You May Now Kill the Bride (Return to Fear Street Book 1)
You May Now Kill the Bride: Part 2 – Chapter 18

I stayed in her room a while longer, and Marissa and I chatted about less serious things. We talked about Max and what an impossible little troublemaker he is. We talked about her dress, and she showed me two different pairs of shoes. She couldn’t decide which was best. They were both perfect, of course.

We talked about Robby and how obsessed he was with Nikki. Marissa said she begged our parents to invite Nikki, but they said the wedding was already too big for the lodge.

Marissa rolled her eyes. “Of course, it had nothing to do with how they think Nikki is all wrong for Robby,” she said sarcastically.

“They think she’s a psycho,” I said, chuckling. “They’re not wrong. I mean, some of the things she says are just nuts. She has no filter at all.”

Marissa nodded. “And Robby loves it. He thinks she’s a rebel. She’s so out there all the time. She doesn’t even try to control herself.”

We were silent for a moment.

“And what’s with Doug?” I asked casually, trying to keep it light.

She shrugged again. “No clue. I thought he’d want to spend some time with me tonight. But instead, he went off with some of his friends.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t get it. He already had his big bachelor party in Atlantic City, which he won’t tell me anything about. Why did he choose to hang with the guys again tonight?”

“He’s probably just nervous,” I said, scrambling for an answer. “Just needed to blow off some steam. Doug lets things build up, right? He isn’t really good at talking about stuff.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I guess you could say he’s bottled up sometimes.” She stared at the wall, as if she’d never thought of this before.

“Well, after tomorrow, you can put the handcuffs on, chain him to the living room couch.”

She smiled but she didn’t laugh.

I couldn’t tell if I was cheering her up or not. But I knew I was starting to feel a lot better. “Know what we need?” I said, jumping to my feet. “We need a few beers. Follow me to the bar?”

She thought about it, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She swept her hand back through her hair. “I need my beauty rest, you know?”

She stood up and followed me to the door. I turned and we hugged. It was a genuine hug, an honest moment between us. Maybe we could start to be closer. Well . . . that’s what I thought.

I decided to take a walk. Breathe some fresh air. I walked through the lobby. I could hear music and voices from the bar down the hall, but I kept walking to the front doors.

I found myself in a cool, windless night. A blanket of clouds above blocked out the moon, and I couldn’t see any stars. Uh-oh. Maybe it was going to rain tomorrow.

A wide paved path led around the front of the lodge, and I followed it to the other end, walking behind a low evergreen hedge lined with spring flowers, mostly azaleas and crocuses and freesias, and a few daffodils.

I took deep breaths. It smelled sweet. Heavenly. I had this flash: I could lose myself in the night. Everything felt so fresh and alive.

The path led down, away from the lodge. Someone had planted a long row of apple trees, and their blossoms were mostly on the ground, already fallen, light and white as feathers.

I turned back. The darkness was rich and black. The light escaping from the lodge windows didn’t reach this far down the slope.

What would happen if I just kept walking?

I guess weddings give you all kinds of crazy thoughts.

I kept thinking about Marissa married. Marissa and Doug. Just as they had planned in high school.

High school sweethearts. Marissa and Doug.

His family couldn’t afford to send him to college. He went part-time to the community college in Martinsville, and he worked at his cousin’s furniture store.

Marissa went off to Wisconsin to go to school in Madison. But they promised they’d stay together. They wouldn’t fall apart. They promised each other to stay true.

Sweet story, huh?

The memories swirled in my head. The combination of the faces, the names, the memories, and the heavy sweet fragrance of the flowers and the air—it was all making me feel high. Kind of light and giggly. You know, that floating feeling, where everything is a blur and you don’t mind it at all?

I stretched and raised my face to the sky. If only I knew a spell to keep this moment alive forever. . . .

A shiver ran down my back. I was suddenly chilled. I turned and started to climb up the path. Light from the lodge windows rolled over me, and I began to feel heavy again, back down to earth.

The front driveway came into view, and then the lodge entrance. And I stopped with a gasp and watched a tall figure step out of a red sports car and go loping toward the entrance.

Was that . . . Aiden?

No. It couldn’t be. I was still lost in the whirlwind of memories. Aiden Murray wouldn’t be here. No way.

But he was as tall as Aiden, and broad-shouldered. He had that athletic, forceful stride, and he wore that same stupid newsboy cap over his curly blond hair, the hat that everyone teased him about.

He stopped and talked to a tall, red-haired valet. He gestured toward the red sports car, and the valet handed him a ticket. Then, adjusting his hat, he turned and stepped into the light of the lodge entrance.

And I saw his face.

And started to run toward him, my shoes slipping on the dew-wet path. “Aiden? Is that you?” I shouted. “Aiden?”