Chapter 12
Ari
“Could you make your cursive swoopier?” My mom leans over my shoulder, scrutinizing the invitation envelope I’ve been working on for the last thirty seconds like she’s grading a paper.
“Swoopier?” I repeat flatly.
“Yes. Romantic.” She points to the invitation Landrie just finished beside me. “See how Landrie’s handwriting has personality? Yours looks slightly aggressive.”
I glance at my sister’s envelope.
Sure enough, her handwriting belongs on Pinterest. Elegant loops. Delicate slants. The kind of cursive that people request on butcher paper signs at baby showers.
Mine looks like I’m signing legal documents under duress.
“It’s readable,” I mutter.
“It’s readable,” Mom agrees. “But Landrie’s is beautiful.”
Everything Landrie does somehow turns beautiful.
Her engagement pictures? Beautiful.
Her floral choices? Beautiful.
The way she tied a ribbon around the tiny jars of maple butter for shower favors? Apparently life-changing, based on my mother’s reaction the other night. Meanwhile, I’m over here getting handwriting critiques.
Across from us, Landrie laughs softly while reviewing the guest list. “Mom, stop micromanaging her cursive.”
“I’m not micromanaging.” Mom seals another envelope. “I just want everything to look nice.”
My mom lives for the town's approval, and this wedding feeds that beast perfectly.
I address another envelope.
Ms. Alvina Lucinda Berkeley, Reese’s mom.
“Don’t forget the flourish on the Y,” Mom says.
I stop writing altogether. “Do you want my help or not?”
“I’m simply giving guidance.” She smiles tightly. “Though I’m surprised you even have time to help us today.”
“It’s Saturday,” I say carefully. “What else would I be doing?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her eyes lift innocently. “I assumed you’d be spending time with Wade.”
I’ve been waiting for her to say something. Surprised she’s lasted this long.
Landrie’s lips twitch like she, too, knows where this is going.
I pause mid last name. “If you have something to say, please, by all means, say it.”
Mom folds her hands neatly on the table. “The entire town watched you climb into Wade’s lap last night at the football game. Why would I have something to say about that?”
“I did not climb into his lap.”
“There are videos, Ari.” Oh, I remember that tone from my teenage years.
“There were bees circling me. Or would you prefer I let them sting me and swell up to the point where I can’t breathe?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her tone says she absolutely does not believe the bees defense. “Well, whatever happened, people are talking.”
Heat creeps up my neck.
The videos have been everywhere since last night. TikTok edits. Instagram reels. Somebody even slowed down the moment where Wade’s hand accidentally landed on my butt and zoomed in like it was footage from a crime investigation.
“Honestly,” Mom continues, “it’s embarrassing.”
That hits hard because it is embarrassing. Not the kind of images I want my students posting of me. But exactly the kind of situation I seem to find myself in a lot.
Beside me, Landrie gently stacks completed invitations into neat piles. “I think people just got excited. It will blow over in twenty-four hours.”
“Excited?” Mom repeats. “Half the town already thinks Ari makes reckless decisions. Now she’s publicly straddling the high school principal in front of students.”
My stomach tightens.
There it is.
Not: You embarrassed yourself.
But: This is exactly who we expected you to be—the embarrassment of the family.
Landrie finally looks up. “Mom, it was obviously an accident.” I appreciate my sister’s efforts, though they’re falling on deaf ears.
“I know it was an accident, but perception matters, especially in a small town. And Wade Stevenson already has a reputation that’s somehow worse than yours.”
The way she says reputation makes my jaw tighten.
“Wade’s not that bad.”
Mom gives me a look. One that says Don’t even try to defend him.
And suddenly, I’m sixteen all over again.
Sneaking out. Getting caught. Being told I’m impulsive. That I have the wrong friends. Too reckless. Too much. While Landrie sat beside my mother on the couch, designing her next pageant dress and making responsible life choices like straight As and volunteer work.
My pen slips slightly, streaking ink across Alvina Lucinda Berkeley's envelope.
Mom immediately notices. “Oh, dear. Careful.”
Something in me starts folding inward.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
The way it always does when I’m around her.
“I just don’t want you repeating the same mistakes,” she says softer now. “You always choose the exciting guy over the stable one, and it ends with you crying.”
The kitchen goes still.
Because we all know she’s not just talking about Wade.
She’s talking about Andy.
Four years with a man who could barely hold a job while I convinced myself love meant sparks and chemistry and “seeing potential.”
Landrie slowly sets down her pen, feeling the growing tension in the room. “Mom’s just worried because she doesn’t want you to end up hurt again.”
The thing about Landrie is she never means to make me feel worse. That’s almost the hardest part. She’s kind. Sweet. Easy to love. But she’s my younger sister, handing out advice to the problem child while I ruin her wedding invitations with my emotionally unstable handwriting.
“Landrie’s right,” my mom sighs. “I’m just worried about you.
I watched your relationship with Andy for years, the way he took advantage of you, how you became a shell of the woman you once were.
We’re just barely getting that side of you back.
I don’t want to lose it again because of some guy you can’t stay away from. ”
Her words are heartfelt, but they don’t help make me feel better. All I hear is Landrie’s right….shell of the woman you once were….some guy you can’t stay away from. It all just reinforces my biggest fears of never measuring up to Landrie.
