Chapter Four
MORGAN
I can’t believe it. Of course, at a prewedding dinner for twenty, my friend, the overorganized bride, would use place cards. And, of course, I’m sitting across from the rudest boy in the world.
Psycho! He called me psycho. My hands ball into fists in my lap.
He’s been cordial since we sat down an hour ago, and during a toast, he even caught my eye to mouth, “Sorry.”
Not accepted, buddy. Not. Accepted.
If he weren’t also the cutest boy in the world, this would all be so much easier. I’m not watching him interact with his mema sitting next to him. Still, it’s starting to melt my icy mood.
As a cousin to the groom, Will’s related to everyone on Hudson’s dad’s side of the family and is chatting away.
I only know a few people here, and none of them well, except Ava.
I’m the nineteenth wheel in this group, even if next to me the bride’s leaning away, talking to some of her extended family.
Where’s Tonya, the maid of honor? She’s another person I’d know from the many times I visited Ava at OU, but she’s not here.
My parents and I live in Edmond, and back in the day, I loved to make the trek down to Norman to stop by Ava and Tonya’s dorm.
I was a middle schooler visiting my older neighbor at college.
I was seriously the coolest, or that’s how I saw it.
And even though Ava and the others I met during those visits have all graduated and moved on, I found a love for OU.
I hope to go there next year when it’s my turn to run off to college.
But for now, I need to focus on not feeling awkward because I’m by far the youngest person here. Well, me and Will.
The offensive boy laughs at something his mema says.
Is it too soon to excuse myself and escape to the rental house I’m sharing with Ava and the other bridesmaids? Maybe indulge in a long shower and a comfy spot to curl up with my Kindle.
I so need a reset.
And by the looks of it, Will does too. His elbows rest on the table as he twists a thin, handmade blue-and-white braided bracelet around his wrist. He covers his mouth as he yawns, scrunching the slightly pink skin over his nose.
The remnants of a sunburn? That yellow shirt lights up his tanned skin, but its radiance is a fake.
He’s probably too exhausted even to be rude now.
Oops, he’s caught my stare. As he hides his hands—and the bracelet—under the table, I swing my head the other way.
Ava pulls me into their conversation by leaning forward and asking, “How’s your summer job, Morgan? The snow cone stand, right?”
I swallow my last bit of Parmesan chicken and put my fork down. “It’s good. Fine.”
This is overstated since I’m not a big fan of the job or the cramped hut, to be honest. But hopefully, I’ve sidestepped more questions.
I’m wrong, of course.
Ava’s mom, Fran, pushes salad around her plate as she practically yells down the table. “Morgan, I thought you had a job with that baker on Bryant Street, the cute little place with the pink cupcakes on the sign.”
Uh-oh, with that high-pitched tone, she’s probably had too much to drink.
“Mom, I told you she doesn’t do that anymore.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, too bad. Otherwise, Ava could’ve hired you to make the desserts for her bridal lunch. Or maybe even the wedding cake!”
She winks and then laughs too loudly. Apparently, the details of my exit from the culinary world are coming back to her.
My cheeks get warm. I send up a desperate prayer she won’t recount the unpleasant situation.
As a server clears my plate and another places a piece of steaming blueberry pie in front of me, Ava comes to my rescue. “What’s it like at Epic Ice?”
Or maybe it’s not so much a rescue as a mediocre diversion since my summer job is decidedly not cool. Will’s eyeing me. I shake myself. I don’t care.
“It’s good. Crowded in the hut during the busiest hours. But it pays pretty well, and I’m trying to save up for a study-abroad trip next summer.”
“Good for you.” Ava sips her tea, ice clinking in the amber liquid. “That sounds amazing. Hudson went on one of the semester-long trips. You’re going to love it.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait.”
She scoops a bite of her German chocolate cake. “Was it hard for you to get off work for the whole weekend?”
“No. Plenty of people were willing to take my shifts.”
“Well, thanks for coming all this way. It means a lot.”
I reassure her with a smile and grab my fork. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Yep, Will’s still watching me. I don’t look over, but maybe I should’ve because, once again, Fran’s shouting my way.
“Morgan, are you still seeing Karen’s son? He’s such a darling.”
I freeze, a bite of pie halfway to my mouth. Everyone is staring, including Will. I lower my fork.
“Mom!” Ava’s fist tightens around her fork. “She hasn’t dated Leo for months. You know that.”
“Oh, right.” Fran’s eyes go wide. “The Haddock wedding. I heard about that. Was it only a few months ago? Seems like ages.”
