Chapter Twenty-Three
MORGAN
I wiggle my toes when Tonya finishes my nail polish, the shimmering pink a nice change from my usual neutral tones.
“Nice.” I’m a little girl again, my babysitter and her bestie fussing over me. “Thank you.”
Tonya twists the cap on the bottle. “No problem. I’d love to put a flowery decoration on them, but Ava wants them all the same.”
“What the bride wants, the bride gets.”
Ava and the other bridesmaids have already finished up and are bustling around. Grandma Thompson surprised us with wood-fired pizzas from Mama Tig’s, assuming we’d be hangry way before we got to eat again at the reception. Smart woman.
Ava’s nibbling on a slice, pacing and muttering about everything that needs to be done and what might be forgotten now that Evelyn is out of the picture. She’s starting to stress again. I’ve been preoccupied and need to focus on the bride.
I’m about to ask her if I can do anything. Then stiffen. Fran’s lurking on the porch, phone pressed to her ear. I lean toward Tonya and pitch my voice low. “What’s she up to now?”
Fran seems to be growing more agitated with every gesture and clipped word.
“Who knows?” Tonya makes a face. “But I feel sorry for whoever she’s talking to.”
“Right?”
Fran shades her eyes and peeks in the window.
Tonya waves at her and whispers, “Oh man, she is exhausting.” She cringes. “Oops. Did I say that out loud?”
I laugh. “Ava didn’t hear. She’s wandering away up the stairs.”
Apparently, this is the moment Fran was waiting for. She rushes inside, nearly tripping on the rug, but it doesn’t slow her down.
She hovers over us and whispers, “Shh, don’t react. The photographer just called. His car broke down halfway here. He’s not going to make it in time for prewedding photos! And what if he doesn’t make it at all?”
“What did you say?” Ava screeches in high pitch as she descends the stairs, her phone in hand.
“Oh, honey.” Fran straightens. “I’m sure he’ll make it for the actual wedding. He just has to.”
Ava’s shoulders sag, and the crease between her eyebrows sinks deeper than ever. When she reaches the bottom step, she slumps onto it. “What’s happening? Is this and everything else a sign? Am I making a mistake getting married this weekend?”
“No!” Tonya, Fran, and I say in unison. We rush to her, sitting around her in a protective circle.
Tonya rubs her back. “Everything is going to be fine. You guys are meant to be together. Either it’s a huge unfortunate coincidence or Satan’s at work trying to keep a perfect pair apart, standing, as always, between anything wholesome or lovely.
Don’t let doubt creep in. You’re getting married tonight…
and just think of all the stories you can tell your kids someday about your wedding. ”
Ava laughs through a sniffle, and everyone starts to relax.
Tonya pushes Ava’s hair behind her shoulders. “Plus, we can all take pictures with our phones before the ceremony and while we get ready. We’re on it.”
There’s a murmur of agreement, and Ava nods, wiping her tears with her sleeve. “But what if he doesn’t make it by the time the ceremony starts?”
“I’m sure he will, honey,” Fran says.
“Wait a minute.” I straighten. “What about Will and Hudson’s cousin Emma? She has her camera, remember?”
Ava lifts her head and meets my gaze, her features softening.
I squeeze her shoulder. “She could take photos of us getting ready until he arrives.”
Fran is nodding like a bobblehead. “And she could be the backup for the wedding if it comes to that! Oh, this is lovely. Ava, do you have her number?”
“No, but I have Will’s. He could text her.”
Ava lifts her phone. She’s still for a moment. A slow smile widens her lipsticked mouth. She taps away, a glint in her eye. “I need to run up and finish something. Morgan can call Will. I just sent his number to your phone.”
Wait. What? “You could have texted him in that time!”
Fran stands, clapping her hands again. “Okay, enough tears! No puffy eyes for the wedding! Ava, hand over the list.”
Ava shrugs and fishes it from her pocket and turns it over.
Fran smooths the crumpled paper on her slender thigh. “Let’s get back to business, ladies. One final push. I need all hands on deck. Morgan, fetch your phone. Tonya, double-check that everything is in order at the pavilion.”
She runs a finger down the list and assigns various tasks.
“Unbelievable,” I whisper to Ava. “I thought you had something you needed to do.”
“Hey, at least now you have his number.” She winks and gives my back a push. “You heard the woman. Fetch your phone!”
I roll my eyes, leaving her on the step, and grab my phone from the coffee table. Sure enough, there’s Will’s number. An army of butterflies takes flight in my stomach. He won’t answer. No one answers unknown numbers. I put his contact information in my phone and call anyway.
After three rings, I’m about to hang up when I hear, “Hello.”
I gasp, momentarily stunned.
“Morgan?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you to answer. Wait. How did you know it was me?”
“Um, Hudson put it in my phone earlier.”
Right. The matchmakers.
“What’s up?” He rushes on, his voice clipped. “Do you need something?”
I tell him about the photographer and my idea. “We’re hoping either Emma’s with you or you have her number so you can ask her.”
“Sure. I have it.” All business. “I haven’t seen her in a few hours because her sisters arrived. But I’ll text her now.”
From the door, Fran is waving at me. “Come on. You can join Ava and me at the chapel to meet the florist.”
“Fran?” Will says.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath and follow the mother of the bride out the door. “It sounds like we’re going to the chapel if Emma wants to meet us there.”
