Chapter 70 Deli
Deli
Deli had seen more grand wedding ceremonies in her life, but she hadn’t seen any more beautiful.
The arch was draped in billowing chiffon and long swaths of tartan, and the blues and periwinkles she’d woven through the ash wood popped against the slate sea and sky.
Andrew stood like a pillar in deep hues of forest green and gray, while Blair burned against the horizon—the white smoke of her skin and the hearth of her hair alive and wild among the blue.
Their vows had been lovely and simple. Andrew revealed himself to be a poet, penning a declaration to Blair that had Kieran beaming and Penny hiding her face.
“Look at what you’ve given me,” Blair said simply. “I could love you until my dying breath, and it would never be enough.”
Andrew burst into tears.
Will announced they were married and led the crowd in a toast as they laughed and kissed and danced back down the aisle to rousing cheers.
“Deli!” Aunt Mo caught her hands and spun, twirling them in a girlish circle and laughing as the last of the guests rolled away from the cottage in a caravan to The Wallflower’s Crown. “Let’s get crackin’. Poor Lachlan will be fending the partygoers alone.”
“Where’s my mom? And Grandma Rosemary?”
“Graham offered to take them.”
“They agreed to that?”
“Once they saw Graham.”
They both chuckled, soaking up the feeling of it being just the two of them again as they climbed in Mo’s car and started down the road.
“Speaking of Lachlan . . .” Aunt Mo tread carefully, letting the question float unspoken for Deli to catch or leave to drift away.
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Did he tell you he’s sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you he’s really sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you he’s in love with you?”
If Deli had been driving, she would have swerved into a ditch. “Did he tell you he’s in love with me?”
Aunt Mo looked pained. “I’ve known him a very long time, Deli.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Aunt Mo’s cheeks blew out against her pinched lips.
“No! You don’t get to drop something like that and go all pufferfish!”
“What have you told him?” Aunt Mo demanded. “How do you feel about Lachlan?”
“I—” Deli’s voice fell. “I don’t know.”
“Well, buddy, I suspect he knows that, too.”
They were quiet until the roof of Lachlan’s home came into view. They could hear the rowdiness from the road.
Deli cleared her throat. “I’ve loved Trey for so long.”
Aunt Mo nodded. “How does Trey feel about you?”
Deli thought about the way he’d happily accepted her affection and devotion for years and years and never wondered if it hurt her. “I don’t think he cares.”
“Lachlan cares.”
They were pulling into the parking lot.
“Lachlan . . .” Deli tried to find the word for what he’d done. Promising not to be ashamed of her, and breaking that promise. “Lachlan lied.”
“Deli.” She put the car in park. “You and I are not the only ones with a family who made it hard to be loved. Lachlan is learning, too.”
Aunt Mo squeezed her hand and got out. “Well, are you coming? William is in there with your mother.”
Deli scrambled for the door. “Oh god, and yours!”