The Boy I Hate(84)

Samantha twisted her fingers as she following the trail of tissues into Renee’s bedroom, where she found her buried deep under a pile of blankets in the dark, lonely bed. The Notebook was playing on the television, and Samantha crawled in beside her and rested her head on the top of Renee’s shoulder.

She pulled in a shaky breath, realizing she should be the shoulder to cry on, the arms of support at a time like this. Instead, she was the bearer of deceit, the one to cause her best friend to crumble.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking with each word. It was a feeble effort to make things right, but it was all she could muster at the moment.

Renee squeezed her eyes shut, struggling with her own emotions as she pulled a tissue from the box. “My father isn’t coming. Tristan will be walking me down the aisle.”

Samantha suspected as much, but it was still heartbreaking to hear it from her best friend’s lips. She handed Renee a tissue. Because she knew the hopes and dreams Renee had always carried. She knew about Renee’s dream of a fairy tale wedding, which always included her father walking her down the aisle in every one.

Renee blotted her eyes, turning toward Samantha to search her face. But she didn’t look angry, she looked heartbroken.

“Everyone thinks he’s unbreakable, but he’s not.”

Samantha nodded, her chin beginning to quiver as she tried to pull herself together—because she knew Renee was talking about Tristan. Unbreakable Montgomery. The Rock of West Valley high school.

“I went to his room, but he wasn’t there. I’ve tried calling—” But her words came out on a sob, and she couldn’t finish.

Renee threw the covers from her body, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she yelled. “Why is everyone keeping secrets from me?” She stood at the side of the bed, her hair was an unbrushed mess, and Samantha had no idea what to tell her.

She pulled up to her knees, trying to come up with something to say. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I should have said something, but it was your wedding, your big day, and I didn’t want to take anything away from you.”

Renee spun around. “That’s bullshit!” she yelled, gripping the balled-up tissue in her fist.

Samantha turned toward the darkened window, trying without success to pull herself together. “You’re right.” She choked. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I didn’t tell you for a lot of reasons… Because my feelings were so big. Because it was all happening so fast.”

“You think I can’t handle big? I’m a fucking adult, Sam. Things happen. Don’t you think I know that?”

Samantha swallowed and looked back to her friend. “I didn’t want to share it, Ren. Not even with you. Because sharing things with you always makes them real.” It was the honest to God truth. The completely selfish truth of a girl who didn’t trust her own heart. She took another tissue from the box, her shoulders shaking. Then she felt Renee move beside her on the bed, smoothing the hair from her eyes and cheeks.

Samantha looked up, tears rolling down her face.

“Do you love him?” Renee whispered, her face just as tear-streaked as Samantha’s.

She didn’t hesitate before answering, because she wanted the words spoken more than anything. “Yes. I love him. I love him so much.”

Renee pulled her into her arms, and they both collapsed into each other’s embrace. “Then you have to tell him.”

Samantha’s words were barely audible as she nodded her head. “I know.”





30





Chapter Thirty





The next morning went by in a blur. There were hair appointments, nail appointments, and makeup from the moment she opened her eyes. And Tristan was still nowhere to be found. She was sure he was with the guys, doing all the wedding things he was supposed to, but the fact that she hadn’t seen or spoken to him since the rehearsal left her stomach in knots.

She stood on the step, waiting for her best friend to walk down the aisle, and glanced over the crowd of people, knowing they waited with bated breath, just as she did. But for a different reason. Because they were waiting for their bride, her best friend for all eternity, while she was waiting for Tristan.

The door opened at the back of the room, and the crowd turned and rose out of their chairs. Renee stood at the open doorway, the “Bridal Chorus” playing softly from the piano in the background. Her dress was off-white, with a lace bodice and delicate sleeves that hung off her shoulders like lace ivy. Her head was high, her skirt simple, draping elegantly all the way to the floor—showing bits of her long legs as she took step after step.