My heart swells so damn big in my chest when I take him in, reclining in his chair with an ankle kicked over his knee. His hair is still neatly combed after a busy night of filling orders and getting talked at like he’s a posable mannequin. A situation like that is his hell, but he played the game because I asked him to.
Daddy’s waiting for me to give the okay. I get up and round the table to give him a hug. “Good night.”
He squeezes my ribs. “I’m proud of you, kiddo. Say the word, and I’ll abort this thing.”
Word.
Word, word, word.
My time with Durban would also be up. The chaos that would ensue if the wedding got called off? I’d lose track of Durban, and then what? I call him? I look at my phone every three seconds waiting on him? I go into the distillery like an obsessed fan and do the walk of shame out if he rejects me?
Ugh. The wedding has to be a go. “It’s fine. Love you. Say good night to Mama for me.”
He gives me another pat before he ducks out of the netting and takes the path to the parking lot.
I don’t return to the table. Durban tracks me as I wander around the pavilion.
I trail my fingers over the nets. Stanford demanded that Daddy spray for bugs, but my ex didn’t get his way. My uncle even tried to strong-arm Daddy, but he wouldn’t budge. I can still hear his growl.We work with the land, we don’t fight against it.
The legs of Durban’s chair scrape against the wooden floor. “This place is going to be transformed tomorrow.” The steady thud of his boots sounds behind me, growing closer.
“Tomorrow, there’s supposed to be a breeze the perfect strength to keep the bugs away.” A perfect day for my cousin’s big day. The netting will be rolled up and unnoticeable. I tread toward the front where the band will be set up for the reception. “There’ll be a flower arch in the shape of the ranch sign you drive under when you turn down the driveway.” I stop exactly where the couple will stand. “White draping, white roses, with blush roses as accent.”
“You have good taste.”
My smile is sad. It’s going to be so beautiful. But it won’t be me enjoying it. “The chairs will all have matching accents on the backs. And a white satin runner will go from here to where the groom will dismount Hailstorm after he rides in like a white knight. After the vows, he’ll throw his new bride up on Clyde, and he’ll get on Hailstorm, and they’ll ride away.” Right in front of me. Because I’m relegated to the back corner.
“Maybe Hailstorm will have diarrhea.”
I laugh. “Maybe, but there’ll still be the reception to get through.”
“Where will the dance floor be?”
I hold my arms out and spin. The tips of my fingers brush against the hot skin of his arm. “Right here. And she’s going to dance to the song I told her I wanted to dance to with my prince when I was five.” I stop and drop my arms.
He digs out his phone. “What song is that?”
“‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Elvis Presley. My parents danced to it at their wedding. They said no one could believe Daddy didn’t have something by Garth Brooks, but Daddy’s a romantic and he and my mom love that song.”
Durban’s staring at his phone, tapping into it as he wanders to the nearest table. Is this another thing he thinks is corny?
Heat pricks the back of my eyes. Another shard of my childhood wedding dream cracks into smaller pieces. Tomorrow is going to be beautiful.
The first piano notes of a familiar song ring out from his phone.
Stunned, I stand in place while he prowls toward me.
“This song?” he asks.
“This one,” I say softly.
He pulls me close to him with one hand around my waist, and he takes my other. We start a slow two-step.
“She won’t be the first one to dance to this here tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “It’ll be one thing she can’t take from you.”
If I hadn’t fallen hopelessly in love with him already, that would have pushed me off the cliff. My entire heart is at his booted feet. “Thank you.”
I rest my head against his shoulder, and we dance. His heart beats a steady rhythm under my ear, making a special remix just for me with this song. The crickets and the frogs around us harmonize. It’s a sound that won’t be replicated tomorrow. The band won’t sound the same, the nature sounds will be different, and the couple up here dancing will not be us.
