Chapter Nine
WILL
I walk into Coffee Connection, and the aroma hits me like a cozy bolt of lightning. Man, I need it. Desperately. I’m rolling in on way too little sleep.
Clinking dishes and jittery chatter further enliven the air.
Almost everyone in the tiny coffee shop—including me—is wearing matching pink or green T-shirts stamped with glittery words bridesmaid, father of the groom, flower girl, etc.
We make an absurd group, like overgrown kindergarteners on a field trip.
Clearly, this groomsman isn’t fit to talk to anyone until I’m caffeinated, so I order a latte from the barista, a cute girl about my age, and have a seat on a polished stool at the coffee bar. No one is freaking out about the wedding planner. Fran must’ve kept her secret.
I hide my ruined tennis shoes under my stool as I scratch at a faint stain on my khaki shorts.
The blue remnants didn’t quite come out when I washed them in the sink last night.
Sadly, Dollar General had no shorts in my size except for a pair of too-short, fishing-themed swim trunks.
I bought them. But only for emergencies.
At least my parents will be here this afternoon.
I pull my phone from my pocket. Mema catches my eye and gives me a wave from a table with my cousin Emma and her parents. I wave back. Ava and Hudson are deep in conversation with Hudson’s parents while other family members and friends mill about, catching up and laughing. No Morgan.
I swing back around and make the mistake of opening Instagram.
Photos of my high school buddies still having fun on our senior trip fill my feed.
They mock me with their happy smiles as they pose on the sandy beach.
The ocean spreads behind them. Disgusted, I consider shoving it back in my pocket, but I’m a glutton for punishment.
My thumb keeps pushing new photos onto the screen as I try to remind myself that I’ll see them on Saturday night at the pool party when they’re home and all this wedding business is behind me.
A ding sounds as the door swings open, and I glance over my shoulder. Morgan walks in. All sleepy-eyed and smiles, she greets others around the room. Huh, maybe it’s just me, but that pink bridesmaid shirt doesn’t seem so bad on her.
She directs that smile at Mema when she passes her table, and Mema says something I can’t quite hear. Morgan giggles and then yawns, and I’m left dying to know what Mema said.
Morgan mumbles about getting coffee when Ava, perky as ever, tries to wave her to their table next. As Morgan frowns at me, a tinge of disappointment pinches my chest. Doesn’t seem much changed overnight.
But I’m in her path to coffee, so she has no choice but to join me at the coffee bar. She tries to snag the barista’s attention, and if I’m not mistaken, the girl is ignoring her. Ha. Good.
“Nice shirt,” I say after a beat.
“Thanks.” She doesn’t crack a smile. “But what’s up with yours? You look ridiculous.”
The barista places a mug in front of me with a wink. I smile back, aware Morgan is watching us. The girl walks away, not taking Morgan’s order.
There’s a heart shape in the foam.
Morgan peers at the heart. When she raises her head, giving me a full view of her alluring dark eyes now all aglow, she lifts a brow. Without breaking a smile or taking her gaze off me, she grabs the little spoon next to the mug and stirs the heart away as I try to keep from grinning.
“That’s better,” she says. “Should I tell her to be careful? You do tend to spill your coffee all over people.”
“Oh, are we joking about that now?”
Her lips form a thin line. The word psycho must be floating around in her head. “Definitely not.”
Another barista takes her coffee order, and within a minute, he sets a mug of black coffee in front of her.
“Need any half-and-half for that?”
She pulls it close with a contented sigh. “No thanks.”
When the barista walks away, I lean over her mug. “Perfect. Black like your unforgiving heart.”
She lets her lips curve into a hint of a smile. Wow, I like making her smile. But I don’t want to like it. All the reasons I shouldn’t get involved with her still stand. Plus, she still hates me. Maybe.
She takes a sip. “If I have a black heart, it’s because a boy made it that way. I don’t trust your kind.”
“My kind, as in men in general.”
She shakes her head. “Boys in general.”
I smirk. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Maybe. But I’m not telling you.” She places her mug back on the counter and taps my phone where it lies on the counter. “Dreaming about the beach? You know there’s one here?”
I dim the screen and hide the phone in my pocket. “Yes. Actually, I had to leave my senior trip early to be here. I was torturing myself by looking at the photos.”
“Oh.” She wraps her fingers around the mug. “That sucks. And explains the sunburn.”
“Yeah.”
I touch my nose and then take another sip of coffee, not hating her sympathetic look. I lift a shoulder. “It’s fine. And I’d hardly consider a manufactured lake beach comparable to the Florida coast.”
