Chapter Eleven
MORGAN
As Will trails me back up the hill past porch after porch, Evelyn's rental house beckons through the trees, its sleek glass windows and sharp, angular design something off both an architectural website and a country-living blog.
The lush landscaping surrounding the front porch, blooming with vibrant flowers, add pops to an otherwise neutral palette.
“Wow.” I breathe deeply. “It looks so different in the daylight. These houses are gorgeous.”
“Right?” Will shades his dark eyes. “It’s like we’re in a modern country alternate reality out here. Maybe that’s why people love it so much.”
“Including your family?”
“Especially my family.” He clomps up the steps ahead of me. “I hope Fran didn’t lock the door.”
“I doubt it. She’s not that responsible.” And sure enough, when I try the handle, it swings open.
“I was hoping we couldn’t get in.” He shakes back his tousled curls. “Then we could go hang out at the pool.”
I don’t miss that he says we, but I ignore it and step into a living room as stylish as the outside, filled with modern furniture and bold artwork. Funny how I didn’t notice any of this last night with everything going on.
My phone chimes as I trudge up the stairs to search the bedrooms.
Ava: Mom says you’re with Will, working on a surprise. *Heart shape* I hope she didn’t manipulate you into helping Evelyn. I never know with her.
Not sure how to respond, I plop down on the top step and rest my elbows on my knees.
I want to tell her the truth. Evelyn’s gone, and your mom is the worst. Oh, and there’s no surprise.
If I tell her, she’ll come right back here and skip all the fun activities planned for her.
She’ll see the long list. She’ll be mad at her mom.
And her stress level will shoot through the roof.
I can’t tell her.
Me: I’m sworn to secrecy. No questions!
There. Not a lie.
Ava: Okay. Keep your secrets. But have fun with Will. Perfect opportunity to get to know each other! *Kissy face* *Winky face*
I can’t keep myself from responding to that.
Me: I may be on a secret mission for my favorite ex-neighbor, but I’m still not dating right now. Give it up. *Kissy face*
Ava: Okay, okay. But don’t let your bad experience with Leo keep you from noticing someone who’s actually great. And, no, all boys are NOT idiots.
Next, she sends a selfie of Hudson and her on the boat.
Me: *eye roll* Yeah, yeah, you two are precious. Have fun!
Ava sends a video meme of someone wiping out on a tube, and I laugh.
“Found it!” Will shouts from downstairs.
I rise and shove my phone in my pocket and meet him at the door leading to the garage.
He presses the opener, and an angular ray of sunlight creeps across the floor as the garage door lifts. A giant box occupies the space where a car might go. It’s already been opened, and gold metal pieces spill over, some even strewn on the floor. What a mess.
“Oh man,” Will mutters. “How are we supposed to get that thing to the church?”
Great question.
He nods toward the corner, curls flopping over his forehead. “Maybe we can borrow the golf cart. I’m sure Evelyn included it in her rental agreement so she could cart everything down the hill.”
I run a hand over the shiny blue paint job. This brand-new vehicle boasts leather seats and an OKC Thunder basketball logo across the front.
We locate the key next to the welcome pack and, after an awkward lifting job, balance the box on the back seat. Improvising, we strip two bathrobes of their ties and use them to secure it to the cart.
At the last second, I grab the two boxes of wedding favors and stow them between us in front. Might as well load up.
We head down the hill at turtle speed. The bright midmorning sun casts shadows through the trees.
“So.” Will drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s your last name?”
I blink, caught off guard. Given how much we enjoy each other’s company, I assumed we’d ride along in stony silence.
“Whitney.” I start to leave it at that. But that would be rude, and I’m totally against people being the rudest in the world. “And what’s yours?”
“Jameson.”
Across the street, a dad and son are playing bocce ball on one of the three narrow courts. They stare as we pass, probably wondering why two teenagers with coordinating T-shirts are carting a giant box of gold down the hill.
Will waves, and they wave back. His hands back at ten and two, he faces the wind, letting it tousle his curls. “Well, Morgan Whitney, what do you like to do for fun?”
