“To see Phee.”
“I... Oh.” Heat washed my face. “For a minute, I thought you meant you were coming to New York.”
His black gaze met mine. “Are you inviting me?”
Longing jabbed me like a needle. I rolled my eyes. “Please. Even you don’t have that much time on your hands.”
I walked away, leaving him to trail me around the dance floor the way I used to tag after him and Jo.
So much had changed, I thought, with a queer tug of heart.
And so much remained the same.
Some guy loomed in front of me, cutting me off. I got a feeling like a spider crawling on the back of my neck. Davis Snow, older brother of Jenny Snow, meanest of the Mean Girls.
“Amy March. You’ve changed.” Davis looked me up and down, lingering on my now-developed breasts. “I hardly recognized you with your clothes on.”
I was aware of Trey behind me, making his way with unhurriedease through the wedding guests. But I didn’t need him to rescue me anymore.
“You’re right,” I said to Davis. “I have changed. Too bad you’re still an asshole.”
I moved around him to where Phee and her pal Wanda Crocker sat in a pair of straight-backed chairs like two elderly chaperones in a Regency novel.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” she demanded as I approached their table.
“I was looking for you.” I bent to kiss her Estée Lauder–perfumed cheek, ignoring a yap from Polly in her lap.
“Well, you’ve found me.”
I glanced at Wanda. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Would you like to dance, Miss Wanda?” Trey asked.
Her face lit.
“That was nice of him,” I said as he led her off.
“He’s a good boy,” Phee said. “I always thought one of you girls should have married him.”
“Excuse me?”
“You should think about it. Now that you’re home.”
“But I’m not,” I said, sinking into Wanda Crocker’s abandoned chair. “Home, I mean. I go back to New York tomorrow.”
“I suppose it will have to be Beth, then.” The old lady met my gaze, a gleam in her eye. “Jo thinks they’d be good together.”
Beth?AndTrey?
For a second, I imagined them as a couple. Trey would make Beth happy. Beth would give Trey the family he’d always wanted. It could work.
Except... I hated the idea.
“Beth already has a boyfriend,” I said. “And a career.”
Phee fed cheese to her dog. “Well, it’s too late for Meg to marry the boy. And now Jo’s lost her chance, too.”
“Aunt Phee! I thought you were happy Jo was with Eric.”
