“Go,” Hanna whispered, nudging Aria to start down the aisle. A few beats later, Ramona gestured for Spencer to go. And then it was Hanna’s turn. Shaking, she grabbed her mother’s elbow and took small, even steps, her head swimming. She wasn’t sure she breathed until she was a few paces in, when she looked up and saw Mike in the most gorgeous tux ever, standing under the little tent, his eyes wide and his lips parted. His expression was a cross between loving adoration and the look of a horny, Hooters-loving adolescent who was dying to tear the dress off her.
Hanna breathed and laughed and maybe started crying again, overjoyed that he was there, and that he was hers. Her friends were back. Her mom was at her side. Hundreds of faces lit up as they turned and caught sight of her. Suddenly, Hanna felt a sense of overwhelming peace. Getting married before the trial verdict was delivered, no matter what the jury decided—it had been the best decision ever.
Everything, for once, was absolutely perfect.
24
DOES SHE STAY OR DOES SHE GO?
Even though Spencer wasn’t normally the dance-at-weddings type, she’d spent the whole night grooving to “Shout,” the “Cha Cha Slide,” and the “Chicken Dance.” She led a conga line around the tables, helped hoist Hanna’s chair during the hora, and even sexy-danced with a Hooters girl in a cutoff tee and bright-orange boy shorts. It just felt so good to celebrate something. To forget, for a brief time, how scary her future was.
During a brief lull in the music, she sat down and took a sip from a champagne glass. The wedding had been truly spectacular—the music was amazing, the food was delicious, the Hooters girls were surprisingly well behaved, and the red-carpet photos of all the guests added a glittering touch. True, Hanna’s grandmother Chelsea, who’d hastily flown in from Arizona, looked a little peeved and disapproving that Hanna was getting married so young, and Lanie Iler and Mason Byers, who’d long been a couple, had gotten into a colossal fight in the bathroom, and Mr. and Ms. Marin had spent the whole evening more or less avoiding each other. But that was par for the course for every wedding, wasn’t it? Spencer was just so happy that Hanna had a day she’d remember. And that she had gotten over her stupid pride and come to the wedding.
Aria sank into the seat next to her and grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray. As she crossed her ankles, her tracking bracelet banged noisily against the chair rail. “You won’t believe what I just saw in the bathroom,” she said, eyes bright. “Kirsten Cullen’s mom, making out with James Freed!”
“You’re kidding!” Spencer made a wry face. “James always did have a MILF thing.”
“Yeah, well, at least someone’s getting some action tonight.” Aria heaved a sigh.
Her gaze cut across the room, to where Noel Kahn, who also had a tracking bracelet on his ankle, was sitting with a bunch of guys from lacrosse. Noel looked up, perhaps sensing her, then quickly looked away again. Aria did, too.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Spencer asked quietly. Aria hadn’t really gotten into what had happened in Amsterdam, though it was clear Noel was in big trouble for following her there and the two weren’t exactly speaking.
Aria shook her head. “No.”
It made Spencer feel melancholy that Wren wasn’t there, too. Should she have invited him? She was dying to see him again. Then again, after last night—the way he’d just held her while she broke down, then drove her home sometime after midnight—she wasn’t sure she could handle seeing him again. She worried that just the sight of him would make her lose all her resolve to leave.
And she had to leave—soon.
The big clock that hung over the second-floor balcony caught her eye. It was already 9. Her car was coming at 9:30.
“Have you seen Hanna?” she asked Aria. She gazed around the room for the only girl in a long, white gown.
Aria frowned and peered into the thick throng of guests. Almost everyone was on the dance floor, grooving to Katy Perry. “Not for a while.”
There was no way Spencer was leaving without saying good-bye to Hanna. She rose and grabbed Aria’s arm. “Come with me.”
“Why?” Aria said, but her voice was swallowed up in the sound of the crowd. Spencer pulled her around the ballroom, her head swiveling this way and that as she searched for Hanna’s lithe, elegant shape. Finally, she spotted her in the corner. Her heart broke a little as she took in Hanna’s rosy cheeks, her huge smile, her expressive hands. How could she handle leaving her friends forever? What would they think of her when she didn’t show up to the trial when it reconvened? Probably the way Spencer had felt when Aria hadn’t shown up: kind of cheated, kind of jealous, and extremely hurt.
She hurried up to Hanna and flung her arms around her tightly. Hanna looked surprised. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” Spencer said in a choked voice. “I just . . . missed you guys while we weren’t talking. And it just hit me all over again.”
“Aw,” Aria cooed in Spencer’s ear, her skin smelling like the same patchouli perfume her mother wore. “I missed you guys, too.”
Spencer pulled back and looked at them. “And no matter what happens, promise me you guys will be strong, okay?”
Aria’s smile faded. Hanna’s throat bobbed. “We’ll always have each other.”
“We’ll be strong,” Aria echoed.
Then Hanna’s mom tapped Hanna’s shoulder, thrusting an old relative toward her. Aria turned to Mike, distracted, too. Spencer took the opportunity to slip through a side exit, duck into the coatroom, and retrieve the bag she’d packed beforehand and brought with her so that she wouldn’t have to go back into her house before Angela’s car came. She rifled through it quickly, checking to make sure the jewels were all still there. Then she took one last look into the ballroom at all of the Rosewood people she’d known all her life. All the kids she’d sat next to at school. So many of the teachers she’d had, the neighbors she’d grown up around, the families she knew so well—even her own parents were here, her mom and dad being surprisingly civil.