Epilogue
GEORGIA - A FEW MONTHS LATER
Everything is perfect.
Absolutely perfect, if I do say so myself.
I don’t have the first clue in event planning, but for my best friend, I’d do it all over again. If only we didn’t have to rearrange everything because of a snowstorm in the middle of April. Even though blizzards aren’t uncommon in the spring, no one thought we’d get it on Rylee’s wedding day.
Everyone that was at the ranch had to extend their stays. All the staff are working overtime to make sure the wedding is perfect and everyone is fed. Betty even came up from the diner to pitch in.
Carrying a vase of flowers across the dining room to put it in place, the door flies open into me. I’m knocked off my feet and water flies everywhere.
Including on my perfectly pressed dress.
“What the hell?” I shriek, falling smack on my ass.
“Oh, shit.”
Three young kids—early teens by the look of it—stop short in the doorway. They’re in sweatshirts adorned with a baseball team logo.
I do my best not to yell at them. But damn it, we’re down a set of flowers and now my dress is a mess.
“Where are your parents?” I ask, instilling a sense of calm I don’t feel in my voice.
“Umm…”
Before they can answer, they take off running. Kids. I love getting to be fun Aunt Georgia. I get to shower them with all the love and presents, and when they start crying, I get to give them back to their parents. Being a mom is not something I ever want for myself.
At least we’re at the ranch. Maybe there will be enough time to use a hair dryer on my dress. I have no idea if this satin material will hold up under the heat.
Not wanting to risk getting rammed into again, I head out the side door of the dining room. Except I’m not so lucky. I run into someone else as I push the door out and they push in.
This time, someone carrying a plate of food.
Fuck my life.
It’s one of the same kids, this time with another group. Clearly they didn’t get the memo the first time.
A big red splat stains the front of my dress. Strings of spaghetti stick to the light green satin.
“Seriously? Okay, where are your parents?”
This time, I can’t contain my annoyance. From what Kade told us, all guests are fully aware the dining room is off-limits. Everyone said they would respect the event happening. Clearly the baseball kids didn’t get the memo.
“She’s pissed,” one of them says.
“Oh, I wonder why,” I mutter to myself.
“You got something on your dress,” one of them snickers.
Deep breaths, Georgia. Deep breaths. Losing your cool on kids isn’t the solution.
“Where are your parents?” I ask again.
They dart off before I can get another word in. This time, it’s hard to contain my anger. There’s no rescuing my dress now. I can’t go home because there isn’t enough time before the ceremony starts, and I have nothing else to wear, having come in my sweats to get ready with the girls.
The only thing to do is to try and find the parents of these kids to make sure they don’t ruin the wedding. My guess is I’ll find someone’s parents at the bar.
A few people are grouped around a high top table in the back corner, laughing. I’ll start there, I guess.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt their conversation and they all stop to look at me.
A few have the gall to look irritated.
“Can we help you?” one of the dads asks.
“Are your kids running around in the dining room?”
“Our kids? They wouldn’t.” A woman shakes her head. “We told them not to.”
“They’re not disrespectful,” another woman adds.
“Do any of the team belong to you?” I ask, pinning each of them with a fierce stare. “Because this happened”—I wave a hand in front of my dress—“and I don’t want them messing up this wedding.”
“You might want to get that taken care of,” one of the women says.
“Are you—”
Someone grabs my bicep and pulls me away.
I’m fuming. Their kids are the ones wreaking havoc and she points out my dress?
“Look—”
I stop and spin to stare up at the person that dragged me out of there. An incredibly sexy man with wavy brown hair, but I’m not focused on that. Not entirely.
No. I’m pissed.
“Do those kids belong to you?” I ask again. It seems like all I’m doing is repeating myself.
Where are your parents?
Stay out of the dining room.
Do they belong to you?
“Not all of them. That’d be excessive.” He gives me a coy smile.
I poke a finger into his chest. “Are you trying to play cute with me?”
“What? No.” He raises his hands in defense.
“Because look!” I screech. Well, I didn’t mean for my voice to get that high, but here we are. “Look at what they did. I have spaghetti all over my dress. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Can you just wear something else?”
“Something else?” I pinch the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, taking a few deep breaths. “This is a wedding. I can’t just wear something else. I’m a bridesmaid. This is my dress.”
“Look, I’m sorry. They’re just kids.”
“Yeah, and they keep running in and out of the space that has signs that say ‘private event.’”
“They’re just letting off a little steam. There’s not much to do with all the snow, and they’re bored.”
“If you let them fuck up my best friend’s wedding, you won’t know what hit you.”
I point my finger in his face. I will not let this man get the best of me. No matter how sexy he is.
“You don’t have to be—”
“Be what? A bitch? You haven’t even seen my bitchy side.”
“Relax.” He throws his hands up. “I was going to say hard-ass. They’re just kids.”
“Does telling someone to relax ever actually make them relax?”
Because all it does is elevate my blood pressure.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’ll try and control the kids, but they’re bored.”
“Like I said, this is my best friend’s wedding. You—or your kids—will not mess it up.”
We tried to move them, but we couldn’t find accommodations in town. And Rylee and Chase were fine with it because they only wanted to get married. I can’t blame them. If I was that in love, I’d want to get married too. But I’m as single as ever.
“I’ll talk to the other parents. Make sure they stay out.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Joey
Where are you? We’re almost ready to get started
Great. And now I don’t have time to take care of my dress. Maybe if I wear a coat, no one will notice and then I might be able to change before the reception.
“Thank you.”
I spin on my heel, ready to leave before he stops me.
“What’s your name?”
“Georgia. But I don’t think you’ll need it again.”
He smiles at me. A tired, weary smile. I ignore how it makes my insides tingle— something that hasn’t happened in a very long time.
“Grant. Sorry again about your dress.”
“Just keep the kids out of the lodge and we’re good.”
He tips his head at me. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Good.”
Well, at least one thing is taken care of. Too bad I won’t get to see the hot dad again.
I have other things to worry about.
Like making sure my best friend’s wedding goes off without a hitch.
Well, without any more hitches. Because my dress is a disaster. But if that’s the worst thing that happens today, it’ll still be perfect for Rylee and Chase.
That’s all I want.
My life can wait another day.