Skylar
"Next week?" Zoey looks at me in horror. "You’re getting married next week?"
"Seems like it." I slide the tray of Sp1cy Booktoks—a new book-shaped dessert I’ve been experimenting with—into the oven and straighten.
"And you’re standing here, cooking?"
"I’m baking," I point out.
She cuts the air with the palm of her hand. "Let me get this right; you’re going to marry that man who asked you to marry him?"
"Umm, that’s generally how it works." I half smile.
"Sorry, I’m surprised and confused, is all." She rubs at her temple. "When we last spoke, you weren’t sure you were going through with it. What changed your mind about marrying him, and are you sure you’re doing the right thing?"
Zoey’s the only person who knows about the situation I'm in. Not that I don’t trust the others wi
