Revisions, Revisions

“Emily, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I grin and look at Ben. His golden blond hair is perfectly in place for the first time in his life, and his eyes are still glassy from when he cried as I walked down the aisle. Today is the most magical, perfect day – except it’s not.

“No,” I answer, and several people in the crowd gasp and there’s a murmur of voices questioning whether they’ve heard right. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get married today. Actually, there’s somewhere else I need to be right now.”

I scoop up the front of my dress and run out of the church, not giving Ben or anyone else a chance to try to change my mind. Outside, there’s the fancy sports car I was expecting to see, and waiting for me is a handsome, dark-haired man leaning against the passenger side.

“Emma, my love,” he says, enveloping me in a hug, “I was starting to worry that you’d changed your mind. Are you ready to go?”

I pull back and look into his dark eyes, glimmering with hope. I bury my face back into his broad chest and inhale his scent. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.”

That’s a lie, though. This morning, I was fully prepared to marry Ben, and I was so sure that I’d be spending the rest of my life with that man. But then suddenly, I wasn’t, and I knew I had to go to Carlo, which I’m suddenly remembering is this handsome stranger’s name. But he’s not a stranger, is he? No, I know him; I love him. He’s the man I want to be with, and I was making a mistake marrying Ben.

Carlo opens the door for me, and I slide into the car, grateful that I’d changed out of my wedding dress before stepping in. Wait, when did I change? I guess when you impulsively run out of a church full of people who rearranged their plans to watch you get married, things get a little foggy.

There’s a little pink slip of paper stuck to the dashboard, and I pick it up and read the bullet points scrawled in black ink:

·     Runaway bride

·     Childhood friends to lovers

·     Honeymoon in Italy

Right, Italy. We’re on our way to the airport to go on my planned honeymoon. It feels wrong to go without Ben, but the trip is nonrefundable, and I’m looking forward to two weeks alone with Carlo. I can’t remember the last time we were alone together. To be honest, I’m having a hard time remembering ever being alone with him.

There’s another pink slip in the cup holder and it’s just got the name Carlo scratched out and replaced with Matteo. His name is Matteo, not Carlo. Did he change it? I can’t remember now, but I’m glad I didn’t say something stupid aloud.

“You ready?” All I can do is nod quietly and Carlo – I mean, Matteo – places a hand on top of mine, and I realize I’m shaking. I guess I was more nervous than I thought about this whole thing. Why didn’t I just cancel the wedding ahead of time? I can’t quite recall the reason now, but I’m sure there’s a good explanation.

I blink and we’re at the airport. Did I fall asleep? I must have because I don’t remember any of the drive after Matteo touched my hand. He’s already made his way to my side of the car and he’s opening the door for me again. What a gentleman. That’s one of the reasons I started falling for him over all these years.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” an old woman says, handing me another pink sheet of paper, “I think you dropped this.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though I don’t think the paper is mine. On it, the word ‘honeymoon’ is crossed out and replaced with ‘girls’ trip.’

“Emmy!” My head snaps up and I see my best friend, Jamie, waving me over. “I thought you’d never make it. What took so long?”

I turn back to ask Carlo-Matteo whether he planned this, but he’s gone, and instead of the fancy sports car, there’s a grumpy taxi driver shoving my bag at me and muttering about me taking up all his precious time. What the hell is going on?

Jamie jogs over and pulls me into a tight hug. “Aw, Emmy, how are you?”

“Fine,” I mumble, wriggling out of her grip. “What are you doing here?”

Jamie pouts and hugs me again. “You poor baby. This girls’ trip is going to be exactly what you need to get your mind off Ben.”

“I think I’m already over Ben, honestly.” Jamie’s eyebrows shoot up and I just shrug. “I guess he just wasn’t the man I was meant to marry, and I’m glad I realized it before it was too late.”

She studies me, a look of concern passing over her features. “I mean, did you, babe? I know it’s been a week, but he literally left you at the altar, so it’s not like you called the whole thing off before he could. But if you say you’re okay, I won’t press you for any more info.”

