Chapter 4: A Good Sport

Trenton was sitting on our couch when I came home on Sunday evening.

He had a grocery-store bouquet on the coffee table and a cake box beside it.

He stood up the moment the door opened.

"There she is," he said, and held out his arms.

I let him hug me.

He smelled like Krista's apartment, like her vanilla candles and cold pizza.

He had been there since Saturday night.

"I know you're upset," Trenton said into my hair. "I'm so sorry, Cor. I didn't think it would go that far."

"It went pretty far."

"It's already at six million views." He pulled back, and his face lit up.

"People are saying you're the most graceful bride on the internet."

I looked at the cake box.

Across the lid, in grey icing, someone had written, Sorry I'm a Runaway.

"Krista picked it," he said.

"She has good taste."

"She feels terrible, you know. She's coming over to apologize in person."

The buzzer rang as he said it.

Krista came in with her ring light under one arm and her phone already raised.

Her blonde hair was in a knot on top of her head.

"Corrie!" She threw both arms around me with the phone still recording.

"I'm so sorry, I'm the worst, I'm a terrible friend," Krista said. "Are you mad? You can be mad. Be mad on camera."

"Maybe don't film her yet, Pipe," Trenton said, but he was laughing.

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