“Don’t worry. It’s not four yet. And the venue is perfect. Exactly as we planned. Everything’s ready except?—”
“The bride,” she finished for me. “I spoke to her yesterday.”
My heart stuttered. “And?”
“And I did my part. The rest is up to her... and you.”
“What does that mean? Did she seem receptive? Angry? Did she mention me? The dress?”
“Patience, Cal. Some things can’t be rushed, controlled, or bought. This is one of them.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be true.” A pause, then: “Are you ready to tell her you love her.”
“Yes, because I do.”
“Good boy.”
“I just hope I get the chance to tell her if she shows up.”
“Whenshe shows up,” Gram corrected, echoing Chance beside me. “See you at the altar, darling.”
She hung up before I could respond.
“Everything okay?” Chance asked, watching me carefully.
“Gram talked to Anica yesterday. But she won’t tell me what was said.”
“Probably for the best. You’re already one floral adjustment away from a complete nervous breakdown.”
“I am perfectly calm,” I insisted, while simultaneously straightening my already straight tie.
“Sure you are. How about we get you a drink?”
Before I could respond, Kris and Morgan appeared, both looking suspiciously more relaxed than when they’d arrived.
“That’s an awesome idea! The bar is excellent,” Kris announced, clapping me on the shoulder. “And fully stocked for either celebration or consolation, depending on how this circus plays out.”
“Have a little faith,” Morgan chided, though he too seemed to have fortified himself with liquid courage. “Our boy’s about to make romantic history.”
“Or tragic history,” Kris countered. “Either way, I’m just glad I’m here to witness it. This story’s going to be legendary regardless of the outcome.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said as I ran a hand down the side of my face.
“Anytime,” Kris grinned. “Now, is there a protocol for this? Do we still stand up there with you if it’s just you? Is this more of a performance art piece or an actual wedding at this point?”
“We stand with him,” Chance said.
“Of course we do,” Morgan agreed, suddenly serious. “We’re just giving him shit because that’s how we show love.”
“Don’t use the L-word around Cal,” Kris stage-whispered. “He’s still building up immunity to it.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You three are the worst groomsmen in history.”
“But we’re yours,” Morgan said, straightening his boutonniere. “So what’s the plan, boss? How long do we wait if...” He trailed off, but the unspoken question hung in the air between us. How long would I stand there, alone at the altar, before admitting defeat?
“As long as it takes. Five minutes. Then five more after that. And then another five.”
