Chapter Two
MORGAN
Huh.
My blue-streaked car creeps through a dry forest where red dirt rock and spindly trees fight for real estate alongside a winding, uphill drive.
I don’t pass a single car and begin to think perhaps this was some sort of joke—just kidding, there aren’t any houses back here.
Then I crest a hill and roll along near the edge of a cliff overlooking what must be Lake Eufaula far below.
“Oh, wow.” I power down my window.
A manicured grassy landing nestles between the cliff’s edge and the road, and four white Adirondack chairs form a happy row facing the lake and miles of forest.
I press deeper into my seat, suppressing a strong desire to jump out of my car, run across the grass, and peer over the ledge. Maybe sit a while. Leave my phone in the car. Forget about weddings, past and present.
But I’m already thirty minutes late.
I round the next corner. The road takes a dip toward the lake and runs parallel to the water, though the trees hide it from view.
Then a few rooftops poke through the trees, and my jaw drops when my tires bump over a narrow stone bridge and Carlton Landing spreads before me, offering adorable houses, their picturesque porches inviting with rocking chairs or dangling swings.
I pass a pickleball court tucked away in the trees and a community pool perfect to laze away a warm evening.
My lousy mood vanishes.
In town, I turn past a tiny school to a restaurant called The Meeting House.
And there’s Ava outside on the stone patio, all radiant beside her fiancé, Hudson.
Crisscrossing lines of strung lights sparkle over tables and catch the highlights in her blonde hair as she waves, jumping up and down on her toes.
Laughing, I wave back. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
She directs me to pull off the main road and park out back. Then she cuts through the patio, trots over, and wraps me in a hug when I slide from my seat. “You made it! I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Of course I made it. And”—I bend into my car—“I brought your something blue.”
I hold the ICEE out with both hands, and she snags it, giving me another one-armed squeeze. “You’re the best.”
She takes a blissful sip of the half-melted drink, then pauses and slides the straw from her lips. “Where are your shoes?” Her eyes widen. The straw comes out like a baton and points between her ICEE and my knee area. “And what happened to your skirt?”
“Oh, nothing. Let’s just say the first ICEE came to an unfortunate end. The rudest boy in the world dumped it on me.” I pop my trunk. “Where can I change?”
“I’m so sorry.” Her shoulders slump, and a dollop of ICEE drips from her straw before she slides it back into her drink. “It’s all my fault.”
I rummage for a pair of jeans and some sandals. “I assure you, it’s not.”
She slurps another sip. “There’s a bathroom inside. And don’t worry. We’re still waiting on one of the groomsmen. But Hudson says he’s close.”
While she saunters back to the patio, I run inside to swap out my clothes, wash my feet in the sink—yeah, gross—and check my makeup. Too bad I don’t have time to shower after the ICEE ordeal, but this will have to do.
Back at my car, I toss my skirt in the trunk, then walk up the stone pathway to the patio where our party mingles. The welcome smell of something delicious wafts over me, and my empty stomach growls.
I greet Ava’s parents, and of course, her mom comments on my tardiness while her husband is perfectly sweet.
Hudson hugs me. He and Ava introduce me to everyone else: his parents and sisters, several sets of grandparents, other family members, and the wedding planner, Evelyn, one of Ava’s mom’s good friends, all the way from Houston.
Ava slips her arm through mine. “We’re going to have a fabulous weekend. You’ll love Carlton Landing, and the wedding will be amazing.”
Maybe she’s right.
As we claim our seats at the beautifully set table, Hudson grins, puts his fingers to his lips, and lets out an earsplitting whistle. He waves over our heads. “Will’s here. Finally.”
A gray car pulls into the alley, and he rushes to greet his groomsman, feet crunching across the gravel. When the newcomer emerges, I suck in a quick breath. The breeze blows a few tendrils of hair across my face, and I slap it away and blink.
No way.
Ava sidles next to me. “That’s Hudson’s cousin Will. Isn’t he cute? And he’s single too.” She cocks her head. “But what is he wearing?”
Is it too late to crawl back to my car and drive home?
Of course, the late groomsman would be a gorgeous dark-haired guy wearing blue-spotted shorts and a neon-yellow, eight-dollar T-shirt that reads Fish Eufaula. The rudest boy in the world.