PAIGE

ONE YEAR LATER

          I haven't been to many weddings, but I'm convinced Brooke Sheridan is the most beautiful bride I've ever seen.

          Standing in her gorgeous white gown—long, with a sweetheart neckline and an intricate lace pattern adorning the back before it plunges into a long mermaid tail—she stares at her reflection in a golden mirror. Her hair falls in soft waves in front of her shoulder, with a braid wrapped around her head from one ear to the other, and easily stands out against her skin and dress. Her eyelids are shimmery, silver with blue accents, and we've kept the rest of the makeup on her face pretty discreet.

          Emphasis on shimmery. It's not just her eyelids, no. She's moments away from bursting into tears.

          "It's okay, everything I'm wearing is waterproof," she reassures us. We're armed with makeup wipes, ready to strike if anything happens. "I'm just . . . getting emotional. I can't believe this is real."

          "You better start believing it, then, because it's almost time for you to get out there," Nancy points out. Our bridesmaid dresses are rose gold, the perfect shade for her and Ripley. I don't think it looks particularly good on me, but I'm not about to make someone else's wedding about my preferences. "Deep breaths, Brie. You've got this. It's far from being the hardest thing you've ever done."

          To her credit, Brie does try to take a deep breath. From where I'm sitting, lounging on a chaise longue, nursing a mimosa, I can see her shoulders shake.

          I know she'll be fine. Even though I'm not a fan of people getting married this young, like the hypocrite that I am, I didn't expect anything else coming from her and Rhett.

          They got engaged shortly after graduation and, if it hadn't been for Andy dying, maybe they wouldn't have rushed. That, coupled with Lorelai Price and Dante Sheridan's wedding last year, has sent Brie into full panic mode.

          They postponed it for a while, not wanting to steal other people's thunder, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. No one wanted to attend two high-profile weddings one after the other, and I was glad to have an entire year to prepare myself for this. They were lucky to be able to reschedule everything, but I suspect it might have helped to do so months in advance instead of last minute.

          Brie, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of these changes.

          "What if I'm wasting my life?" she whispered, after two shots of tequila. The BRIDE TO BE sash wrapped around her was sliding off. "What if I wake up and Rhett won't want to marry me anymore?"

          "And in what world would that even be a possibility?" I asked, surprisingly composed after the copious amounts of shots I'd done the entire night. "Are we talking about the same Rhett Price here? The same Rhett Price who literally never shuts up about you? He's obsessed with you. In a good way," I added when her eyes widened in sudden panic. The last thing I needed was for her to be convinced her fiancé was a creepy stalker right before their wedding. "He loves you, Brie. There's nothing that guy wants more than to marry you. Do I think you're too young to get married? Maybe." She groaned. "Look on the bright side—you're getting married because you found the love of your life and don't want to spend another minute away from them. Not everyone is that lucky."

          "What if he's the love of my life, but I'm not the love of his life? What if he, like, looks at me while we're exchanging vows and realizes he doesn't actually love me? Maybe he loved the idea of me, or—"

          "No, no, no. We're not doing this spiral thing. Look at me." I grabbed her by the shoulders. When that didn't work and she slumped forward against the bar counter, I cupped her face between my hands and forced her to look me in the eye. Her eyes were a bit glazed and my speech was slurring, in retrospect, but I want to believe my words resonated with her. "No. You're Brooke Sheridan. You're a badass. That boy is the luckiest guy on Earth because he gets to marry you. He's been dreaming about this for years. You know, before you got back together and he was doing his thing with fucking Magnolia, he was pissing Andy off."

          She blinked. Two years, a year and a half ago, she would have turned into a crying, shaking mess at the mention of Magnolia Hawthorne's name.

          She was Rhett's situationship, the girl he turned to while he was too blind and stupid to realize he was still in love with Brie, and she casually pulled the biggest betrayal of all time. She took Rhett's trust in her and his confessions about his dad, a former hockey legend who's a recovering alcoholic, and published an academic article airing out his dirty laundry. No names were mentioned, but people knew.

