Chapter Seven
WILL
Well, if I thought Morgan was going to warm up to me, I was wrong. She’s hardly said a word, and she hasn’t glanced in my direction. How do you play nice with a girl who won’t look at you?
Hudson keeps glaring at me like it’s my fault.
Can we please finish this task so I can go to bed? I’m exhausted.
A few minutes ago, Morgan got up to go to the bathroom, and in her absence, Hudson and Ava laid into me.
“What are you doing?”
“Have you apologized?”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird! She’s ignoring me.” I fumble another ribbon into a passable bow. “And let me remind you—I’m not interested in a setup.”
What I’m interested in is going to bed. Instead, I’m sitting on a blue rug and using the coffee table as my workspace, and Morgan is, of course, sitting as far away as possible at the kitchen table.
“You’re not trying. Forget the setup. Just act like normal humans.”
“I am trying. You guys aren’t helping, making it all awkward. And maybe I don’t want to talk to her.”
Hudson starts to say something else, but Ava’s phone rings. She steps outside to take the call as footsteps scuffle overhead. Morgan makes her way downstairs and back to her spot.
And shocker, Hudson takes the opportunity to get something from the fridge.
Morgan and I work in silence.
“So,” I say, and “how ’bout that weather” pops into my head. I have enough brainpower left to hold it in.
She raises a brow.
Say something. Anything. “Are you excited for your senior year?”
She dips her head over the tiny bow she’s tying. It unravels, and she sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Should be fun.”
I finish another chocolate jar and toss it into the box. “Need some help with that?”
She snorts. “I don’t need your help.”
Ava emerges from the porch and pauses at the door. A tear leaks from a red-rimmed eye. Uh-oh.
I stand, and Morgan launches from her chair, rushing to Ava’s side. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Hudson comes back in and wraps her in a hug. “What’s up, babe?”
“Mom is impossible. Why does she make everything so difficult? She called to complain about the florist and to tell me the bakery where we ordered cookies for brunch on Saturday canceled the order. I mean, that’s not a big deal.
Couldn’t she keep it to herself?” She waves toward the jars and ribbons strewn across the table.
“And why oh why didn’t she let me use one of the local wedding planners here?
They have a full service. But, no, Mom insisted we use Evelyn.
This stuff should have been done ages ago. I thought it was done.”
Hudson rubs her back. “Hey, everything will be okay.”
“Mom was going to tell me something else, but she must’ve sensed I was losing it.
So she refused to tell me.” Arms around his waist, she snuggles in to Hudson.
“Is everything falling apart? What else is going to go wrong? Cookies, rude flower shops, mystery emergency.” She points between Morgan and me.
“And these two won’t even try to get along. ”
Another tear races down her cheek. Great. I’m the worst kind of idiot.
Morgan and I eye each other. Some mutual agreement forms.
She places a hand on Ava’s arm. “We can get along. We promise. Right, Will?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
Hudson spends the next minutes consoling Ava, and when she retreats upstairs, he spreads his hands at us. “Okay, that’s it, you two. Either play nice or pretend to. Got it.”
We nod.
“Good.” He picks up a box of jars and scoops all the unfinished ones into it.
“These need to go back to Evelyn. She said she’ll deal with them tomorrow when she feels better, and hopefully, she can finish them off.
There’s only half a box left, but we’re all too tired and emotional.
Think you two can manage to walk these over there without fighting while I tell Ava good night? ”
We nod again.
“Okay, then.”
I take the box. He blurts a quick set of directions, and Morgan grabs the other.
As we descend the front porch steps, the nighttime sounds of crickets, frogs, and locusts surround us. We walk down the boardwalk until it gives way to the paved sidewalk.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “He’s right. We need to get along.”
The soft glow of strung lights on the house we’re passing reflects in her eyes. Ducking my head before she can catch me staring, I clear my throat. “Agreed.” I shift the box to one arm and stick my hand out. “Truce?”
She rolls her eyes and tries to do the same, but the box tips and half the plastic jars fall to the sidewalk and bounce every which way. “Oh no!” She rights the box, and I laugh and drop to pick them up.
When she scowls, I try to wipe the smile from my face.
“It’s not funny! What if they’d shattered?”
“They didn’t. Look. Plastic.” I hold one up, and she squats next to me and swipes another.
“There’s dirt on this one.”
“Wipe it off. They’ll never know. It’s fine.”
We gather them up, and when we stand and meet each other’s eyes, she gives me another look, her brow pinched. “What?”
The top of her head meets the height of my chin. She smells like coconut and fresh flowers. I’m trying to hide another smile. “Nothing. Just laughing at the fact that things get messy when we’re together. ICEE. Wedding favors. What’s next?”
“Right. The ICEE incident. I’d almost forgotten. Thanks for reminding me.”
She shifts away from me and keeps walking.
She’s cute when she’s mad. Fighting another smile, I jog to catch up. “Hey, truce, remember?”
“I remember. I’ll be all sunshiny when we’re with Ava and Hudson. They’ll never know how much I loathe you.” Maybe, that’s a hint of a smile.
“Your loathing will be our little secret.”
And just when things are starting to improve, we turn the corner onto Redbud Street and are met with flashing lights.
Morgan pauses and then picks up the pace. “That’s not good.”
Nope. I follow, hustling toward the ambulance in the driveway of the very house we’re heading to.
No, not good at all.