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  “What?”

  “Look. The flights are all delayed.”

  “All of them?” I looked up and saw the word “Delayed” repeated row after row. I searched the screen for my flight number and my heart sunk when I saw it, too, wasn’t getting off the ground any time soon.

  “Why? How could every single flight be delayed?” Sabrina said, her pitch rising.

  “It’s the storm,” a balding, middle-aged man said beside us. His voice was grim. “See?”

  We both looked out at the darkened sky, wind and rain lashing against the tall windows. When I had arrived at the airport, it had been a hot, beautiful, sunny June day.

  “What if this is a sign that I made the wrong decision?” Sabrina said, her eyes wild.

  “I don’t think it’s a sign,” I replied, trying to soothe her. Although the storm was an annoyance for me, I imagined Sabrina would be going apoplectic about now.

  She shrugged. “I guess.” She swallowed. “What are we going to do now?”

  “What do you want to do?” I asked.

  “We’ll all just have to wait it out,” the middle-aged man said, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Sabrina continued to study the screen, as though concentrating really hard would change it.

  “I suggest y’all get yourselves comfortable. It may be a long night,” the man added.

  I glanced out the window at the storm. If there was one thing I had learned from living in the south, it was that they did big storms here.

  We could be here for a while.

  “Sabrina? How about we look for a place where you won’t be so obvious?”

  She nodded, her face creased with worry.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She put her hand over her tummy. “Yes, I’m starving!” she said in surprise.

  I chuckled. “Fancy a burger?”

  “That sounds perfect. And I love that expression—‘fancy,’” she said with a smile.

  We found a decent-looking burger joint—decent by airport standards, anyway—and ordered and sat together, gratefully devouring our meals.

  “This burger is fantastic!” I declared.

  “It sure is,” Sabrina agreed, her mouth full. She swallowed and took a large sip of her Coke. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  “When did you last eat?”

  She sat and thought for a moment as I took another bite. “I guess it was breakfast.”

  I laughed. “You’re hilarious! I never forget when last I ate or what I had.”

  By way of response she merely shrugged, sinking her teeth into her burger once more, her eyes rolling back in her head from the deliciousness.

  “I hope this storm doesn’t go on too long,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Look on the bright side, it wasn’t much of a day for a wedding.” I grinned and waggled my eyebrows.

  She laughed sardonically, glancing at the ball of wedding dress on the seat next to her. “That’s true.” She placed her burger back on the plate and looked out to the distance, a lost look on her face.

  After a moment, I asked, “I’m sorry I brought it up. Do you want to talk about what happened? I mean, we’re never going to see one another again, I don’t know anyone you know, so it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

  She looked back at me and smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right.” She swallowed. “I just had to get out of there.”

  “How did you do it?”

  A half smile crept across her face. “I told Naomi—she was my maid of honor—I was going to the bathroom. I picked up my purse from the table, locked the bathroom door, and I just climbed out the window.”

  “You did? Like Rachel on Friends!”

  She shrugged. “I guess. It was pretty tricky. Small window, big dress. I kept thinking about how Winnie the Pooh got stuck, trying to get through a window. Luckily, that didn’t happen to me.”

  I shook my head. Sabrina bore no resemblance whatsoever to the chubby Winnie the Pooh. “It was a gutsy move, that’s for sure.”

  “I suppose . . . either that or cowardly. I mean, I could have talked to Todd, told him how I was feeling. Instead, I just bolted.”

  “It’s understandable. It was a heat of the moment thing. Why do you think you did it?”

  “I . . . I guess I just saw my life flashing before my eyes. Marriage, kids, a picket fence in the suburbs. It was the future everyone else wanted for me.”

  “And you didn’t want that?”

  “No, I”—she hung her head as she played with a French fry—“I guess I realized I didn’t want it with Todd.”

  “Todd is . . . was your fiancé?”

  She nodded, biting her lip. “We were high school sweethearts, been together for over ten years. He’s a really great guy, he’s just not . . . The One. Do you know what I mean?”

  I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant. “Yup. I moved all the way from New Zealand to Florida for love, and he hadn’t turned out to be The One for me, either.”

  And now I was stuck, treading water, going to endless weddings, trying to work out what to do with the rest of my life.

  “That sucks,” she replied.

  I shook my head, pushing the sorry state of my life aside. “So, let me get this straight: you didn’t realize he wasn’t right for you until you were about to walk down the aisle?” I raised my eyebrows in wonderment. I mean, I’d heard of brides leaving their grooms at the altar, but I’d never actually met one who had actually done it.

  She shook her head, her high ponytail swooshing behind her. She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I’d been feeling it for a while. It all just came to a head, I guess. I should call him, explain.”

  “Yeah, you probably should.”

  “Soon. I’ll do it soon.” She picked up what was left of her burger and took another bite.

  We sat in silence as we both finished our meals. Once done, she leaned back in her chair. “You said your last name is ‘Bloom’? You should become a florist.”

  I laughed. “Actually, I am. I have this cute little flower shop in Orlando called Blooms on Valencia. I’ve had it for a couple of years now. It’s the one thing keeping me in Orlando, to be honest.”

