And a visit to him is long overdue.
Chapter 49
Daisy
"Sweet mother of petunia's,"Vivi grumbles, hauling a sack of groceries into my house. "It's cold outside. Like, really freaking cold. Have you made sure Hugo has heaters set up for the reception?"
"Um, yeah," I nod absentmindedly, helping her unpack the groceries. Vivi and I always splitbuy one, get onedeals from the grocery store. "He texted yesterday and asked if I'd looked at the weather forecast for the weekend. I said I hadn't, and he told me not to worry, that he had it all covered."
When Hugo asked if I'd checked the weather for my own wedding, I didn't feel bad admitting I hadn't. Ever since last weekend when I spent the evening with Penn, I've been turning over uncomfortable thoughts in my head. A man as controlling as Glenn Hampton would certainly be upset by something possibly threatening his son's impending nuptials, and paying to make the problem go away is undoubtedly in his wheelhouse, but it still feels like I'm missing something. There are obviously things I don't know, and I haven't pressed because I'm haven't been certain I wanted to know. There are some situations in which Pandora's box is better left with the lid intact. That'sthe way I felt when I first found out Peter was Penn, but as my wedding day creeps closer, I'm not so sure that's how I feel anymore. Maybe that's why checking the weather for this weekend was the last thing on my mind.
Vivi flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, saying, "You're the first wedding being held at Summerhill. I think Hugo's freaking out a little bit."
"It's good it's only me and Duke. Trial run."
"Ri-ight." Vivi closes the fridge, examining me with her mom eyes. "What's wrong with you? Besides the fact you're marrying one of our closest friends for fakesies."
I know she's being funny, but her words hit with the swiftness of an arrow.
I bite my lip. Look away. Try like hell to keep from feeling the tsunami of emotions rising up inside me, over and over. But the truth is, I can't. Everything is too big. Too much.
"I'm in love with him, Viv."
She grabs me, wraps me in her arms. For all her tough, brash talk, she is a nurturer at heart. My tears spill over, dammed up for too long. She lets me cry, and when the tears subside, she stands back, looks me directly in the eyes, and says, "Timing has not been kind to you."
I sniff, pulling two tissues from the box on my coffee table and loudly blowing my nose. "I don't know what to do."
"Is there an alternative?"
"Sure." I shrug like the answer is too easy. "Upend my life."
"I know that, but I mean,is there an alternative you would actually choose?"
Confusion knits my brows. Vivi blows out a heavy breath. "I mean, is there something between upending your life and getting what you want?"
Her phone rings as soon as she's done with her question. "It's my mom," she says, answering with a, "Hey, Mama."
Does Vivi know she smiles when she talks to her mom? Pain slices across my heart. It's premature grief from expected future loss, because my next thought isHow many more phone calls will I have with my mom?
While Vivi is answering her mother's question (something about how to cut a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the kids the way Vivi does it), I go down the hall, sit on my bed, and call my mother.
Bonnie answers. "Hello, dear."
Disappointment flashes through me. I'd wanted my mother to pick up, to hear the familiar way she says my name when she answers my call.
"Hi, Bonnie. Can my mom talk?"
"She's napping right now, but I bet she'll be up soon. She's so excited for this weekend, it's been interrupting her sleep."
Nails from the hand I'm not using to hold a phone curl into my palm, pressing deeply until the pain of a physical sting distracts from the emotional.
"I think I'll come by for a visit, unless you have an appointment you need to get to."
"We'll be here," she responds. "Busy day around the farm. The feed store made its delivery, your dad has been running tours all day, and now he has a visitor waiting for him in his study. Handsome young man showed up about ten minutes ago, but he didn't seem very happy."
This has me straightening. "Did his visitor drive up in a truck?"
"Let me see," she says, and I picture her walking across the wood floor of her room next to my mother's, pulling over the lace curtain to peek. "Yep. And there's a dog sitting in the front seat. At least I think it's a dog. It could be a statue. The thing isn't moving at all."
