21. Twenty-One #2
Gus shrugs. “You tend to make decisions that revolve around everyone else’s happiness—what would be best for the family.
” He reels back a bit as I stare at him.
“Don’t get me wrong, I think it makes you happy to take care of people like that, but this is different.
This job you got, that man up there?” The heat in my cheeks intensifies—something I don’t need when the temperature reads eighty-six at ten in the morning.
“Those are things you wanted, Cass. You made decisions for yourself, this time. It’s just made you extra happy. You’re like… happy, happy.”
I chuckle. “If I had a drink for every time you said the word happy just now, I’d be throwing up on this fine horse, here.” I pat Lady on the neck to emphasize my point. “But maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” One corner of his mouth turns up. “We all need some happy, Cass. It gives us something to cling to when the inevitable black cloud reappears—makes us less sad when storms come.”
My brow furrows, but I force a smile anyway. “I can’t really tell if you’re being optimistic or pessimistic right now.”
“I’m being realistic,” he says flatly.
“Ah.” I lift my chin with the word. “So, you’re just being Gus.”
“Okay,” he says, pulling his shoulder blades together to stretch. He shifts a bit, and I can tell he’s going to be sore later today. His legs will be jello as soon as he hops off that horse. “Now, go back to where you were,” he demands. “Tell Megan to trot up here instead.”
“No can do.” I point up ahead. “We’re about to be back in the forest, and those trails only accommodate one at a time.”
“You ruined my date.”
I gasp, holding my hand to my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a date. I thought you wanted to hang out with your sister.”
Gus chews on his cheek. “I was multitasking.”
When I roll my eyes, it’s halfhearted, but I’m thankful once we do break through the trees. Not only does the shade help alleviate some of the heat, but the soft rustling of leaves, the slow rocking of the horse, and the steady whisper of wind through the branches make me feel present—alive.
Maybe Gus was right. I am happy. I feel like I’m no longer alive to ease the ache of everyone else. Out here, I’m alive for myself. Like the horses out to pasture, I get to just breathe and exist.
To just be.
“You can’t cry at all of them!” Ellis throws her arms up. It’s the closest she’s gotten to bridezilla since she and Griffin got engaged. And if I’m being honest, I don’t think it even counts.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffles, grabbing another tissue from the pack she brought herself. “I’m just having emotions, and you’re beautiful in everything. I can stop.”
“Objectively,” Lennon starts from her place on the couch. “The first one was kind of ugly.”
“You’re right,” B concedes. “It was just the thought of her in a wedding dress at all. God, Ellis, I wish your mom could be here.”
There’s a brief silence, one where we sink into the realization that someone is missing at this event. Ellis’s mom died when she was thirteen, and her aunt, Beatrice, got custody in her early twenties.
Ellis hasn’t mentioned her mom much during this, but I know it stings—having her parent miss her wedding.
The showroom is nearly empty, Ellis being the only bride on this side of the row of dressing rooms erected right in the center of the store. Luckily, we’ve acquired at least three sales reps in our time here. They all must be bored with the lack of appointments.
Eight-thirty am on a Friday isn’t exactly a common time to pick out the wedding dress of your dreams.
“On that note,” Ellis says, heaving a sigh. “Next contender.” She spins, stepping off the platform and disappearing into the dressing room for a fourth dress. So far, she’s tried silhouettes that make her look like a cake topper.
Large princess ballgowns that are stunning, but they aren’t Ellis.
When she reappears, B, Lennon, and I audibly gasp.
“Ellis,” B says. “I’m not saying a word.”
Lennon snatches B’s pack of tissues from her hand. “Ah, shit,” she says, like the tears are unwelcome—and knowing her, they most certainly are. “This is the one.”
“I haven’t even looked at it!” Ellis complains. “Let me—”
Her words cut off when she turns toward the mirror. The dress, sleek and satin, fits her like a glove. The delicate straps move down to an exaggerated scooped back, the neckline a much more modest version of the same kind of drape.
Ellis stares at herself in the mirror, and we all sit silent. Finally, the petite brunette who originally booked this appointment steps forward. “Let’s try a veil with it, don’t you think?”
Two more sales representatives stand dotingly, watching Ellis turn to her side, admiring the dress in a way we haven’t seen yet.
“Fifth time’s a charm?” I whisper to Lennon, who has taken to dabbing her eyes.
A taller blonde woman steps forward, her black blazer sharp at every corner to match her features. She adjusts the lapels, close to where her nametag has been pinned with precision.
“The good news,” she starts as the other rep pins a veil on Ellis’s head, “is that the dress hardly needs alterations, and it is also on sale. You’re wearing the last one we have in stock.”
B breaks out into tears again, and I wonder how I have suddenly become the only dry-eyed human on this overly ornate, and horribly uncomfortable sofa.
I’m usually the crier.
Ellis turns around, a wide grin across her face. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I say, and I believe it. She’s absolutely glowing in this dress.
Her smile frowns. “Might end up at the courthouse, only. Our wedding venue fell through.”
I sit forward. “You’re kidding! When? Better yet, why?”
Ellis sighs, sliding the veil off her head. “Going out of business? We booked kind of late. It’s not like we want something huge, and I suppose I’ve been a poor planner for once in my life.”
“Out of business?” Lennon questions, pulling out her phone.
“Oh, come on. They had to have some kind of contingency plan—something. Let me see if I can find a sample of their contract online. No, actually, send me the one you signed. I’m sure they have to provide something, and I’m willing to fight it. ”
“You could have it at the farm,” I say, looking from Lennon to Ellis. The thought came out of my mouth before it even zipped through my mind, but it isn’t a bad idea. It’s beautiful out there. Based on Ellis’s Pinterest board that Lennon and I have been privy to for months, the space fits the vibe.
Ellis wrings her hands out in front of her. “Do you think Wesley would do it?”
“The wedding?” I ask. “He’s not ordained or anything, I’m not sure he would—”
“No,” Ellis says through a laugh. “Would he let us use the farm as a venue? I don’t want to put him out.”
Lennon scoffs. “For her?” she questions, tossing a thumb in my direction. “That man would get on his knees and crawl the length of the Grand Canyon.”
My face flushes. “Let me ask him. I’m sure it’ll work. Same date at the end of August?” I ask.
Ellis smiles again. “Same date,” she confirms. “Now, let's get this dress before someone else nabs it!”
Lennon rolls her eyes. “Better yet, let’s keep it on. They can’t nab it if it’s glued to your body, Ellis.”
We spend the rest of the day together, shopping until we find ourselves back at Lennon’s house for a movie. By the time we pull up to my house, and I hop out of the car, it’s decently late.
I dig in my purse, finding my keys and jamming the house key into the lock just in time to see a figure walking down the length of the driveway.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I twist the key harder.
“It’s just me,” Wes calls.
I breathe a sigh of relief, lifting my hand to my slowing heartbeat. “You scared me,” I admit.
Another figure trots behind him, slim and content to follow in Wes’s footsteps. Wes looks back at her and scoops the cat up. “Rory wanted to come with me. Roe’s home, so I wondered if you wanted some company.”
Wes finally reaches the porch steps, smiling up at me the way he did the day I brought him brownies.
“You’re always welcome here,” I say. “However, you’ll need to pick one of the three romcoms I was hellbent on watching this evening in order to join me on the couch.
Lennon picked some post-apocalyptic movie I didn’t have much interest in. ”
Wes takes one long step toward me, wrapping a large hand around my waist. He smells like his cologne and soap—like he’d been planning to walk down here all day. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says. “I’ll take your deal and offer to watch all three in a rapid movie marathon.”
“Alright, Cowboy. You got yourself a deal.”