Chapter Seventeen
MORGAN
The wind whips through my hair as Ava and I cruise along the sloping road toward town.
Snippets of the sparkling lake flash through the trees.
As the quaint houses come into view, the sun reflects off their metal rooftops, creating a dazzling, postcard-worthy scene that should leave me mesmerized.
But instead of enjoying this moment, I’m enjoying another—our unexpected kiss at the jewelry shop.
What did he make of it? Does he regret it? Is he telling Hudson about it now and laughing about the awkwardness?
I fiddle with the frayed edge of my jean shorts. Maybe I need to talk it out. Should I tell Ava?
Her hair dances in the breeze, creating a wild blonde frame for the worry lines creasing her brow.
I can’t bring myself to introduce more unnecessary drama to her wedding weekend.
Not to mention, this is the definition of stealing someone’s thunder.
I don’t want her focused on me and my problems. So I keep my secret locked away, hidden behind a forced smile.
But Ava has other ideas.
As we bump across the stone bridge, she nudges me. “You seem a bit off this afternoon. What’s going on?”
Smile, right? I paste it back in place. I’ll tell her everything later—like in a few years. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Are you mad at me for not saving you from my mom earlier?”
Whoa! I hold up both hands. “No, not at all. How could I possibly be mad at you? And like I said, I don’t mind helping.”
Her shoulders relax, and she checks her makeup in the rearview mirror. “And how was your afternoon with Will?”
“Fine.”
She raises a perfectly manicured brow. The spa must’ve been nice. “Come on. Spill. Something’s up with you two.”
I pick at my shorts again. “Nothing’s up.”
“I don’t know. I sensed some vibes earlier.”
“Nope, no vibes.” My laugh comes in a nervous jitter, and my heart somersaults over his lips on mine.
Get it together, Morgan! This weekend is complicated enough. Stop thinking about that kiss.
“We met yesterday. He’s barely more than a stranger. I’m here for your wedding. That’s all. It’s going to be amazing, by the way. Wait until you see what we’ve done to the pavilion already.” My subject change works, and we discuss the wedding and what still needs to be done.
As we stop in front of the pavilion, I twinge over not being honest.
How can I explain something I don’t understand myself? I need to put it out of my mind. From now on, I’m focusing on the task—making her wedding perfect. And if that means keeping my emotions in check and forgetting the cute and confusing groomsman, then so be it.
And no thinking about the kiss. Again.
Ava pockets the keys. “All right, hand over the list.”
I do, relieved to be rid of it.
“Now, let’s get to work.”
She spends a few minutes connecting her phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the pavilion until an upbeat country song drifts through the open space.
I pick up where I left off with the string of lights as the wind blows through my hair and rustles the leaves.
Elementary-age kids whiz by on their bikes.
“Looking good, ladies!” Hudson calls out, Will following, and my heart jumps into high gear.
Stop that. It was just a kiss. It was nothing.
Still, I expect him to help me like he’s been doing all afternoon. Instead, he joins Hudson and stretches out a string of lights, and I get back at it. I grind my teeth. Why am I disappointed?
Everything is as it should be. We won’t have to work together anymore, and I’m glad.
Good. Fine.
The rest of the wedding party catches wind of our predicament and shows up to help. Soon, we’ve stretched all the strands across the beams and pillars. We move on to setting up tables and assembling centerpieces. As we finish, Fran shows up to help.
“Oh, how lovely,” she croons, walking around in her spiked heels, adjusting things as she sees fit. Once she’s reworked three of the centerpieces, she declares the place ready and shoos us off to get dressed for rehearsal dinner. She doesn’t even say thank you for our full day of work.
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve showered and arranged my hair into a messy but cute bun, applied some makeup, and stepped into the flowing lilac dress I brought just for this evening.
Tonya and two other newly arrived bridesmaids join Ava and me as we stroll along the boardwalk toward the chapel.
Hudson and several groomsmen join us. Will isn’t with them.
I’m introduced to the newcomers, all college friends of Hudson and Ava.
They know each other well, so I walk alone behind the chattering group.