          And he got screwed over. And then Brie came back, and the rest is history.

          "He kept asking Andy if he thought he was making a mistake by not reaching out to you and properly apologizing," I continued. "He'd wanted to make it up to you for years before actually talking to you. Instead of growing a pair and doing it, he went after Magnolia, and look at what happened. Disaster. Fair enough, you dated other—quite frankly, mediocre—guys, including that piece of shit Cole"—she gagged—"so your timing was off on both sides, but he did try. For years, Brie. He's been desperately in love with you for so, so long. Don't let your brain fool you into thinking otherwise."

          "I'm trying." She sniffled. "It's just . . . he can have anyone he wanted. I don't want him to settle for me because of nostalgia."

          "And he has who he wants." I booped her nose. "Andy talked him into going back for you. What a coincidence that Cole showed you his true colors exactly at the perfect time. Everything worked out."

          She took a deep breath through her mouth. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine." When her eyes met mine and I dropped my hands, they were softer. "Thank you."

          "For what? This little speech? It's nothing."

          "Yes, but everything else as well. You've been great."

          I knew what was hanging in the air, even if she didn't say it. I wasn't there as a replacement for Andy, and they wanted me, Paige, to be there.

          So, I decided to go ahead and let it out.

          "He would've been so, so happy for you guys," I told her, gently squeezing her wrist. Her smile was frail, but genuine. "I'm really sorry this isn't the perfect wedding. In an ideal world, he would be there."

          "He will. Maybe not physically, but he will."

          Present time: I can't have Brie back out. Not now.

          "Brie, focus," I say, springing up to my feet and walking up to her. We're both wearing heels, so I'm still taller than her. "You're getting married to the guy you love. He loves you more than anything in this world. He loves you more than hockey."

          "People really do contain multitudes," Ripley comments.

          "No, you're right," Brie agrees. "I can do this. What's the worst that can happen?"

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          Everyone knows nothing good ever follows those words.

          Unless you're Brooke Sheridan. In that case, everything works out perfectly.

          She glides down the gravel pathway, arm in arm with her dad, and Rhett nearly collapses just by looking at her. It's all so perfectly cliché and so them—the way his eyes fill with happy tears at the sight of her, how his dad jokingly tells him to keep it together, and how it almost makes me cry. Nancy is unashamedly weeping.

          Daniel Price is a superstar. A legend. He's standing where Andy would have been, as Rhett's best man, but he's not a replacement. He's the most important man in Rhett's life, the perfect person to stand by him today, and no one is treating him as a second choice.

          Keane catches my eye, standing next to the other groomsmen (how Rhett convinced both Dante and Flint Sheridan to do it, I don't know), and discreetly gestures for me to raise my chin. I happily oblige, although my stomach is tied in a tight knot. There's no reason someone should look that good in a suit, the black jacket open to show off the perfectly fitted white shirt underneath.

          "Behave," Ripley warns me through gritted teeth. "You can bang your man later."

          I take a deep breath. If heatstroke doesn't kill me, Keane Mahoney all dressed up just might.

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          I thank the heavens they're having an outdoor wedding. The reception being in the same location—an open field at a country club—does wonders to help me cool off, as it's unusually warm for Vermont, even in the summer.

          I expertly grab a glass of white wine from a passing server and drink a big gulp. It's refreshing, but there's still a thin layer of sweat coating the nape of my neck. At least I'm wearing my hair up.

          Keane finds me quicker than I can blink, blue eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. His arm wraps around my waist to pull me close, and I gladly step to stand next to him. Though it's boiling hot, being pressed to him is better than helping Daphne avoid Jeff, thanks to the awkward dissolution of their situationship last year . . . even though they're living together. It's complicated.