Ben left me last week? But I literally just walked out on our wedding an hour ago, didn’t I? Or maybe I didn’t. I guess I’m more messed up from this whole thing than I thought. Here I am dreaming up handsome Italian men whisking me away from a wedding that was doomed to fail when in reality, I’d spent this last week sobbing and binging on ice cream in Jamie’s apartment.

“I’m good,” I say, “and I am beyond ready for Italy.”

She looks at me like I’ve grown another head, and I’m getting the feeling that I’m forgetting something again. “Well, I hope you won’t be too disappointed that we’re going to Cancun, then.”

I force out a laugh, a little too loud. “Kidding! Of course we’re going to Cancun. I’ve got my ticket right here in my purse, duh!”

I start rifling through my purse, desperate for some sign that I’m not completely losing it. Dread courses through my veins as I spy not only my plane ticket, but another pink slip of paper. I want to rip it to shreds without even reading it, but curiosity gets the better of me.

‘Cancun with Jamie, getting over heartbreak, possible vacation fling/rebound?’

“Hey, baby.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the deep voice in my ear, and there’s a man’s arm draping itself around my waist – my bare waist because I’m in a bikini on the beach. My eyes travel from the man’s arm to his face, and oh, what a face. He’s tall, tan, and I don’t know whether to be more impressed by his super long hair or his full beard.

Suddenly, he places a kiss to my neck, and I push him away quickly, leaving him looking stunned. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Em, what’s wrong?” He’s not a stranger if he knows my name, but he’s still unfamiliar to me. I remember the paper in my purse mentioning a rebound, and now I’m looking at this gorgeous man and wondering whether he’s my summer fling. How much have I been drinking on this trip that I can’t remember these things? God, how could I forget those abs…

“Sorry,” I say quickly, “I guess I’m just not feeling too great. You know, the heat and all the alcohol and whatnot.”

“Do you want to come back to my room?”

Yes. “No, I’m just going to find Jamie and head back to ours. See you later!”

I take off running before he can protest, and my heart is beating so fast I can hear it in my ears. Something’s not right here, and I need to find Jamie and get the hell out of here before anything else weird happens. But after ten minutes of searching, I’m too damn hot and tired, so I sit down at a table and order a lemonade. No more alcohol for me today.

A kind-faced woman brings over my lemonade and as I take it from her, I can’t help but groan when I see another pink sheet of paper stuck to the bottom of the glass. What else could possibly happen? I take the sheet and read it aloud.

“What if there’s a murder?”

As soon as the words have left my mouth, there’s a blood-curdling shriek coming from the beach, and I immediately recognize the voice that’s now calling for help. Jamie. I jump up from the table and run as fast as I can back to the beach, where I find Jamie looking terrified in the arms of some unfamiliar man. I can only assume that she was with him while I was searching for her.

“Jamie!” She runs to me, relief crossing her features. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh my god, Emmy, you’re okay! I was so worried.” She looks over to where a crowd has gathered and I’m just now realizing that my mystery man is lying bloodied on the sand, and my face is hot. I guess there was a murder after all.

I want to grab Jamie and make a run for it. We should just get on a plane and go home and pretend all this never happened. I want to go back to before Ben ever walked out on our wedding and dump him so none of this stuff happens. No trip, no murder, no damn pink papers rewriting the story.

The papers… what if there are more of them? What if they decide that I should be a suspect because I was with that man last? It doesn’t matter that I don’t even know his name or anything about him. I probably killed him because those stupid papers say so. Or maybe Jamie’s mystery man killed mine. Maybe he’s a mafia boss or something.

Whatever the hell is going on, I don’t want to stick around for it, so I grab Jamie’s arm and start pulling her away from the scene. “Let’s get out of here, Jamie. I want to go home.”

“Wait,” she says, stopping to bend down and pick something up and I want to yell at her to stop because I know exactly what it is. “Did you drop this?”

I take the paper with a shaky hand and unfold it, terrified of what might be written. Oh god, I’m going to jail, aren’t I? Or maybe I’m about to walk right into my death… I take a deep breath and scan the words on the sheet in front of me.

‘Note to self:

Think of an ending. Or maybe scrap this whole idea.

P.S. Buy more 0.5 mm pens.’