“Fair point, but Ava said the one here is pretty cute. I haven’t been down there yet.”
“No? You should. And she’s right. It’s not bad.” I’m just bitter. FOMO is real.
Before I can say something stupid like “maybe I could show you,” she inches closer to whisper. “Have you heard anything about Evelyn?”
Fran seems to be ignoring us. If I’m not mistaken, the words mother of the bride are printed in a larger, fancier font than on anyone else’s shirt. I pitch my voice low. “Not a word. I guess she was serious about not telling anyone.”
“I hope she’s okay.”
“Yeah, me too. Maybe someone will check on her today.”
“Hopefully, but who knows? I doubt Fran’ll think of it.”
“She’s the worst.”
“She really is. I don’t like sharing a secret with her. But I bet it’s not long until people start to notice the wedding planner has disappeared.” She swings her stool around, facing the other direction. “Tonya and Matt arrived this morning.”
Yeah, the matron of honor stands next to her husband near the self-serve station. “I don’t think she knows Fran’s secret, either. Do you know Tonya?”
“She was Ava’s college roommate. I’ve met her several times.”
Noticing our attention, Tonya cracks a smile and glides our way. She pulls Morgan into a hug. “Wow, you look so grown up. I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve seen you. How’s life?”
“Good. How are you and Matt?”
“We’re great.” She taps my arm and lowers her voice to sultry tones. “And who’s your friend?”
I’m pretty sure she already knows.
Morgan clears her throat. “This is Will, one of the groomsmen.”
Yeah, like my shirt wouldn’t clue her in.
“Hey, Will. You two are getting chummy over here, whispering away. I guess things are going well?” She winks at Morgan as if I’m not sitting here and then leans in to whisper in Morgan’s ear. “Ava was right. You look great together.”
Morgan’s mouth drops open, and I pretend I didn’t hear.
Just when Morgan seems on the verge of responding, Tonya spins around. “Okay, everyone, listen up!” She claps. “We’ve got an awesome day planned for you!”
Morgan’s cheeks are the color of a cherry-flavored ICEE.
I laugh, lowering my voice. “It’s because we have matching shirts. Of course, we look good together.”
This doesn’t seem to soften her mood as she twirls strands of that long dark hair around a finger.
Tonya’s husband, Matt, stands. “Our day is going to start with”—he rubs his hands together—“a cruise on the lake in our friends’ party barge!”
An excited murmur erupts, and even I’m optimistic. I haven’t been out on a boat in ages. Will there be tubing? Wakeboarding?
Matt scoops up a clipboard. “And later this afternoon, we’re organizing a bocce ball tournament for the guys.”
“And, ladies.” Tonya flips her red curls over her shoulder, then winks at Ava. “We’ll be at the spa for facials and massages.”
“Things are looking up. Lake time in the morning.” I rub my hands together like Hudson did. “And we don’t even have to be around each other this afternoon.”
Morgan grins, then salutes me with her mug. “Excellent point. This is going to be a great day.”
Mrs. Thompson, still wearing spiked high heels, claims the audience. “Sounds amazing, Tonya. How lovely. Now, everyone, let’s hop on outside, snap a photo, and then finish our bagels on the boat.”
She starts ushering everyone out, but before Morgan and I get a chance to step toward the door, Fran pulls Morgan aside, her thin frame rigid. Curious, I hang back.
“Listen, Morgan, I—we—need you to work on a few things today.” She holds out the wedding checklist she must have swiped from Evelyn’s house and puts on a sorrowful expression. “Do you think you can do that for Ava? You’ll have to skip the family activities today, but we would sure appreciate it.”
Morgan’s mouth is agape. As hurt wells up in her eyes, I can’t blame her. “Um, well, I guess I could help a bit. For Ava.”
“Oh, honey, you’re so sweet. I knew you’d come through.” Fran shoves the list into Morgan’s hand. “I mean, it makes sense since these are family activities, and you’re the only one who’s not family. Well, besides Tonya and Matt, of course. But they planned the day.”
Wow. Just wow. I cannot believe this woman. My hands ball into fists.
Morgan unrolls the list. “Which one would you like me to do?”
“Oh, all of them, really. Just start at the top and work your way down. The rest of us will just be so busy.”
Morgan’s shoulders slump. “Okay.”
At a sudden surge of protectiveness, I consider telling Fran off, but it wouldn’t get through to her pea-sized brain. And Morgan would volunteer anyway, for Ava’s sake.
So, before I can stop it, my mouth opens, and I hear myself say, “I’ll help her.”
Morgan’s frown is the inverse of Fran’s smile.
What did I just do?