Chapter One April 2019 It was totally normal to be terrified the day of your own wedding, right? Maybe terrified wasn't the right word. Mandy was nervous. Anxious. Petrified. Her stomach seemed to shimmy its way further and further into her chest as she sat alone in her private hotel suite, staring at the long gown hanging from the curtain rod. All Mandy had to do was slip into the first-and last-white dress she would ever wear. Well, that and do her makeup and get her hair done and about a million other things. But she hesitated. More specifically, she couldn't move even if she wanted to. Had she really been so lucky not only to find the love of her life, but also to be getting married? This was a good thing. Something she'd always wanted. And now, she was mere hours away from walking down an aisle sprinkled with rose petals in various shades of pink-why couldn't she breathe? No. Today was going to be fine. Better than fine. She took a deep sip from the coffee mug death-gripped in her hand, the steam fogging her vision as she continued to stare at her dress. There wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about the garment hanging there. It was simple, understated-except for the small train. It was definitely not something Mandy was used to picking out. She had always been known for her affection for black-or shades of black-in all her clothing choices, but that day, as she stood on the little podium in front of the three-way mirrors and felt the buttery silk lining caressing her skin as she was zipped inside the cream-colored gown, she never wanted to take it off. Except now, putting it on seemed impossible. Or maybe it was that today seemed improbable. On the surface, it all seemed simple-small tasks she needed to complete to get to her moment of walking down that aisle-but there was nothing simple about getting married. It wasn't that she thought she was making the wrong choice. No, that wasn't it at all. This was a day Mandy had dreamed about for years-even decades, if she thought hard enough about it. The lace dress hanging on its satin hanger. The pink and white peonies tied together with gold ribbon. The light blue Chuck Taylors with I DO written on the soles. They were all a part of this perfect vision she had for herself on this day, and they were all waiting for her. Soon over two hundred people would be waiting for her too. But here-now-in this hotel room, it was Mandy alone with her thoughts. And this, being alone, stirred memories inside her belly like ice cubes in a blender, sending gooseflesh rippling all over her skin. She'd kill for a margarita right about now. The hotel minibar was looking quite tempting-even at fifty dollars a miniature bottle-not as small as the airplane ones, but also not full-size, completely overpriced, and a terrible choice this early in the day . . . even if it would dull the nerves raging inside her. Mandy had been in love more times than she wanted to count. Her heart had been broken just as many. Would this wedding mark the last time she'd put her whole soul into someone? Or was this the inevitable beginning of the end, and she'd be left scooping up the shattered pieces of her heart yet again? Mandy both knew it was different this time and struggled with the sense of impending doom as if the other shoe-a black Chuck with I DON'T emblazoned on the bottom-was about to drop and crush all the dreams she'd been constructing for as long as she could remember. These were not the kinds of thoughts someone should have on their wedding day, but they spun through her mind and stuck like melted marshmallow. A cobweb of white gooey uncertainty that she needed to clean away. The Belgian waffle she special-ordered sat untouched in front of Mandy as she took another long drink of her coffee and watched the pulp in her orange juice drift to the bottom of her glass. Edmund hated fresh-squeezed orange juice, said juice should be sipped and never chewed, but Mandy loved to catch the little bulbs of fruit flesh between her teeth and bite down. Little explosions, like nature's Pop Rocks. But she couldn't bring herself to drink it today, or even take a bite. Instead, she alternated between staring at her dress and staring at the uninspired artwork hanging on the wall. It was the basic bulk buy most hotels did-some cheap reproduction they put in a gaudy frame in an attempt to make it look expensive. Mandy could've painted something better with her eyes closed. Thankfully the bed was comfortable enough, and the coffee was hot-unlike her shower. She tried to convince herself it wasn't a sign of how things would go today. But the fact that she had woken up late, and the icy water, and then room service forgot