31. Maggie
THIRTY-ONE
MAGGIE
My stomach has been all tied up in knots for hours. With my hair curled and my makeup done, I slip on the dress with the poofy sleeves and check myself in the mirror. My first thought is what Duke will think of the dress.
Then again, the poor guy has seen me in yoga attire, and then the day I was basically sporting syrup in my hair.
Why do I care what he thinks anyway? I feel good, confident even. But that confidence comes from the fact that I won’t be meeting my family alone.
At one-thirty, there’s a knock on the door and I wonder who it is. Hope is getting ready at her parents’ home, and I figured it would be easier to stay out of the way by getting ready at the townhouse. Besides, I need to get to the venue early just to make sure everything is set up for Hope. I’m sure Dallas has done an okay job, but I just want to make sure Hope has no regrets.
I open the door to see Duke standing there with a pink carnation in hand.
“Hey, I thought we were meeting at the mansion,” I say, trying to calm the beating of my heart. The guy looks even more attractive today, wearing a charcoal gray suit and a salmon-colored tie. We nearly match, and I think my brain is drawing a blank for what to say to this.
“I couldn’t let you go by yourself. I don’t have much else going on today and I wanted to pick you up.”
“Thank you. You didn’t bring your scooter, did you?” I ask, giving him a knowing look.
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I figured you wouldn’t want a natural blowout. I’ve got my little Camry here.” He turns and points to one of the unassigned spots in our parking lot.
“Let me get my shoes on and we’ll head out,” I say, waving him in.
“This is for you,” he says, reaching out the flower to me.
“It’s beautiful, thanks,” I say, taking it and giving it a sniff.
I rush up to my room and grab shoes and all the things that need to go in my clutch for the night. Phone, lip gloss, tissues, breath mints. Just in case of a good-night kiss.
Duke looks dang good and my hormones are suddenly out of whack.
Once I’ve gathered up everything, I go downstairs, where Duke is studying a picture on the bookshelf. It’s of me and Hope when we were teens, sitting out by the fountain in the town square.
“Did you like coming here every summer?” he asks, turning to me with approving eyes as he scans me up and down.
“Yes. My parents called it Camp Hope, since it was like a summer camp down here. We made so many great memories that this was the perfect place for a change.”
“I remember the two of you pretending to be brides. You had little handkerchiefs for veils and had picked all of the dandelions from the yard to use as your bouquet.”
I smile only slightly and say, “You remembered that?”
He nods, looking at me intently, which makes it difficult for me to breathe.
“A-are you ready?” I manage to say as my brain spins with this new information.
Duke holds out his arm for me. And there goes my heart skipping a beat again.
He opens the car door and helps me gather up all the extra fabric so it doesn’t get stuck when it shuts.
“How are you feeling?” he asks once he’s in the driver’s side and starting the car.
“Nervous. Excited. Wishing it were all over.”
Duke chuckles and says, “I can understand that. What do you need me to do? I can act out anything you need me to.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Are your acting skills on par with your singing abilities?”
He takes a moment to think about that and says, “Singing is probably a level one for me. So I would say my acting skills are at a level four.”
From the way he looks at me, I know he means to compare it to my ice cream theory.
“Well, that’s got to be better than mine. I’ve always been told that everyone can see exactly how I’m feeling from my expression.”
“I would have to agree with that,” Duke says, tensing when he sees that I’ve balled up my fist and go in for a light punch to the shoulder.
“Okay, so the people you’re going to need to avoid are…” I explain about my several aunts and cousins, even showing him pictures so he can at least have some idea of who they are.
“Just hang out with me throughout the evening and then we should make it through.”
“Do we get to dance?” Duke asks.
I’m surprised by that question and say, “I think Hope has some music planned. Why?”
“Because while I may be a horrible singer and my acting skills are not going to get me to Hollywood, I know quite a bit about dancing.”
“Are we talking waltz or break dancing?” I ask, curious. But it isn’t for a few seconds that I realize my tone is flirty. And I didn’t want to crawl in a hole because of it. Progress.
“Both. But I’ll have to keep the breakdancing in check for another time when we have a flash mob. I’m still bummed I didn’t get the chance to try out for that.”
I laugh again, and am surprised by how extremely happy I am to be here and get to hear Duke without the filter of thinking he’s horrible because of his profession. I could get used to something like this. The question is would he want to continue our relationship to the next level, or just let it be?