The Christmas Wedding - James Patterson [44]
Tallulah and Gus stood up, and Gus glanced down at the lonely dead joint.
“Don’t you even think about it,” I said.
We walked back in complete silence. Tallulah and Gus kept their heads tilted downward. My feet were burning from the cold. The soles were scratched. The toes were numb.
As we got closer to the footbridge, Gus looked down at my feet and almost shouted: “Gaby, how come you’re not wearing any shoes?”
“I’m not?” I said. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
Chapter 51
MY POOR FEET were frozen and on fire. If I needed any reminder, there were blotches of blood on the carpet.
I took off my gorgeous dress and examined it for damage and dirt. God was looking down on the bride: The dress was still perfect. But my ripped feet were ready to ruin everything. So I did what I was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to do for possible frostbite and bloody cuts—I filled the tub with hot water, sat myself on the edge, closed my eyes, and plopped my feet into the water. It was certainly dramatic.
So dramatic that I let out a yell that brought both Emily and Claire running to the door.
A great deal of banging ensued.
“Mom, are you okay in there?” asked Emily.
“What’s wrong? Why did you scream?” asked Claire.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Go get dressed.”
“What happened? Unlock the door,” Claire said.
I noticed little rivulets of blood, a definite pink cast to the bathwater, but I didn’t want their help. The fact was, I had one hour until the wedding, and I could barely stand. I should have let those two thoughtless kids get stoned out of their minds. But I couldn’t, I just couldn’t.
“If you two don’t go away immediately,” I shouted, “I will not let you come to my wedding.”
“But are you…?” asked Emily.
“Immediately.”
“You’re impossible,” said Claire.
“Okay, Claire. Now you can’t come to the wedding.”
“You’re impossible,” I heard her say again, but my x-ray vision could see her smile through the door. Emily’s too.
I took my feet out of the water and patted them dry with a towel.
Blood was still oozing from the ball of my right foot, and the rest of the skin was significantly scratched. By “significantly” I mean red and raw and bloody and hurting. I covered my feet with medicated powder (I wanted to scream again, but fought the urge). Then I stuck Band-Aids on a few particularly ragged wounds.
Uh-oh. Walking barefoot to my closet was painful.
I took down the box that contained my new Christian Louboutin shoes. I opened the carton, pushed my feet into the shoes, saw stars, and began to cry. If I knew nothing else about what would happen at the wedding, I knew this: I would not be standing in Christian Louboutin heels when I said “I do.”
“Mom, are you ready yet?” Seth shouted at the bedroom door.
“Almost,” I said. “Leave me alone. I’m collecting my thoughts. Deciding whom to marry.” That line almost made me smile.
“Well, come on downstairs as soon as you can. Remember, we’re going to have the family toast. Bart’s ready to pop the champagne. The kids are in the barn driving Stacey Lee crazy. Come on down.”
“Give me two minutes. Make it three.”
“Mom, c’mon!”
I grabbed a pair of white ankle socks from a drawer. I was thinking that my ankle-length dress was practically floor-length. If I walked slowly enough, and I hadn’t much choice because of the pain, chances were that no one would see my feet.
So I slipped into a pair of white Nikes with purple swooshes on the side.
Purple swooshes. Now, would you look at that? The sneakers actually matched my dress.
Chapter 52
I LOOKED GREAT.
There. I said it. I know it’s inappropriate and a little egocentric, but I did have a mirror in my bedroom, and I…looked…pretty terrific. The dress, of course, was one of a kind, just right, and my butt still appeared to be on vacation. For once my hair and the brush and the blow-dryer formed a nice relationship, so my curls had the right amount of wave and shine to them. The only piece of jewelry I wore was a small diamond