her direction.
No way.
A couple of women go for it but it lands in the center of Allison’s chest like a baseball in a catcher’s mitt. The crowd roars as her hands desperately want to let go. Yet she can’t. She smiles and then lifts up the bouquet. Skylar is beaming and laughing.
She’s gonna pay for that.
The bride rushes over and gives her a big hug.
“I’m going to kill you,” Allison says.
“Where’s Jack?” Skylar asks, looking all around. “Get him out here.”
Allison knows Jack is sitting at a table at the edge of the dance floor, watching and drinking a beer and remaining far enough away. He looks uncomfortable when Skylar calls attention to him. Skylar doesn’t see him yet but she’s calling out for him to come onto the dance floor. Allison is still smiling and expects Jack to come to her side.
But something else happens instead.
Something nobody else sees.
Jack rolls his eyes and stands up, then slips away into the back of the room.
For a second, Allison feels as if she’s been punched in the gut. She didn’t want to catch the bouquet, but Skylar had other plans. But seeing this . . . especially after the words he just spoke . . .
The hyper, too-cool-for-school DJ comes over with his mike and large voice and corny smile. “And who does this lovely lady belong to? Looks like somebody else is getting hitched soon!”
Allison almost takes the bouquet and swats the Justin Timberlake wannabe over the head with it. Skylar has an arm around her and is still looking for Jack.
“I know he’s here,” the DJ says. “I just saw him a few minutes ago.”
All Allison wants to do is leave the bouquet and this bridesmaid dress and the banquet hall behind. The image of the bridge fills her mind again.
I should’ve known. Should’ve expected this. Should’ve assumed things would be this way.
Moments later, Allison glances up at the sky on the empty rooftop deck. The chairs and the floral altar are still there. She leans against the edge of the wall and closes her eyes, picturing a sweet moment from the ceremony.
She sees a father lifting one of the two-year-old ring bearers up to the tree. The young girl holds an envelope in her hand, one that surely contains money. She places it on the tree, where other envelopes hang. A gift for the future. A gift of life. A simple gift.
This makes Allison think of her own father. Her parents divorced when she was sixteen. The term sweet sixteen will always leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“There you are.”
She opens her eyes and sees Jack.
“I’ve been looking for you. Where’d you go?”
“I’ve been pretty easy to find today,” she says.
Jack looks puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
She breathes in, wondering if she’s going to do this right now. She knows it’s not the right place or time.
But there’s never going to be a right place and a right time and a right moment and a right man to ask the right question for the right purpose. Right?
“I gotta go,” she says, looking away from him.
Jack seems not to understand if she’s talking about leaving the outside rooftop or leaving the wedding reception altogether. Frankly, Allison isn’t sure either.
“Why?” he asks. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What? Tell me.”
He moves closer to her, innocent eyes looking down at her. The kind that would melt any girl’s heart. The problem is they’ve melted hers far too many times. And each time ithardens again, it takes a slightly different shape. Now her heart is misshapen and simply worn out.
“I love you, and I show it. But I’m baffled, Jack. Either you don’t love me or you have a really lousy way of letting me know it.”
His shirt is partly unbuttoned, his tie unknotted and hanging there like a noose around his neck. He looks wounded.
“What happened?”
“I saw you roll your eyes.”
Now he gets it.
“Look, I’m sorry —”
He moves to embrace her but she pushes him
No way.
A couple of women go for it but it lands in the center of Allison’s chest like a baseball in a catcher’s mitt. The crowd roars as her hands desperately want to let go. Yet she can’t. She smiles and then lifts up the bouquet. Skylar is beaming and laughing.
She’s gonna pay for that.
The bride rushes over and gives her a big hug.
“I’m going to kill you,” Allison says.
“Where’s Jack?” Skylar asks, looking all around. “Get him out here.”
Allison knows Jack is sitting at a table at the edge of the dance floor, watching and drinking a beer and remaining far enough away. He looks uncomfortable when Skylar calls attention to him. Skylar doesn’t see him yet but she’s calling out for him to come onto the dance floor. Allison is still smiling and expects Jack to come to her side.
But something else happens instead.
Something nobody else sees.
Jack rolls his eyes and stands up, then slips away into the back of the room.
For a second, Allison feels as if she’s been punched in the gut. She didn’t want to catch the bouquet, but Skylar had other plans. But seeing this . . . especially after the words he just spoke . . .
The hyper, too-cool-for-school DJ comes over with his mike and large voice and corny smile. “And who does this lovely lady belong to? Looks like somebody else is getting hitched soon!”
Allison almost takes the bouquet and swats the Justin Timberlake wannabe over the head with it. Skylar has an arm around her and is still looking for Jack.
“I know he’s here,” the DJ says. “I just saw him a few minutes ago.”
All Allison wants to do is leave the bouquet and this bridesmaid dress and the banquet hall behind. The image of the bridge fills her mind again.
I should’ve known. Should’ve expected this. Should’ve assumed things would be this way.
Moments later, Allison glances up at the sky on the empty rooftop deck. The chairs and the floral altar are still there. She leans against the edge of the wall and closes her eyes, picturing a sweet moment from the ceremony.
She sees a father lifting one of the two-year-old ring bearers up to the tree. The young girl holds an envelope in her hand, one that surely contains money. She places it on the tree, where other envelopes hang. A gift for the future. A gift of life. A simple gift.
This makes Allison think of her own father. Her parents divorced when she was sixteen. The term sweet sixteen will always leave a sour taste in her mouth.
“There you are.”
She opens her eyes and sees Jack.
“I’ve been looking for you. Where’d you go?”
“I’ve been pretty easy to find today,” she says.
Jack looks puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
She breathes in, wondering if she’s going to do this right now. She knows it’s not the right place or time.
But there’s never going to be a right place and a right time and a right moment and a right man to ask the right question for the right purpose. Right?
“I gotta go,” she says, looking away from him.
Jack seems not to understand if she’s talking about leaving the outside rooftop or leaving the wedding reception altogether. Frankly, Allison isn’t sure either.
“Why?” he asks. “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“What? Tell me.”
He moves closer to her, innocent eyes looking down at her. The kind that would melt any girl’s heart. The problem is they’ve melted hers far too many times. And each time ithardens again, it takes a slightly different shape. Now her heart is misshapen and simply worn out.
“I love you, and I show it. But I’m baffled, Jack. Either you don’t love me or you have a really lousy way of letting me know it.”
His shirt is partly unbuttoned, his tie unknotted and hanging there like a noose around his neck. He looks wounded.
“What happened?”
“I saw you roll your eyes.”
Now he gets it.
“Look, I’m sorry —”
He moves to embrace her but she pushes him
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