          "I was telling Rhett we're going to New York in two weeks," Keane says. After three days of not shaving, his stubble has grown enough to make him look older . . . and more attractive. His curls have fully stopped cooperating, and he makes it look so effortless. "I thought we'd finally get to see the infamous apartment, but they'll still be away on their honeymoon."

          "The NHL is letting you be away for that long?" I ask. "I thought they had you locked up in a cage."

          "If only," Rhett sighs. The stark black color of his suit brings out the green in his eyes. "Once we're back, I'll be back on the grind. Any chance you can postpone the trip?"

          "Probably not. We're on a schedule. We mostly freelance, so work hours are flexible, but there's . . . other things we need to take care of." Keane's hand tightens on my hip. He's playing a dangerous game. "Some other time, maybe."

          "Now who's keeping whom on a leash? The NHL? Or the girlfriend?"

          I open my mouth to answer, but Keane is faster.

          "The fiancée, actually."

          Oh, no. No, no, no. This isn't how it was supposed to get out.

          Knowing Rhett like I do, he won't take it well. Today is supposed to be all about him and Brie; so far, we've mostly succeeded. No one tries to bring up Daphne's personal assistant job (to Lottie Fitzpatrick, one of the greatest popstars to have ever lived), the end of the situationship, Jeff's slow attempt to get back on the ice, or Jackie's new football player boyfriend.

          Nothing comes between their happy ending. Not even me. I'll make sure of it.

          Rhett groans. "You are not proposing today. No. Absolutely not. Although if you were, the surprise was spoiled just now, so you definitely wouldn't be doing it. I'm doing you a favor."

          "Seriously?" I complain. "Is that the kind of people you think we are? The kind of people that get engaged during someone else's wedding?"

          "I think you like to upstage people. It wouldn't be too out of pocket."

          "Wow. You really are a dick. Who would've thought you had it in you?" I down what's left of my wine, then shove my hand right under his nose. "Look at it. Look at my fucking ring. I've been wearing it for a whole ass week. I know you've had your wedding to worry about, and I don't mind that you haven't noticed it, but we didn't tell you exactly because we didn't want to make this about us. But yes, go on and remind us of how inconsiderate we are."

          "Okay!" Keane gently sets a hand on my arm to pull me back before I get into a fistfight with the groom. "She's right. We didn't want to say anything because we didn't want this exact thing to happen. It slipped. I'm sorry."

          "No, we're sorry," Brie rushes to intervene. Rhett is still stunned, eyes shifting between me, Keane, and my ring. To his credit, he keeps his mouth shut. "Thank you for thinking of us. We didn't think you'd try to upstage us. Leave that to Jeff."

          "Hey," Jeff protests, mouth half full of avocado toast. "I didn't do 'nuthin."

          Eloquent as always.

          "Now let me see that ring. I like shiny things, I just got married, and I'm judgmental. There's no better person to comment on this."

          She's the least judgmental person I've ever met, even when my stupid brain was trying to convince me she—along with the rest of the world—hated me and wanted me dead.

          Sometimes those thoughts pass through unfiltered. Sometimes they hit me like a punch to the chest. Sometimes I retreat, close myself off to everyone, to the world, and almost believe they're all better off without me. I almost believe I'm better off without them, running no risk of getting hurt or ruining their lives.

          And other days, it's easier. Other days, the thought doesn't even cross my mind. When it does, there are times when I can argue back, fight for my sense of worth.

          I see it in my family, always eager to reach out a hand to bring me back when I'm stranded. They don't let me push them away. Even Izzy trusts me enough to know I can find my footing. No matter where I go, they'll always be home. And Andy will always be my home.

          I see it in my friends. A year after graduation, we don't see each other every day or talk as often as we could or should, but everyone puts in the effort. There's always a feeling of family, of knowing these people will hype me up, call me out, or offer a shoulder to cry on. I've discovered it doesn't make me weak to have to rely on other people; it makes me brave being able to ask for help and to trust that I'll receive it.

