I'm rambling and repeating myself and need to stop before I dig a second grave. I take a second to breathe. "Ben, I don't just think I love you. I know I do."

I close my eyes and tears stream down my face. I end the call and let the phone fall to my lap. I put both hands on the steering wheel and pitch forward, allowing myself to cry for a moment before starting the engine and driving home. I finish my one bottle of wine that I had left before dinner and regret not going to the store to get more on my way home from work.

Oh well. I'll get it tomorrow. I keep my phone on me, ringer up as loud as it can, and work on my Comic Con costume until 1 AM.

Ben never calls.

After saying what I said on the message, I don't know what else to do, how else to prove to him I'm sorry and that I want to be with him. I'm exhausted when I get out of the shower and get under the covers. I lie away for an hour, a sick feeling of regret replacing any and all hope that I had left in me.

I f.u.c.ked up. And I'm going to have to live with that.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

"You did your final fitting, right?" my mom asks me as I walk out of work Thursday. The wedding is only days away and everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off. And according to Dad, who swears he's seen it, chickens really do run around after you take an ax to their neck. I don't believe him.

"I did," I lie. I haven't even tried the d.a.m.n thing on since I picked it up. Years of making costumes has left me a rather good seamstress. I need to go home and do that ASAP. It's going to be a long night. "It looks great. And I have my shoes and the jewelry Danielle wants us to wear."

"Just making sure," Mom says. "I'm excited to see you all dressed up! And to see your boyfriend again. Who knows, maybe wedding bells are in your future too!"

I internally wince. I never heard from Ben. I got a big fat nothing after I poured my heart out in that message. No calls, no texts. He hadn't even updated his Instagram since last week.

"Maybe," I say and force myself to inhale slowly. I spent all of yesterday trying to pull myself out of the self-pity puddle I'd melted into. I'm dripping, but at least I'm standing and not drowning now. "I need to go. See you tomorrow. Love you, bye!"

I hang up before Mom can go on even more. I'll see her in the afternoon tomorrow. I'm working a half day then going back to her house, where I'll stay for the weekend. Where I'll have to tell her why Ben isn't with me.

I don't want to do that. I don't want to deal with anyone's pity, and I don't want to be reminded how utterly alone I am at my little brother's wedding. I'm not conventional by any means, but knowing he's younger than me and getting married first stings. Just a bit.

I stop at the store on the way home. My period started in the middle of the night Tuesday and I'm down to my last tampon ... and it needs to be changed. Now. I was worried all day something would travel down the crack ca.n.a.l and leave a not-so-fun stain on the back of my pants. I'm pretty sure the universe really does hate me. I sigh. At least Aunt Flo should pack up and leave by Sat.u.r.day. I really need to get on some sort of birth control. This inconsistent uterine bleeding ruined my second favorite pair of PJ pants.

I accidentally looked into the eye of the Target symbol and was bespelled, and my basket is half full of stuff I don't really need by the time I reach the feminine hygiene aisle.

"Hey, Felicity."

Oh for the love of all things good in this world. Why does it have to be her? I press my lips together.

"Mindy, hi," I say flatly. I look past her for the brand of tamps I want. She pulls a pink box of panty liners down and puts it in her cart.

"What's wrong with Ben?" she asks, cutting to the chase.

"I don't know," I mutter and grab a variety box.

"I'm sure you do. He left work Tuesday morning and didn't come back until today. He's been quiet and in and out all day and doesn't want to talk about 'it,' whatever that means. I'm pretty sure he was at the nursing home. Did his dad die?"

My heart stops in my chest. He mentioned it just once, while we were fighting. His father has memory issues and needs constant care. Oh f.u.c.k.

"He'll talk about it when he's ready," I say and keep walking. "Bye."

She doesn't say "see you this weekend at the wedding," thank G.o.d. Though, she still might show up. Who knows. I get what I need, pay for it, run to the ladies' room, and high-tail it home. I have some research to do.

Within an hour, I know that Ben's father lives at Meadow View Centers in downtown Grand Rapids. I hacked into the admission records, but drew the line at digging into medical records. I'm no criminal anymore.

His father was admitted a month before Ben moved here from New York.

It all makes sense now, and it hurts my heart even more. Ben left his dream job, left a potential for national recognition and fame as an artist for his family. He really wasn't anything like the player I thought he was, that I knew he really isn't. I was so scared of what could be, I let what actually is fly right by.

