2
Shoulders back, skirt smoothed, necklace straight, smile on.
“Boys, you remember the Cantons.” Mr. Bell, Leeland, says.
When Dad said old oil money, I didn’t realize he meant the accent and wears a cowboy hat with his tux kind of Oil money. This guy is wearing an actual bolo tie. I’m not sure if that makes me more or less nervous as I glance around the table. Our families are sitting together, though no one is sitting right now. When we arrived, all the men stood in a display of old-school manners I’m used to from my father and grandfather.
Both of those men are beside me, plus my mother and grandmother, and my uncle, who looks sick. I’m surprised he’s here at all. Except I’m not, because we’re the Cantons. We get along. We’re the perfect example of the All American Bible Belt Family.
It’s painfully odd to be here without at least one of my sisters, though. For the first time in ages men outnumber women in my immediate surroundings, since the Bells have three sons, who all nod awkwardly at their father, then back at me.
“Leeland, good to see you. You remember my wife, Sandra,” Dad says, his cheesy southern charm turned up so high it breaks my internal Cheese Meter.
“Doc, great to see you.”
“You too, Leeland. Hello, Claire.” My mom greets his wife with a hug.
Dad puts a hand on my back and straightens taller, as if showing off a prized trophy. “And you all may not have officially met but you know my oldest daughter, Susan.”
“Of course! You look lovely tonight, doesn’t she, boys?” Mr. Bell shifts to his sons, who have vastly different reactions to their dad. “Susan, you may not remember meeting him when you kids were little but this is Joshua.”
Josh smiles a blinding, just-as-perfect-as-advertised-on-sports-postgame-coverage smile at me. He really does look like Tom Brady, but his dark hair takes his appeal up a few notches. It’s thick and short and slightly waved, as if he didn’t style it, even though I’m sure he did.
Will look amazing in a tux, standing at the end of the flower-lined aisle at our church…
Like he can hear my inner thoughts, his smile grows a bit and he winks.
Holy cow, tippin’ right on over.
If winks could kill, grab a nail and seal my coffin because I’m dead.
He’s so hot I’m dead. Dead. Dead.
Thank God for extra strength deodorant.
And Crest White strips. I smile back, the air freezing my gums because I wore said strips for two hours. I just took them off in the car outside, so eating and drinking is going to be painful tonight.
Worth it.
“My middle son Adam,” Leeland goes on, throwing a glare at what looks to be a slightly shorter, thicker, tanner, much grumpier version of Josh. He’s just as muscular but less put together, with bushier eyebrows and a longer, shaggier hair cut. He dips his chin and turns up one side of the flat line that I'm guessing he considers a smile. He refuses to look in our direction after that. It seems this Bell hates being here.
“And Thomas.” The big cowboy finishes, sighing at his youngest son. Thomas waves at me while chewing a huge bite of food. He’s about fifteen and looks like he’ll be every bit as gorgeous as his brothers. “Excuse him. Growth spurt my wife says. Come, join us.” He looks pointedly at Josh who pulls out the seat next to himself and glances at me, brows raised.
Here we freaking go.
“This isn’t awkward at all, huh?” He jokes as I sit.
“Right?” I say too loudly.
“No worries. We’ll figure it out.” He smiles again and I almost faint, again.
He does seem different than what I pictured. Much more relaxed and confident. In all of his postgame interviews he seemed so unassuming, so humble and grateful I almost wondered if he’d be shy.
A server comes by and gives the Bells their drinks.
As Josh grabs his beer he looks at me, “What would you like to drink, champagne maybe?” I nod and he smirks at the female server—who is just as close to fainting as I am, by the looks of her—as he says, “Champagne for my girl, here, please.”
He looks back at me and relaxes into his seat. He spreads his six-foot-three frame and casually slings his arm over the back of my chair.
No, not shy at all.
“My dad said your family doesn’t do this?” Josh asks me.
His blue eyes are dark and clear, like the ocean in winter. “D-do what?”
“The arranged marriage thing.”
I laugh awkwardly, “Um, no. I couldn’t believe it, still can’t. Believe it. It’s all pretty…unbelievable.” Susan! Think of other words! And the last part came out way too breathy and I’m staring. Look away, already! But I can’t. I don’t want to seem so taken with him but…well, he’s him. Josh Bell. So dreamy in his suit and smelling so good.
He chuckles at me in a way that makes me feel about five years old until he nods in agreement. “I get it, it’s weird.” He sips his drink and then cocks his head. “But it’s how I was raised. You think my dad’s old fashioned, you should see my grandfather up in Kansas. All my uncles too. Many of them were paired off and they’re all hellbent on making sure their firstborns secure good marriages too.”
He looks at me and starts to frown.
Because he has stopped talking.
This is the natural point in conversation where the other person talks, Susan! Talk!
“Oh, Really? Uh, huh. That’s…” Don’t say unbelievable. Don’t. Don’t say it. “Hard to believe?”
Idiot!
He laughs freely, a deep, happy sound that contradicts the stiffness of his dad and this table, of our whole arrangement. I groan into my drink that’s just arrived, chugging a bit before finding the rest of my vocabulary. “Sorry.” I snap, realizing. “Could’ve gone with the Princess Bride classic, Inconceivable! See, I do know other words, I promise.”
He laughs again before completely salvaging the whole night with three words, “I believe you.”
At that, we both laugh and I finally relax a little bit. If we can laugh together, maybe this will be okay after all.
“Like I said, we’ll figure it out, Suze.”
Suze!
He points back and forth between us. “I mean, look at us, we got this. Number one Bell, number one Canton, who just happens to be stunning, by the way. Arrangement or not, I’m one lucky guy.”
Oh, man. I’m screwed. All I can think is how this is unbelievable. Josh Bell is unbelievable! Thank you, God and your mighty will—which this marriage clearly is, by the way! You’re the best! I don’t want to be a missionary!—for helping me not to say so out loud again.
As Josh takes another sip of his drink and watches me blush with a smirk, I think this will be more than just okay. I think I might be the lucky one in all this. As the night goes on, I know I am. He’s funny and attentive, asking me questions and chiming in about all the mutual people we know or things we like. He keeps my glass full and takes my hand to lead me to the dance floor…where he can actually dance!
We don’t slow dance but he puts his hands on my hips a few times and steals glances at my chest, I think. I don’t have any cleavage showing—Canton girls could never—but the silky blue spaghetti strap dress is fitted and flattering to my figure. I chose it because it makes my blue eyes pop but it’s also pretty tight on my butt, which I think he’s noticed.
And after a tight hug goodbye in the lobby, he asks me to go on our first real date next week. I practically float back to the car, ignoring teasing jabs about how taking one for the team is pretty rough, huh from Dad and I-told-you-so side glances from Mom.
I climb into the back of the hired black Suburban and imagine Sadie’s face when I tell her. She is old enough to knows who he is. Skye might know him too.
Gosh, this morning I was dreading going to a boring charity thing. I was confused about dating Mark and wondering when my love life would start to get exciting. What a difference a few hours can make!
I wonder what my life will look like in a few months…