Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
And yet—
“Griffin …?”
I glance at Byron.
The look in his eyes centers me.
I have no idea what everyone just paid witness to, but at least I remember myself now and where I am.
I face the room full of scared and anxious faces. “Indigestion,” I tell them with an apologetic smile, then pat my stomach. I turn back to my fiancé, extend my hand for the ring, and at last give my answer: “I do.”
Byron peers into my eyes questioningly. I suppose he decides not to invite whatever it is on his mind to his lips before he slides the ring onto my finger. Something else is said by the officiant, the room applauds, and we kiss for the first time as husbands.
-11-
That’s One Way To Ruin Halloween
Apparently everyone decided it was a performance for Halloween.
A spectacle. A totally scripted thing.
As planned as the rehearsal dinner we didn’t have.
Lights, projectors, and sound effects.
“They went a little bit overboard, if you ask me,” I overhear my mom say at the reception. “Also, I’d like to have been in on it—a tiny heads-up might’ve helped, as they know I have a jumpy heart—but I guess that’s part of the fun. A haunted house isn’t effective if you know each scare before they come, right? Byron’s dads were obviously in on it, but why didn’t they let me play a tiny role? It could’ve been fun! Y’know, I was in a play back in junior high about a princess and a talking tree …”
Elsewhere, Byron’s dads are playing up the whole “it was just a performance thing” to their friends and family who came, most of whom seem to know what they really do for a living, which helps to further mask the truth. Mortimer’s twin brother (apparently he has one) was in tears from the spectacle, truly terrified by what he’d seen, so convinced by its effectiveness.
The cake is delicious. Or so I’m told. I’ve barely eaten any of mine. Byron and I sit at our special table apart from everyone else, put up on display like a pair of trophies for both families to brag about to their friends. Several times Byron nudges me and asks if I’m going to eat my cake, and I just smile and tell him my stomach is a bit off, which is actually not far from the truth.
Ever since our big scene in the chapel, I’ve not felt completely myself—even though I’m technically more myself now than I was before.
“Warmth is returning to your face,” notes Byron as he presses the back of his hand to my cheek, then my forehead. “You’re not as pale.”
“I guess that’s what I get when my soul’s recovered completely.” I give him a weary smile. “Sorry if I still seem a bit off. Feel like I’m running on fumes.”
“I know. It’s totally okay.” Byron brings a hand to my back to give it a soothing rub. “Everyone probably just thinks you’re tired from the big show we put on.”
“Right.” I glance down at my plate—and my pretty, sad slice of cake whose destiny is to go to waste.
Byron seems to consider me for a moment. “Are … Are you okay about everything else?”
I glance at him. “What do you mean?”
“You still haven’t told me what you saw.”
After comparing notes, apparently whatever crazy bright tunnel of light I witnessed was vastly different than what everyone else experienced. My Aunt Marney thought she saw her dead grandmother. My dad saw an old friend of his from college who died of an incurable illness in his twenties. One of Byron’s friends from the theater was in tears after seeing her mother again, who was apparently knitting a rainbow-colored scarf.
It’s clear everyone touched death in that chapel.
“Griffin …?”
I face him with a wistful smile. “I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe when we’re alone in the hotel suite.”
“Ah, right. Hotel suite.” Byron chuckles. “I almost forgot. For a second, I just pictured us cuddled up in my apartment tonight like any other night, watching anime or low-budget scary movies until four in the morning with bowls of ice cream.”
“That could very well be our reality,” I reason.
“Hey, it’s our wedding night. Our Halloween. We can go right home after this if we want.”
“Hmm. But then we miss the experience of getting some super fancy, high-priced room service.”
Byron chuckles. “Okay, alright, fine, hotel suite it is. Besides, our parents paid for it, so we’d better enjoy it, right? Also, if I remember correctly, there’s a Jacuzzi outside on the balcony overlooking the city …”
“And a huge waterfall shower,” I add.
“Sold,” he sings, then pulls me in for a hug, which quickly turns into a kiss. When a friend of his from the café catches us and whistles, we separate with a laugh as Byron shouts across the room at them teasingly.