I close my laptop and bite my lip, trying to decide what to do. I pick up the phone and punch in the number for Meadow View. It rings for a long minute before someone answers.

"Hi, is James Hartford available?" I ask the nurse.

"He's in the dining room eating dinner," she says and relief floods through me. "Can I take a message?"

"No," I say, relieved even more. I didn't actually want to talk to him. "I'll call back. Thanks, bye." I hang up before I'm questioned and hope they don't check the caller ID.

Ben's dad is alive at least, though I know that didn't mean he was "okay" by any means.

I sigh. Now what? Should I call Ben again? Give it just one more shot? I don't want to come across as desperate, but that's exactly what I am.

And people do desperate things for the ones they love.

I call Ben, hands shaking as the phone rings. He doesn't hang up, but he doesn't answer.

"Ben," I say to his voicemail. "It's me. I'm sorry, and I miss you. Can we please talk in person? I ... I just need to know."

I hang up and close my eyes, wondering how long it will take before I'm back to my old self. I was happy. A little lonely, yeah, but I was doing all right. Living and loving life and just being me.

I want that again, but not as much as I want Ben.

I didn't get the dress altered in time before I pa.s.sed out on the floor of my guest room. I woke up at 4 AM, crawled into bed, and slept for two more hours until my alarm blared. Then I called into work and said I was sick.

I'm feeling guilty now as I sit behind the sewing machine. Cameron is concerned; he said he noticed how quiet I've been over the last few days and wants me to take it easy so I can get better and be back to my old self Monday morning.

I let out a breath and cut a thread. Almost done. I like making costumes, but altering this dress made out of horribly flowy material ... not so much. It didn't take much work. I had to shorten the hem and let it out around the b.o.o.bs. I pull out the pins, snip any extra hanging threads, and try it on.

Perfect fit.

Finally. I wrinkled the dress when I altered it, so I take it into the bathroom, hang it on the shower curtain, and get my steamer. I never realized how helpful being into costuming would be. Not everyone has a vast array of thread colors or steamers available in their homes.

I clean up and start packing my bag. I need something fancy to wear to the rehearsal dinner tonight, since the Boba Fett dress probably won't go over well with my parents. I settle for a plain black dress and my Harry Potter heels. I gather everything I'll need for tomorrow and load up the car. I lose myself in League of Legends for a while, until it's ready to say bye to Ser Pounce and make the long drive home alone.

The house is empty when I arrive. I a.s.sume everyone is at Jake's or the hotel where family is staying. I use the time alone to take everything up to my room. I had planned on staying in one of the available cabins with Ben, but that's not really necessary anymore.

I take my computer downstairs, find the leftover booze from last weekend's party, and pour myself a gla.s.s of red moscato. Then I settle on the couch and make it through one-and-a-half episodes of Supernatural before my parents come home.

"Oh good, you're here!" Mom says as soon as she walks through the door. She's wearing those temporary Styrofoam flip-flops they put on you when you get a pedicure. Dammit. I knew there was something I was supposed to do. I bend my legs and hide my feet under my body. There is nail polish in the upstairs bathroom. Left over from my childhood, but if I shake it enough it'll be okay. Right? I hope so.

I cannot get my s.h.i.t together to save my life.

"Where else would I be?" I ask her.

"I called you and you didn't answer!"

"Oh, yeah, left my phone upstairs." I pause the episode, leaving Dean in an awkward position with Castiel. I snicker to myself.

"Did you remember your dress?"

"Yes."

"And your shoes?"

"Yes, Mom."

"And the necklace Danielle got you?"

I tap my neck. "I'm wearing it."

Mom sets her purse down and comes into the living room. "Good." She inhales and closes her eyes for a second before exhaling. "I'm so nervous. I'm having heart palpitations."

"Calm down, Mom. The last thing we need is you pa.s.sing out."

"I'm not going to pa.s.s out. Why, do I look like I'm going to pa.s.s out? I'm not pale, am I? I skipped the sunscreen a few times this summer to get a glow." She spits that all out rather quickly.

"No, Mom, you look gorgeous. The tan is very youthful. Just relax. Danielle has that fancy wedding planner, and everything else is all set. It's going to be perfect."

Mom smiles at me. "Yes, it is. And I'll worry more at your wedding, anyway. At least I'm not paying for this one."

I roll my eyes.

"Speaking of," she stars. "Where is your hunky boyfriend, Ben?"