the bacon with her order, well, things weren't off to a great start. She sat in the hotel-issued bathrobe, towel wrapped around her wet hair, trying to get warm-willing herself to believe all those things were not omens or harbingers of doom, and that they, in fact, had nothing to do with each other. They were all just flukes. One-offs. Not the universe's way of preparing her for what was to come. She really should go down to the desk and complain, but that would be one more thing to add to Mandy's to-do list, and she couldn't move. Why was there this great importance placed on weddings anyway? One day in a relationship blown out of proportion compared to all the other days a couple proved their commitment and love for each other. Why today and not last Tuesday? Not to say that Mandy hadn't bought into the hype. Hell, she was the hype. Teen Mandy could've looked at bridal magazines for hours. Adult Mandy just had to have the ever-fashionable s'mores bar at her reception complete with miniature chalkboard signs that named each individual ingredient even though it was an additional charge. Add-on packages were Mandy's Achilles' heel. They were literally made for her. She needed everything to be perfect. But why? And for whom? It was just a day, wasn't it? Marriage was for a lifetime, right? "The Imperial March" blasted from Mandy's cell, and she quickly swept it up. "Yes, I'm up, and I have food." "Good," her mom said. "We don't want you passing out during your vows." "That can't really happen, can it?" There was a reason Mom's ringtone was what it was. Mandy's mother was the queen of giving others just one more thing to worry about. If Mandy actually made it down the aisle without slipping on one of the rose petals, now there was a possibility she'd end up on the ground in a dead faint, embarrassing herself more than she had in the fifth-grade talent show, and that was beyond humiliating. How many people there would be repeat audience members? Isa would laugh her ass off. Aunt Mary would snap the world's worst candids that would haunt Mandy at every family event from now until the end of time. "Not if you eat something." Mom tried to sound reassuring, but once the anxiety train got rolling down Mandy's track, there was little that could slow it. "Have you talked to Isa today?" It was like Mom knew exactly what Mandy needed. Her best friend. The person she'd been able to count on for anything and everything since kindergarten. Just hearing her name seemed to calm the swarming hornets in Mandy's stomach. "I texted her, but she's probably not awake yet." Mandy used the side of her fork to slice off a piece of waffle, dipped it in the now-cold maple syrup, and shoved it into her mouth. She was not fainting today. No way. No how. "Well, I'm sure you'll hear from her soon." Mandy hoped. Isa was the only one who would be able to convince Mandy she was just being silly with her thoughts of "signs from the universe." "You picked up the programs from the printer, right? And have the box of favors to give to the caterer? Oh, and did you get a chance to call-" "Everything is taken care of. There's nothing you need to worry about right now except for making sure you get ready," Mom said. "Don't forget the hairstylist will be there within the hour, so you need to get a move on if you're going to be on time for pictures." "Yes, Mom," Mandy said with a mouthful. Despite not being hungry, she thought the waffle was delicious-crisp on the outside, and soft, still a little warm in the middle. "Now don't get angry," Mom said, and Mandy's heart started pounding. Nothing good ever came after those words. Like the time Mom took Mandy to get a perm. Or the time Mom threw out Mandy's entire seashell collection. "But I bought those shoes just in case you wanted to have them for the pictures." Mandy shouldn't have told her mother about the baby-blue tennis shoes she purchased-but she had been so excited about them. Mom reacted exactly as expected. Creased brow. Puckered lips like she took a bite of expired yogurt. "I have shoes." Mandy attempted to keep her voice level, but she should've seen this coming. This was Mom's MO. "I know. I know. And you can do what you want. But you really can't wear those shoes for a proper ceremony, and I think you'll really like these. They have blue soles and everything." Mom sounded much too cheery. Mandy was getting a headache. She couldn't deal with this right now. "I'll look at them." "That's all I'm asking," Mom said. "Now hurry up, and don't forget not to wash your hair. The stylist said dirty hair is easier to work with." Too late. Mandy hadn't forgotten, she just didn't want stinky hair on her wedding day. "I remember." "And