The back door swings open before I can respond. September air rushes in alongside Wade and Jaxon.
“Well, the fish won today,” Jaxon announces.
“That’s because Jaxon talks too much to catch anything.” Dad looks up from the living room recliner, inserting himself in the conversation for the first time, probably to ease the tension from the seriousness of seconds ago.
“Fishing is about connection,” Jaxon laughs.
“It’s about fish,” Wade counters, then his eyes move to me and immediately narrow slightly, as if he’s the only one who notices the heaviness in the room.
Unfortunately, my mother notices his direct attention on me. “Speak of the devil,” she mutters.
“Mrs. Langford, have you been talking about me?” Wade grins, unaffected by her sour expression. “I’m honored.”
“You probably shouldn’t be.” She doesn’t smile back.
Jaxon walks over to Landrie automatically, kissing the top of her head before looking at the invitations spread across the table. “How many more do you have?”
“Like, one hundred,” Landrie groans. “But I guess when you’re inviting the entire town, that’s to be expected.”
“Good thing your handwriting is cute,” he says.
“You see?” My mom looks at me. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.”
I stare at the envelope in front of me. No cute handwriting. No perfect guy to adore me. Everything about me feels lacking in my mother’s eyes.
Wade pulls out the chair beside me. “You alright?”
“Fine.”
He studies my face for one second too long.
Annoyingly perceptive man.
My mom stacks another pile of invitations. “We were just discussing the football game last night.”
“Ah.” Wade leans back in his chair. “What a great come-from-behind win, right?”
“That’s not what she’s referring to,” I say. “She’s upset about the bee attack.”
“Yes, well.” Mom sniffs. “Some people online seem to think it looked less like bees and more like public indecency. People are talking.”
“They seem to do that in this town, don’t they?” Wade says easily. “One of Autumn Ridge’s charms.”
“That doesn’t mean I have to like what they’re saying about my daughter.”
“If they’re talking bad about your daughter, then they must not know her too well,” he says. “Because there’s not one bad thing anyone could say about Ari.”
Simple.
Casual.
But something about how quickly he says it tugs at my heart unexpectedly.
Mom looks at him pointedly. “I’m not worried about all the talk. I’m worried about Ari making another bad choice because she mistakes flirtation for substance.”
Okay.
That one does it.
Something hot flashes through me. For Wade. For myself.
“Well, good news for everyone in this town and for this family that likes to comment on my love life.” My voice comes out far calmer than I feel. “Wade and I are officially dating. So you’ll all have plenty to criticize for the next little while.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even Jaxon looks startled.
Mom blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I sit up, looping my arm through his. “We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Wade slowly turns toward me, amusement dancing behind his eyes.
Mom laughs once. Short and disbelieving. “Ari.”
“What?” My chin lifts.
“Wade is not your boyfriend. You’ve lived here for two weeks. And you’ve repeatedly said you’re not interested in dating anyone, so it’s kind of hard to believe that you went from being uninterested in dating at all to having a boyfriend.”
Beside me, Wade lifts one finger like maybe he should contribute here, but I barrel forward before he can.
“Well, Wade changed my mind. He’s exactly what I need and want.”
“Wade flirts recreationally and then moves on to the next girl. That’s not dating. That’s a red flag.” She looks over at him. “No offense, Wade.”
Wade nods as he leans back slightly. Not exactly hurt, but definitely aware and unsure if he should give a rebuttal.
“You don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“You’ve been ‘dating’ for five minutes. It’s not a real relationship.”
“Actually,” Wade cuts in smoothly, “it’s been building for years. I’ve just been waiting for Ari to come back home.”
My eyes whip toward him, searching his expression for a small sliver of truth in his words, but everything is masked, and I’m too busy at the moment to really dissect his words.
Mom scoffs. “Please. Wade in an actual relationship. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
And suddenly, my stubbornness fully activates.
Fine. She wants proof?
I’ll give her proof.
Before anyone can respond, I grab Wade’s face.
Like, fully grab it.
My fingers press into one cheek while my thumb squishes the other, forcing his mouth into an involuntary pucker.
His eyes go wide as I move in.
And then I kiss him.
Not romantically.
Not gracefully either.
It’s aggressive. Slightly awkward. Entirely fueled by spite and poor decision-making, which, if you ask my mother, is my MO.
Wade stills as if I’ve somehow managed to knock every flirty comeback out of him.
There’s a brief thought about how unexpectedly soft and warm his lips are before I shove his face away.
Hard.
Dramatically.
His head jerks backward as I release him with a triumphant lift of my chin, like I absolutely meant to assault him with a kiss in front of my family.
Our eyes lock for one short second, and something behind his gaze and his general speechlessness causes me to notice—to pause briefly—before my big ending.
“There,” I say breathlessly as I shift my eyes to my mom. “Proof.”
Nobody speaks.
Not my mom.
Not Landrie.
Not even Jaxon.
There’s a hefty chuckle from the recliner in the family room where my dad sits.
Leave it to Dusty Langford to find the whole scene funny instead of a detriment to his daughter’s future.
I grab Wade’s wrist, dragging him to his feet. “Feel free to tell anyone you want that we’re dating.”
And with that mic-drop of an exit, I force Wade out the side door with me.