“All right. I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks, Will.”
“Yep.” The call ends as if he couldn’t wait to cut me off.
I can’t blame him.
Fran, Ava, and I load into the golf cart. Fran drives while Ava and I sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the back seat. At first, Ava leans forward, chattering about the wedding details with her mom, but eventually, she scoots back and gives me a wicked grin. “So…what did Will say?”
“He said he’d ask Emma.”
“Of course he did. Did he say anything else? Anything more interesting?”
I cross my arms. “No.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Too bad.”
Yeah. Too bad.
The florist is already unloading, so we pitch in to help. I carry a lovely arrangement of white roses accented with two types of smaller blue flowers that Ava explains are called delphinium and forget-me-nots.
She nudges me when we return for our second load. “Look who it is.”
Will and Emma are walking down the boardwalk. Emma holds her camera with one hand and waves with the other.
Will avoids my gaze and addresses Ava. “I heard you needed a photographer.”
Ava rushes to Emma. “Thank you. Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’d love to.”
“Thank you so much.”
As we lift boxes of flowers from the florist’s van, Emma edges in closer to Ava. “So…how’s everything inside? Is the archway these two put together still standing?”
My mouth drops open, and Will glares at her.
Ava only laughs. “Yes. Everything is good. The florist is decorating the archway now.”
Emma winks, and rubbing the back of his neck, Will finally meets my eye.
I pretend to wipe sweat from my brow. “Whew.”
At least, Emma didn’t tell Ava about the leftover piece.
Instead, she snaps photos as Ava and Fran make sure the florist knows what to do.
Emma and I carry flowers to Tonya at the pavilion, and Emma explains her plan to capture a brief send-off message from each person in the bridal party.
I love the idea and promise to let her record mine later. But what’ll I say?
Will returns to the other groomsmen, and Emma accompanies to capture their prewedding shenanigans.
I never had a chance to talk to him. It seems he didn’t want to anyway.
On my way back to the chapel, I pull out my phone and shoot him a text.
Morgan: Thank you. Emma’s going to do a great job.
When he replies with a thumbs-up, I frown at my phone.
Ava waves me over to the golf cart where she’s waiting for Fran to stop micromanaging the florist.
I slide in next to her.
She nods at my phone. “Leo?”
“No. Will.”
“Why the frown?”
I lift a shoulder and show her the short conversation. “He’s done talking to me. Or even looking at me, for that matter.”
A crease sinks into the skin between her brows. “You never told me how your talk with Leo went.”
“It was all right.”
She lets out an exasperated breath as the breeze rustles her hair. “Morgan. Details. He didn’t come all this way to accompany his mom. What did he say?”
“Fine. He says he misses me.”
She sits straighter. “I knew it. And do you miss him?”
I rest against the seat. “No. Not at all.” It’s entirely true. “I mean, I did for a while. But not anymore.”
Ava shoves her hair aside and rests her elbows on her knees. “So, not a love triangle after all.” She winks. “Enemies to lovers it is.”
She’d be right if my life were a romance. But it’s not. Lately, it’s just a series of unfortunate events leading up to an overly complicated wedding. What do you call that kind of story?
“Ava, he doesn’t like me. He won’t even talk to me. And no wonder. I’ve been pushing him away since I got here. And now Leo’s here. And everything is complicated.”
“But here’s the question. Do you like Will? And I don’t want to hear any of your crap about not dating until college.”
I splay my fingers, palm up, in my lap. “Yes. I like him. But I’ve only known him for, like, what? Forty-eight hours?”
Her phone buzzes. An unknown number flashes. She lifts it where I can’t see and opens the text. Her eyes go wide. “Morgan Whitney, you’ve been holding out on me.”
“What?” I reach for the phone, but she jerks away. She starts reading the text aloud. “‘Hey, Ava. This is Emma. I know this is weird. Your future husband didn’t want to break the no-communication rule of the day, but he just had to share these photos with you. He found them in his glove box.’”
I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh no,” I say behind my fingers. I can’t keep from smiling and blushing, so I try to hide both with my hands.
“Oh no, is right.” Ava sings out a laugh. She pushes to her feet next to the golf cart as if the news is too big to take sitting down. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
When she turns the phone around, I peek between my fingers. There on her screen is a photo of one of the Polaroids I hid in Hudson’s truck. The one of that amazing kiss. Will’s hand on my neck. His thumb brushing my jaw. My hand gripping his shirt. Our lips pressed together.
Another photo flashes onto the screen, and I lower my hands. This one, now that I look at it, may even be more intimate than the last. Our bodies are standing in the same position, but our lips have separated. Our faces are very close, and we’re staring at each other with an odd, dazed shock.
It wasn’t just me. That kiss surprised him too.
Ava must’ve seen the change in my face. She pulls the phone back and lets out a little yelp. “I ask again. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“We agreed not to. We thought you’d make a big deal out of it.” I wave my hand up and down in front of her. “Like you are right now. They wouldn’t give us the ring until we kissed for the photo.”
She bounces on her toes. “Wow. This is too good. I guess that makes you a really good friend. To kiss someone you don’t even like to get my fiancé’s ring. But that’s not really the truth either, is it? It wasn’t someone you don’t like after all.”
She can’t stop smiling.
I groan and put my head in my hands. “Ava, what do I do?”
She jams a hand on her hip. “Well, you have to tell him how you feel, obviously.”