          I see it in Keane, looking at me with such love and tenderness, even when he thinks I'm not paying attention. It's the way he'll read my mind, figure out what I need before I can say it or even realize it first. I trust us to be a safe place to land for each other, even when we think there's no way out.

          We were stronger than everything we've faced—stupid arguments, my stupid ego, my self-sabotage, his need to always be right, the death of my brother, even the spirit box, Stellarville, and the lighthouse—and, if it wasn't clear before, it is now. There's no one else I'd rather be with. There's no one else I'd want to call my partner, my soulmate.

          "This is so stunning," Brie coos, taking my hand. The diamond ring reflects the sunlight and forms tiny rainbows on my skin. "It must have cost a fortune."

          "It's more what it represents," Keane clarifies, with a hand on the small of my back. "I'd propose with an onion ring if I had to. Izzy and Mrs. de Haan helped me choose. They would never let me buy anything less than extraordinary."

          "I get it. When you find it, you just know. Not just the ring, of course. The person. Aw, you guys!" She throws her arms around the two of us. Even with heels on, she still has to stand on her toes. Little Brie Sheridan-Price is all grown up. "I'm so, so happy for you. I knew you'd figure things out."

          "Hunting ghosts will do that to you. Sometimes you find nothing. Sometimes you find the love of your life." Brie squeals as she steps back. I'd squeal myself, but I'm above that. Just barely. I lean my cheek against his, his stubble scratching my face. "The gamble was worth it. I'll take my fiancée over the ghosts, no hesitation."

          "He just can't stop saying it," I add. "Seriously. He'll find a way of sliding it into every conversation."

          "I just like the way the word sounds. Everything sounds fancier in French."

          "Well, you deserve it," Rhett supports. It's his way of apologizing without saying the words, but we'll have time for that.

          We'll have all the time in the world; I no longer feel like I'm running out of time, bending and breaking to match an arbitrary schedule. It's okay to not have everything figured out, but the pieces of my life that matter the most are falling into place.

         I have a job as a social media manager that I love, working for CTRL/ALT, a digital media company that's coming for Buzzfeed's crown. Keane is one of their junior editors. I can travel, keep in touch with everyone I love, and still find time for myself. I still see my therapist.

          I can drive on my own. It took me forever, but I'm getting stronger each day.

          Andy lives on. Not just in Bennington, not just in me, but in everyone who loved him. It's what he would've wanted—to be remembered as someone who made an impact by who he was, not just his achievements.

          He was my brother, yes, but he was so much more than that.

          And I, too, am so much more than the grieving girl. More than the girl with the dead brother.

          I'm Paige de Haan. And I'm ready to face the world.

THE END

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

maybe the real ghosts are the friends we've made along the way. right?

SO. ANYWAY. HELLO. ANOTHER ONE DOWN.

this book was an absolute wild ride. i'm back to writing sad girls, my absolute FAVORITE. logan lerman is the white boy of the century. everything's right in cateland (no it's not. everything's terrible. but alas).

as always, thank you so so much for reading. if you've been around since the start, you're the goat. you're the mvp. you're the messi of readers. and i appreciate you so, so much. i know this book and paige were very different from FEMALE GAZE and brie and the crowd it has attracted is definitely not the same, but i hope this resonated with you somehow.

grief is a real bitch. but it doesn't have to rule your life. you can move forward, but you have to allow yourself to do it. you're not disrespecting the person you lost by moving forward with your life. the longer you keep holding on to that ghost, the longer you'll keep living in the past. the past is not your current reality. you'll have to adapt. and it's going to hurt like hell. but it'll be beautiful when you get there, i promise.

there WILL be a third book in the series. as we know. we're finally following jeff. thank GOD. he's a mess. but he's our mess. and he'll actually be going by his REAL first name?? wowzer. i kept forgetting his name is scott while writing this book, so every time someone fails to recognize him in the narration, that was me remembering. i'm a comedian.

(death to the spirit box)

thank you forever, from the bottom of my heart.

love,

cate