So we’re doing this. We’re chitchatting. I release a sigh. “Oh, you know. Reading. Hanging out with friends. Baking sometimes. But I don’t do that anymore.” Why did I bring up baking? “And you?”
“I like reading too. And baseball. Paddleboarding’s my latest obsession.”
“As in stand-up paddleboarding?” I make a face. “I’m not sure I have enough balance for that.”
“It’s not hard. You should try it.”
“Not likely.”
“I have my board here. And Hudson has his. You might like it.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Your loss.” Rather than push, he spins the basketball key chain hanging from the dash. “What do you like to read?”
“Lots of stuff. Contemporary. Fantasy. Historical. Romance. I don’t read much nonfiction, though.”
“Me either. Do you like e-books or physical books better?”
“Physical books, for sure. But I like my Kindle books too. What about you?”
“Physical book, mostly, and I like science fiction the best.”
What? A book nerd? “I didn’t peg you as a sci-fi fan.” I grind my teeth together. And why is it attractive? Ugh.
“Hey, inside this dreamy exterior”—he indicates himself and his groomsman T-shirt with a circular wave of his hand—“lives a hard-core sci-fi nerd.”
I roll my eyes. “I should have known.”
“My cousin Emma self-published a contemporary romance. You might like it. She’s here, actually. She was sitting with Mema at the coffee shop this morning.”
“I didn’t notice.” All I noticed after noticing him was, well, him. “But I’d love to meet her and read her book.”
“Her pen name is Emmie Blackwell. I’ll introduce you when they get back.”
I pull out my phone to look her up as he continues.
“My grandparents host a huge family Christmas here every year. Me, Emma, Hudson, and all the cousins come in during the break. We play tons of board games and hang out in that hot tub.” He points at the giant hot tub next to the community pool we’re passing.
“Walking down here and getting in is always fun, but walking back, wet, in December is the worst.” He laughs, messing with the radio but finding only static.
“And even as young kids, we ran around this place in the summers like we owned it. Mom and Dad had no idea where I was half the time. And as long as I stayed with Hudson, they didn’t care. ”
At his wistfulness, I even wish I had similar memories. “It sounds nice. I don’t have many lake memories. It just isn’t something we did. A friend from school invited me on their boat once. That’s about the extent of my lake time.”
“You’re missing out. Maybe Ava will invite you some time. I’m sure she’ll be here more often now that she’s becoming part of the family.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Would Will be here too? Not that I care.
“So why don’t you bake anymore?”
Hair slaps my cheek as I whip my gaze in his direction. I tuck my hair back. Oh, why did I bring that up?
His eyes are forward. But he frowns, and his shoulders inch up. “What? Did I say something wrong? Again?”
“No. It’s okay. I used to love baking. And I was good at it. It’s what I wanted to do someday—you know? Own a bakery. But then I had a bad experience, and now I don’t bake anymore.”
“A bad experience? How’s that? Like you accidentally poisoned everyone at a birthday party?”
I smirk as we hit a bump. Then I reach back to wrap an arm over the box. “No. Nothing quite so drastic.”
And it was more than baking. It was that horrible wedding and everyone staring. It was my mortification and public heartbreak.
Will drums his fingers again. “Your house got robbed, and someone held you at gunpoint until you gave up all your measuring spoons?”
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”
He tilts his head.
“You tried bathing in icing, and now you can’t stand the smell of it.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“No?” He grins. “How about, in a moment of poor judgment, you called your sous-chef—that’s not the right word. Assistant baker?—a psycho?”
Seriously?
I let my smile slip, and he schools his features. “Still not ready to joke about it?”
“Nope. It’s only been like an hour since the last time you asked.”
He huffs. “Fine.”
We pass The Meeting House, and our easy conversation dies. Was it only last night that I met this boy on that patio?
He’s gone quiet. He’s cute. I’ll give him that. But he called me a name behind my back.
I turn my face away, pretending to study the empty sand volleyball court. Time to think about something else—anything other than the cute but annoying boy next to me.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I pull it free, then nearly drop it when the screen displays a message from Leo. The first in a long, long time.
Leo: Can we talk?
Not exactly the distraction I had in mind. I shove it back in my pocket.
Now, I have two things to keep off my mind. Super.