Ava lifts a palm toward Mr. Thompson. “Dad. Please.”
Her father leans in to whisper to his wife while taking her wineglass. They erupt into a hushed argument.
I haven’t moved since I heard the name Leo. I’m a statue. Maybe I’ll turn into one and escape this evening. This weekend. This wedding.
The others restart their conversations, probably unsure what Fran was referring to.
“I’m so sorry.” Ava touches my arm. “She can be so unaware.”
Deep breath. “It’s okay. She didn’t know.”
“She did know! Ugh. She’s not allowed to drink the rest of the weekend. She’s mortifying.”
I force a small laugh for her sake. “It’s fine.” It’s not. “She’s right about one thing, though. It does feel like a long time ago.” That may be true in some ways. In others, it feels like yesterday.
Will tilts his head, his gaze bouncing between us. Even confusion looks good on him. “What was that about?”
I catch Ava’s eye, and she knows I don’t want to get into it.
“It all boils down to men.” She pats Hudson’s arm.
“Some are good ones, like mine. Some aren’t.
The tricky part is determining who’s who.
They’re all the same in the beginning. How can you decipher the great ones from those who are killing time until they break your heart? ”
Will meets my eye, brow pinched beneath those carefree curls. Yep, he doesn’t know what to say—neither do I, honestly—but when he opens his mouth to speak, Evelyn, the wedding planner, interrupts.
She’s made her way to Ava. “Hey, sweetie. Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh, Evelyn. You don’t look so good.” Ava stands.
No kidding. The wedding planner’s eyes are red and puffy, and she seems short of breath.
The two of them move away for a private conversation, and several people around the table take Ava’s exit as a cue to head back to their rental properties.
Maybe I can escape too. I stall over one more sip of tea.
“You know, honey.” Will’s mema holds up a hand beside her mouth, stage-whispering to me, then pats his hand. A dangerous mischief gleams in her eyes. “This one’s actually great, one of the good ones. And it sounds like you’re both single.”
While she winks and sings the last part, I nearly spew tea all over the table.
Will’s ears pink again. “Mema.”
I try to convert my cough into a laugh as she says good night and makes her exit.
After a moment, I stand, toss my napkin on the table, and mimic Mema’s exaggerated whisper. “I don’t think she knows about the psycho comment.”
He groans and dips his chin.
Ava returns, a tote bag hanging over her shoulder. She grips the back of a chair. By now, only Hudson, Will, and I still linger near our end of the table.
Hudson touches her arm. “You look stressed.”
“Evelyn doesn’t feel well. She thinks she’s having some sort of allergic reaction to the allergens here. It’s different from in Houston.”
“Uh-oh.” He squeezes her fingers.
“It’s fine.” She whooshes out a breath. “Everything is fine. She says she’s sure she’ll feel better by morning. She went on to bed.”
I nod. “Of course, she will. Everything will be great.”
“It turns out she’s put off several tasks until the last minute. She should be able to work on most everything tomorrow, but I’m going to get my parents to help me tackle the guest favors tonight.”
Hudson scoots his chair back. “I’ll help.”
Down the table, Ava’s parents have started up another fight. This time, a bit louder. Her smile falters.
So much for curling up with my book. “I can help too. The three of us can knock it out in no time.”
Ava perks up. “Oh, thank you, thank you. I don’t think I can handle my parents right now.
And guess what.” She lifts the tote bag for Hudson, a genuine smile spreading across her lips.
“I have all our matching shirts for tomorrow! You’re going to love them!
” She unfolds a pink one, jiggling it so the word bride shimmers in its gold lettering.
“Nice.” Hudson doesn’t manage much enthusiasm.
Not noticing, Ava throws it back in the bag and then hooks an arm through his. “There’s one for everyone. Yours says ‘groom,’ of course.” They walk away, heading toward the sidewalk. He kisses her forehead.
I catch Will’s eye, and the expression on his face says, “I really doubt I’ll love the shirt.”
I can’t help but agree.
But then our moment of agreement ends when he says, “It’s going to be so weird if yours says ‘psycho’ and mine says ‘rudest boy in the world.’”
I glare. I think my mouth drops open. Is this how it’s going to be all weekend?
“Too soon?” He rubs the back of his neck. His lips quirk into a half smile. “Truce, at least?”
The word psycho pops into my head. “No chance.”
I leave him standing there as I follow Ava out to my car, thinking about all the ways I plan to avoid him over the next three days. Shouldn’t be hard.