The sun has dipped below the tree line, casting long shadows across our path, and the breeze teases loose curls around my face. The strung lights that hang year-round over the walkways between rows of houses glimmer.
I pull out my phone and open the messaging app. My parents said they’d check in this evening. Nothing yet.
“Morgan, wait up.”
My breath catches as Will, showered and dressed to impress, jogs toward us.
Toward me. His hair is still damp, making it look even darker.
Charcoal pants and a crisp white button-up hug his frame, and he’s shaved away the bit of stubble he had.
I would know since his lips were on mine only hours ago.
Don’t think about that.
I curl my toes against the urge to point my feet in the other direction and ignore him. How can I act normal around someone I unexpectedly locked lips with? This boy is wreaking havoc on my emotions.
But that would be rude.
I freeze on a smile and wait.
“Wow.” He stops at my side. “You look beautiful.”
I dip my head. I can’t help it.
My cheeks must be pink, but desperate to act normal, I force my eyes back up. “Thank you. You look nice too. Where’d you get clothes?”
“My family arrived. Thank goodness.” He trails the others, and I fall in step.
“Do you know the other bridesmaids?”
“Not really. Or at least I don’t know them well. How about you? Do you know the other groomsmen?”
He twists his blue-and-white bracelet around his wrist. Something from an admirer? “Nope. I feel like the outsider.”
“At least you know a lot of the family. I only know Fran.”
He makes a face and lets his hands drop to his sides. “She’s the worst.”
“She really is.”
He nods toward the group ahead. They haven’t even looked back to see if we’re here. “We’re like their annoying and forgettable younger siblings.”
“Maybe they’ll set up a kids’ table for us.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Maybe. When do your parents arrive?”
“Tomorrow, probably just before the ceremony.” I stow my phone in my silver beaded clutch. “They’re supposed to let me know their plan this evening.”
We walk on in not-entirely-awkward silence until I spot our destination. “Oh, wow.”
The deep-green forest hugs the chapel as the sun dips. In the shadows, its white exterior isn’t quite as sharp. Soft golden light spills from gleaming windows.
“Yeah, and look at the pavilion.” He points. Lights along the ground lead a path between the chapel and the glowing pavilion where our hours of labor are apparent.
“It looks amazing.” I catch him staring at me.
He recovers, agreeing with my assessment. “Yeah. I heard their decorating crew is pretty good.”
“Will. Morgan. Keep up,” Fran calls from the doorway. “It’s time.”
We rush along, and she makes quick work of getting us to our starting positions. Emma takes candid photos of the rehearsal, including when we exit the sanctuary arm in arm after the first run-through.
“Ah, that’s a good one,” she says, looking at the screen on her camera.
Fran claps. “Not bad, but let’s run through it again. Places, everyone.”
Will groans, and I nudge him toward the other groomsmen.
We run through the ceremony two more times before Fran is satisfied. “That’s a wrap, everyone.” She beams. “Time to eat.”
Hudson and Ava lead the way down the lit path toward the pavilion where the caterer has set up for our arrival. The crew bustles in and out of a nearby hut serving as the kitchen.
Once again, I find myself walking alone, this time sandwiched between different groups of family and friends.
My phone chirps inside my clutch, and I pull it free, expecting a text from my parents. Then conflicting emotions roil me. It’s not from Mom.
Leo: I want to see you. Can we talk?
“Did your parents finally text?” Will sidles next to me.
I dim the screen and stow it away. Did he read it? “No, not yet.”
We continue, walking side by side, and my only thought should be that I don’t want to talk to Leo. And that’s part of what I’m feeling—my emotions are a chaotic mess when it comes to him. But it’s not my only thought.
I don’t want to care, but if Will had time to read that text, what did he think?
I start to fish for something to say, but Leo’s ringtone blares from my clutch. I slow to dig it out, but Will continues on.
I sigh. This confusion is a perfect reminder that I’ve sworn off dating until college.
I just need to keep my head on straight, get through this wedding, and stick to the plan. No dating. No weekend flings.
I send Leo’s phone call to voicemail.