“No!” The super fine lines at the corners of Elodie’s eyes—laugh lines—because she does do a lot of that whenever her mom is out of hearing, crinkle ever so slightly as her eyes narrow. “I’m glad you suggested this and worked out all the details with me because I couldn’t have done it alone. I wasn’t brave enough to. And I know no one else would have gone for Jeffers.”
The dog lets out a low whine when he hears his name. My entire back seat is covered in short brindle dog hairs and slobber. So. Much. Slobber. It’s a darn good thing I love Jeffers because man, he is not small, and he is not sanitary.
“I’m sorry about the shart. I was peeved because you almost left me up there to my fate just to make a point with a stupid cake. I was sweating up there in this stupid, stupid dress.” She tugs at the big puffy sleeves. “I have to get out of this.”
“Heaven forbid you would have been left to say no on your own.”
Elodie drags in a ragged breath and scowls fiercely at me. “Point well taken, Tay. I get it. I’m a coward. I couldn’t stand up to my parents, things got out of hand, and I made my own bed. It would’ve served me right to be married to a guy who’d put me up on his mantle along with his other tennis trophies, where that would have been that.”
The thought of Elodie ending up with Henry Twelve Names Stinkybottom makes my blood boil. Elodie is my best friend. She’s a good person, the drama with her parents aside. She actually isn’t afraid of them cutting her off. She’s scared of losing them and her wild granny, who is even more eccentric than mine, which is saying a lot. She isn’t afraid of losing her opulent lifestyle. Instead, she’s scared because her parents always kept her close. They loved her, but I think they also liked that they could manipulate her into not straying too far from their house.
They never played fair where Elodie was concerned. All from her mom saying things like Elodie moving out would kill her to her dad playing the whole rainbow baby card with her over and over. I’m not saying they do it intentionally, but Elodie was born when her parents were older. They’d lost four pregnancies before her, and it was devastating for them. They’d all but given up hope when Elodie was born, and they’ve always held her close. Much too close. They’ve never given her the freedom she needed. I know why they smothered her, but I can’t believe she’s been able to put up with it for so long. Not just until college. She never left home, and she never moved away. She once told me it would kill her parents if she left, and I think she truly believed it would.
Even now, she’s not leaving for good, even though they just wouldn’t listen, and she couldn’t get through to them. She did try to talk them out of this wedding. Many. Times. But in the end, I came up with this plan, and she agreed because she was desperate. At the end of the week, she’s still going to go back to her parents’ house and try to make them see sense. Regardless, I still had to leave a letter from her in the room she got dressed in at the church. It was a letter stating she was fine, she’d be coming back in a week, and that she’d be ready to talk but not ready to go through with the marriage. Period.
“Tay?” Elodie asks softly, and I snap out of my thoughts.
Her eyes are big and sad-looking now, all uncertain, worried, and scared. She looks like she’s going to cry, and the sight of her tears will gut me like it always does. Before I know what I’m doing, I raise my hand to her face and cup her jawline, smoothing my thumb over her silky cheek.
She freezes and lets out a little gasp of surprise while I’m stunned by the spark that goes racing up my arm to explode in my chest and ignite…well, uh, lower. Not my stomach, but lower than that. As in even further south. I figure it’s just some random wires crossing because Elodie is my best friend, and I certainly don’t spring semi hard-ons for my best friend as it would go against all the codes of friendship. Besides, this is Elodie, and I’m used to her being extremely beautiful and super hot. It’s never bothered me before in that way—the weenus problem sort of way.
Fuck. This is worse than the sharting thing.
I quickly withdraw my arm and settle for giving her a sympathetic look.
“Are you mad at me?” Elodie whispers, breaking my heart just a little bit further. “I know everyone else is going to be so pissed. My grandma even told me she shaved her legs for the wedding in front of everyone. Do you know how rare it is for her to do that?”