I clench my jaw, locking eyes with my mother. I want so badly to tell her everything, to cry and blame myself for losing him, and to have my mommy hug me and tell me it's going to be okay. Life sucks for a while for everyone, but then things get better. They always do. They have to.

But I don't tell her.

She's already stressed and this weekend is all about Jake. I don't want to take that away from him, and I don't want my mom to worry any more than she already is.

"He had this big art event he couldn't turn down. Something about investors in New York," I say, unable to look at Mom as I lie. I go back to my computer, trying to seem uninterested. "He'll try to come tomorrow."

"Oh, what a shame. But I understand. And your cousin Randy will gladly fill in for him if he can't make it."

"Ew, Mom, that's super creepy."

She waves her hand in the air. "No, he just looks up to you."

"Mom. He has a picture of me hanging in his room. And his locker at school."

"He graduated high school this past year. So just one picture of you."

I wrinkle my nose. "The one in the room is the creepiest. It's right above the lotion and tissues."

"Why would he-oh, don't go there, Felicity."

"You're the one who brought it up."

She presses a smile and shakes her head. "I'm going to get everything ready for tomorrow. Do you want me to pack you snacks?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Do you have to ask?"

"That's my girl. There is chicken salad in the fridge. Eat something before we leave. We're going to the venue after the rehearsal so dinner won't be until later. Danielle wants everyone there in case the planner needs help."

I roll my eyes. "What's the point of hiring a planner if we have to help her? Jake told me what that lady cost."

Mom purses her lips. "It's her day. Just go with it and then you won't have to see her until Thanksgiving."

"Fine." I won't go into why it's not just Danielle's day, but Jake's too. I finish my episode of Supernatural, eat, then go upstairs to do my hair and change. I'm ready before Mom, and join my dad on the couch.

"You don't seem like yourself, kiddo," he says, even though he's only seen me in pa.s.sing since I got here.

I force a smile. "Just tired, that's all."

Dad nods, not convinced. I turn back to the show he's watching. As much as I'd like to think I could totally survive the zombie apocalypse, I know I wouldn't last two days on Naked and Afraid. I shudder at the thought of bugs in my coochie.

Mom's running late, and is getting b.i.t.c.hy at Dad like it's his fault. He shakes his head. This happens a lot, and he's used to it. We pile into the car and drive to the church. Dark clouds are gathering overhead. None of us say anything, but I know we're all thinking it: Danielle is going to lose her s.h.i.t if it rains.

Though Danielle isn't originally from Mistwood, the small, beach community is picture perfect for her wedding. Any wedding, really. I've driven past this old place of worship many times but haven't been inside. It's white with a tall steeple that has a bell tower and flowering bushes around the church front.

It looks like something straight out of a Lifetime Movie Channel wedding special. I'm not expecting this ball of emotion to roll around like lead in my stomach, choking me up and bringing tears to my eyes. I blink and turn away from my parents, inhale then press forward and walk into the church behind them. I'm so happy for Jake, proud he manned up over the years and is ready to settle down and be a husband.

And I'm so p.i.s.sed at myself for hurting Ben. For throwing away my chance at maybe-just maybe-being a wife someday. Another deep breath. Hold it. Let it out slow. Okay. I'm feeling a bit better.

Danielle is sitting on a stool near the altar, with her bridesmaids gathered around her. I would have been totally fine not being one. I'm only included because I'm Jake's sister, not because Danielle and I have any sort of friendship going.

Zoey turns and gives me the side eye. Great. I'd nearly forgotten about her. I channel my inner Hermione once again, reminding myself that what is right isn't always easy-thanks, Dumbledore for that one-and fake a smile. I go to the rest of the bridesmaids and tell Danielle she looks so pretty.

Ten awkward minutes tick by as we wait for the last to arrive, then start the rehearsal. It's a standard church ceremony: we walk in, take our places at the altar, wait for the bride ... blah, blah, blah ... and then we get to sit for the church part of the wedding. Danielle is already crying as she walks down the aisle, carrying a bouquet of ribbons and bows. Then I see the way Jake is looking at her and, f.u.c.k, I'm a goner too. I hold in my tears, crying on the inside like a winner.

We run through the procession five times. Five. Anyone who's seen a wedding movie knows how to do this. Even the priest looks bored when Danielle wants to go over it one more time.

Finally, we're done practicing the lineup. My stomach grumbles and I think we're going to go to the venue but nope, the photographer is here to take pictures. Is that a thing now? I'm glad I did my hair and makeup.