eat," Mom said. Mandy shoved another bite in her mouth. "On it." "Don't talk with your mouth full. You'll choke, honey." Mandy was thinking about choking someone. They said their goodbyes, and Mandy checked the clock. Somehow an hour had passed since she'd gotten out of the shower. Her stylist would be there any minute, and Mandy was supposed to have her makeup done before she arrived. This was not a sign. But the conversation with Mom about the shoes played over in the back of her mind. Who was she to tell Mandy what she could or couldn't wear to her own wedding? Or what was "proper" for her special day? In less than five hours, she was set to marry the love of her life. Who saw her for who she was-flaws and all-she was sure of it. And it was going to be wonderful, and perfect, and there was nothing that was going to ruin this day. She shoved waffle in her face like she'd been starved for a week-not even taking the time to enjoy her favorite breakfast food-and raced into the bathroom for her makeup. Chapter Two August 1998 It felt more like an October afternoon instead of an August one that day on Huntington Beach, but Mandy couldn't have cared less. Her parents had finally given her and Isa permission to walk down to the beach for an hour by themselves. With no adult supervision. And it was glorious. It wasn't that Mandy didn't like her parents. Actually, she loved them very much. And if she was being completely honest, she-occasionally-liked spending time with them; not that she'd ever tell them that. But Mandy was in middle school now. She was practically an adult, so it was time for them to stop treating her like a baby. Today's excursion, with the salty breeze biting at her cheeks, felt like a step toward independence. "What do you want to do now?" Isa pulled at Mandy's arm, imploring action with her whole body. Her best friend was a doer, not an overthinker like Mandy, which normally was a difference in personality that served them well. Mandy wiggled her toes in the sand, digging them down to the cold layer underneath. "That's the best part." She let the sea air fill her lungs. "Anything we want." Isa cocked a dark eyebrow at Mandy-raising just one-how did she do that? "Okay. Well, you have any ideas?" Isa spread her arms out, gesturing at the mostly deserted beach. Long stretches of sand and foamy surf lay in front of them, but all Mandy could see was possibilities. A couple walked hand in hand along the shore. Every so often one of them would bend over and pick something up-collecting shells, most likely-and show it to the other. Mandy liked collecting shells-but she was particular about the ones she would bring home and display on her dresser. Plus, the water had to be freezing. Okay, not freezing freezing, but much too cold to swim in without a full wet suit, and even the idea of walking in it to look for shells sent shivers up Mandy's spine. She glanced around, her gaze sweeping over the long pier that jutted out into the ocean not far from them-Mandy could almost smell the funnel cakes mingling in the salty air. She instead focused on what looked to be an abandoned bucket buried in the sand, likely left by a small child. Mandy was not a small child . . . but she did have an idea. "Let's build a snowman." There went that eyebrow of Isa's again. Her tell that something Mandy said sounded ridiculous. "Fine. A sandman then." Mandy made her way over to the purple bucket and dug it out, the sand burrowing under her fingernails in the process. A yellow shovel was attached to the handle, and it was completely intact, which was serendipitous. Like this was what they were meant to do. Isa smiled and shook her head a little. Another one of her tells that she still thought the idea was silly, but she was more than willing to go along with it anyway. "Fine." That's how their friendship had been ever since that fateful day Marisa Jiménez walked into Mandy's kindergarten class-the pair had been inseparable. Mandy and Isa just got each other. They had a way of communicating that didn't always require a lot of words-which was good, because Isa didn't talk much back then, and Mandy never learned how to stop talking. They were perfect for each other. Isa was the cheese to Mandy's macaroni. The peanut butter to her pickles. The salsa to her chips. Her best friend knew how to keep Mandy together when she felt like her world was falling apart. And even back in those kindergarten times, there were plenty of days where Mandy's world was shaken and cracked, and Isa was there to put it all back together. Excerpted from The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean by Ann Rose All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