  Sabrina sat bolt upright in her seat. “Are you serious? I own a florist shop, too! My shop is in San Francisco. That’s where I live. It’s called The Flower Girl.”

  “San Francisco?” I repeated, a little starry-eyed. “I have always wanted to go there.”

  “Oh, you should come some time! It’s an amazing city.” Her face didn’t match her words.

  “Are you telling me that or yourself?”

  “No, it is, really. It’s just . . . going back there after what I’ve done? Todd will be devastated, and my mother?” She let out a groan. “My mother is going to kill me.”

  I shrugged. “So, don’t go back for a while. Let the dust settle. People usually feel better about things when given some time.”

  She nodded, rubbing her chin. “You’re right. I had to close the shop for a few days anyway, for the wedding and my honeymoon.”

  “Exactly. You’ve got a free pass to get your head together.”

  “In Baltimore,” she added with a smile.

  “In Baltimore,” I confirmed. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you getting married in Dallas if you live in San Francisco?”

  “My grandmother lives here, and her only request was for her grandchildren to have their weddings at her estate. It’s a gorgeous place, and the reception was going to be on her lawn, under this huge white canopy.”

  My eyes widened. “So you’re rich?”

  It figured. Sabrina struck me as one of those people who led a charmed life—bolting from her wedding aside—the type of life I’d always wanted for myself but had never quite achieved.

  “No, my family’s rich. My parents have always expected a lot from me, including the ‘wedding of the century.’” She did bunny ears with her fingers. “Mother and Tod
d’s mother basically planned the entire day, and Grandmother expected it to be here in Dallas. So that’s what we did. Well, almost.”

  “Anyway,” she said, her tone brightening, “I remember going to Orlando as a kid. It was hot and sunny and the theme parks were so fun. It was the best vacation ever. I would love to go back there some time.”

  “Yeah, they’re fun. Not that I’ve been in a while.”

  When I first arrived, Jon and I had spent most weekends at the theme parks, indulging my inner child. We’d had so much fun, taking the rides together, wandering around the parks hand-in-hand.

  I hadn’t stepped foot in one since we’d broken up, almost eighteen months ago now.

  “Why not? I would go all the time if I lived there.”

  It was my turn to look down. “Memories, I guess.”

  “Ah.”

  I took a gulp of my Coke, trying not to think about the current state of my life as the bubbles tickled my nose. Sure, my business was blooming—excuse the pun—and I loved it, but I had felt ready to meet the man of my dreams and settle down for some time now. And it wasn’t happening for me.

  I needed something to mix things up—I just didn’t know what that “something” was.

  “Maybe we should switch lives,” Sabrina said with a chuckle, taking a sip of her own drink.

  I snapped my head up and looked at her. “What did you say?”

  “I said, maybe we should switch lives,” she repeated. “Not that you would ever do that with someone, of course,” she added hastily.

  “No, of course not! That would be crazy.”

  “Totally,” she confirmed, knitting her brows together. “I mean, who does that?”

  I shook my head. “I know, right?” I watched for her reaction. Nothing.

  We slurped our drinks in silence.

  “Although—” Sabrina began, and stopped. Had she thought better of what she was planning to say?

  “Although . . . what?” I questioned cautiously.

  She paused for a beat, two. “It’s, well, do you believe in fate?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you believe it was fate that we met? Here. Today.”

  “Sure, of course. You needed some clothes, a way to merge into the crowd, and I was here to help out. That could be fate, or just good luck.” I grinned at her.

  She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.” She rocked forward in her chair, leaning in to me. “Think about it, we’re both florists, we’re both unhappy with our lives. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

  I nodded, tapping my foot on the floor as I took another sip of my Coke. “You’re right.”

  Sabrina looked me directly in the eye. “Addison Bloom, what do you think about us switching lives? You go to San Francisco, and I’ll go to Orlando.”

  Before I could stop it, I spluttered my mouthful of Coke all over the table, some of it onto Sabrina. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I exclaimed. I picked up a dry napkin, stood up, and leaned across the table to dab at her—my—T-shirt. “I’m such an idiot. I’m can’t believe I did that.”

  She located a second dry napkin and helped the cleanup process. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine, really, and it’s your shirt.”

  The table cleaned and Sabrina’s T-shirt looking as good as it was going to before it met a washing machine again, we dropped the damp napkins in a pile on one of the empty plates.

  “So, I gave you my shirt and promptly spat all over it. Do you feel special?” I asked.

  “Totally,” Sabrina replied with a grin. “So . . . ?”

  She clearly didn’t want to let this go.

  Did I?

  “So . . . should we switch lives?” I asked.

  She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “We could try it out, maybe for a few weeks, as long as things are going okay. Of course, we’ll have to stay in touch and help one another out with the shops and things, but this could totally work.”

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” The excitement at the prospect of living someone else’s life, a better life than my own, grew inside.

  She nodded, resolute. “I am. Look, I know it sounds certifiably insane, but I need this. And I think you might, too.”

  I bit my lip and nodded. Sabrina grinned at me.

