Free The Bridesmaid by Hailey Abbott Page B

story.
    She was about to head into her room when a voice froze her in her tracks.
    “No . . . no . . . you can’t do this to me.”
    It was Tucker, but his voice was coming from the bathroom.
    “No . . . Melissa . . . listen. I’m serious about this. . . .”
    Abby turned her head toward the bathroom. Melissa? Blood started to pound through her veins.
    There were a few more muffled words and Abby crept down the hallway to hear better.
    “Melissa . . . please . . .”
    Please? Please what? Abby thought. Was Tucker cheating on her sister right in her own house?
    Her foot hit the floor and the board beneath her let out a loud creak. Abby flew into her bedroom across the hall and quietly closed the door. She held her breath as she heard the bathroom door open, saw the shaft of light in the crack between door and floor. Finally it closed again and the light was gone. She heard Tucker saying goodbye and then waited as he walked back downstairs. Only when she heard the door between the residence and the Dove’s Roost close was Abby able to breathe again.
    She walked shakily over to her bed and sat down. She knew it! She knew Tucker was too good to be true! Oh, God. Why did I have to come upstairs? Abby thought.
    But then . . . wasn’t it better this way? If she hadn’t come upstairs just then, she never would have found out who this guy really was. Sure Carol would be crushed for a while, but that was infinitely preferable to hitching herself to a cheater, right?
    Abby leaned back on her bed and went over everything she had just heard. She knew exactly what Noah would say. Maybe Tucker’s actions were suspicious, but she hadn’t actually heard anything that proved his guilt. He hadn’t said “I love you” or “I need you” or “Meet me down at the docks for some mad, crazy sex.”
    I need more proof, Abby thought. I just have to find out what he’s up to for sure. Find out who Melissa is. And once I do, Carol will thank me. She’ll thank me for stopping her before she makes a seriously huge mistake.
    Abby’s list of songs NOT to play at the wedding:
    “Celebration” (Come on already)
    “We Are Family” (Enough. We know you got all your sisters. We’re very happy for you. Move on.)
    “Hot, Hot, Hot” (No one looks good doing the conga.)
    “I Will Survive” (Why do they play this at every wedding? It’s a breakup song. Are the bands trying to be ironic?)
    All songs with accompanying choreographed dances, including, but not limited to:
    “Macarena”
    “Electric Slide”
    “The Chicken Dance Song”
    “Locomotion”
    “The Twist”
    Any and all love songs (Kind of hypocritical considering the groom may be fooling around on the bride, no?)

• 6 •
    Bridal Chic
    Abby rested her forehead on the table and let out a groan. Delila looked up, her green eyes expectant beneath her battered Dave Matthews Band baseball cap. “ Come stai, Abigail?” she asked.
    “ Io , um, stai bad,” Abby said. It was Monday after school and the two friends were sitting outside at Starbucks.
    “Okay, your Italian sucks donkey doody,” Delila said.
    “D, what am I gonna do?” Abby asked, sitting up. “Can I really let her marry this guy?”
    Abby took a sip of the espresso Delila had ordered for her and almost choked. After consuming one quarter of the cup her entire mouth tasted like the drain in the bottom of the catering sink after a wedding.
    “P.S., this stuff sucks,” she said.
    “You’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re going to Italy,” Delila said. “When in Rome . . .”
    “Okay, forget Italy,” Abby said. “What do I do about Tucker?”
    Delila leaned back in her chair, squinting toward the sun as if it held the answer.
    “You really think he’s cheating on her?” she asked.
    “D, you should’ve heard that phone call,” Abby said. She clasped her hands together dramatically. “Melissa . . . please! You can’t do this to me!”
    “See, that’s what doesn’t make sense,” Delila