  And so it all began.

  Three hours and a whole lot of talking later, we stood in line at Security, fresh boarding passes to our new destinations in each of our hands.

  “You have to let me pay you back for this, okay?”

  Sabrina smiled at me. “Sure. You’re going to love San Francisco.”

  I tried to bite back my excited smile. I failed.

  “You’re going to love Orlando.”

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Sabrina shook her head, her face beaming.

  I was giddy with excitement as we shuffled forward in the line. “I guess you’re right; it’s fate.”

  “I really believe it is. Why else would a storm come through at almost exactly the same time we met? This was meant to happen. I can feel it.”

  We reached the scanning machines and I placed my purse and hand luggage in some trays. Sabrina put her wedding dress into another tray, trying in vain to squash it down so it would fit.

  “You have a bag for that, miss?” a security guard asked, a look of disdain across her round, bespectacled face.

  “No, I don’t, sorry,” Sabrina replied. “I didn’t really come prepared.”

  The security guard—Trish, her nametag said—looked from Sabrina to the scrunched-up wedding dress and back to Sabrina again. “Oh, my. You’re the bride! Hey, Albert!” she yelled over her shoulder to the man operating the scanner.

  “What?!” he yelled back.

  “This here is that bride Sylvester was talkin’ about.”

  Albert peered over the top of his machine, sizing Sabrina up. Her cheeks colored. I placed my hand on her arm, and she shot me a grateful look.

  “You runnin’ away?” Trish asked.

  “Oh, I’m . . . ah,” Sabrina stuttered.

  “She’s taking a trip, just like rest of us. That’s all,” I said, shooting Trish a defiant look. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have some planes to catch.”

  Trish raised her eyebrows, her eyes scanning up and down my body. “Is that so?”

  I gave a firm nod, holding my ground.

  “Well, in that case, good luck y’all,” Trish responded with a smile. “‘Specially you, honey,” she added, winking at Sabrina. “I think you’re real brave.”

  We thanked Trish, walked through the body scanner, and collected our possessions. We made our way to the gate for Sabrina’s flight, which was due to depart first.

  She dropped her dress on a spare seat and took my hands in hers. “Thank you, Addi. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Tears welled in her eyes once again.

  “You too. Although, I still can’t quite believe we’re doing this.”

  “I’ll send you a detailed email with everything you need to know.” She pulled out a set of keys from her purse, holding them by a fob. “This is my house key. You’ve got the address, right?”

  I nodded, handing her my own set of keys. “I hope I left my apartment in a decent state, only, I had no clue I would be doing this when I left it.”

  This is the final call for flight four two nine to Orlando, Florida. Would all remaining passengers please make their way to Gate D17.

  Sabrina glanced at the podium and then back at me. “I guess that’s my flight.” She gripped my hands tightly before pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so glad I met you, Addison Bloom. I really believe you’re my guardian angel.”

  “It was great to meet you, too,” I replied as tears stung my eyes.

  She pulled away from me, turned, and walked toward the gate.

  “Hey, Sabrina!” I called, collecting her wedding gown from the seat in my arms. She turned back and looked at me. “You forgot your dress.”

  “Just leave it. I don’t
need it, not anymore.”

  And then I watched as she turned on her heel, handed her boarding pass to the check-in staff, and walked through the gate. Just before she disappeared out of sight, she turned and gave me a wave. I waved back, and then she was gone.

  I looked down at the dress in my arms. A rush of emotion—a mixture of excitement, wonderment, and sheer panic—washed over me.

  What had I done?

  Chapter 2

  Sabrina

  Was I really doing this?

  I looked down at my shaking hands as I shut off my phone, ignoring the twenty-two missed calls. Make that, twenty-two frantic missed calls, all from various members of my family, my fiancé’s family, friends—and my fiancé.

  I understood why they were calling, but I wished they would just give me some time to pull myself together.

  When I arrived at the airport I texted my friend and maid of honor, Naomi, asking her to let everyone know I was okay and that I would be in touch soon. Hopefully that’s the exact message she relayed to them. You never knew with Naomi.

  I shifted around in my first class seat, trying to get as comfortable as I could, despite the circumstances of my impromptu trip. I was supposed to be on a plane to my dream honeymoon right now, getting ready to kick off a week of basking in the island sunshine, with a frozen cocktail in my hand. My handsome new husband by my side . . .

  Instead, I was sitting on a plane, going to an unfamiliar place to take over a stranger’s life.

  What the hell?

  I rubbed my temples vigorously and took another sip of my vodka tonic. The plane hadn’t even taken off yet, and a part of me was ready to make a run for it . . . again.

  I wondered what would happen if I tried to exit the plane during the boarding process? I’ve never seen that happen before. Would I be jumped by a bunch of airport employees? I could imagine Sheila, the cheerful flight attendant, kicking off her navy pumps and jumping on top of me to restrain me from creating panic throughout the plane.

  How would I explain my reasons to the travel authorities? I was positive they wouldn’t take me seriously if I told them I had just run away from my wedding. Yes—run away. I’m talking escaped out the bathroom window, just like Rachel in Friends.