He wasn’t wrong. Leaving was easier in a lot of ways, but it was something I’d never even thought about doing. Not when Momma got sick, not when my aunt shoved me into a beauty pageant, not when Savilla needed to know she had a sister. These were the moments that one had to rise to the occasion.
I would’ve never expected Anton to be the kind who would do a woman dirty like that— skipping town without a glance behind. It made me suddenly nervous for my friend.
“I’ve learned a lot since then,” he said, trying to reassure me. “But my past is my past. Either way, I didn’t invite Bella this weekend. I swear.”
Despite my frustration with Anton, I believed him. If he hadn’t even wanted to break things off with Bella in person, he certainly wouldn’t have wanted her celebrating his nuptials.
“Is this why you didn’t want the rest of your family arriving until tomorrow? Did you think something like this might happen?”
“Notthis.” He sighed. “Neverthis. My mother can be overbearing, but I never thought she would interfere to this extent.”
“She doesn’t want you marrying Lacy,” I said as directly as possible, mainly because in less than forty-eight hours he was supposed to marry my friend and I did not want her heart broken by him or his mother—or anyone else. “How are you going to address that?”
Anton swallowed and lifted his head, trying to find his courage. “I’ll talk to her.”
“To your mother? To Bella? To Lacy?”
He nodded fervently. “All of them.”
“And what will you say?”
“I’ll tell my mother that I love Lacy and she needs tostand down.”
I raised an eyebrow and lifted my chin, prodding him to continue.
He swallowed hard. “I’ll tell Bella that I’m sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to end things face-to-face.”
“She deserved closure,” I said, feeling very much like some kind of life coach that I had no desire to be.
“She did,” he nodded. “That’s what I’ll say.”
“And Lacy?”
To his credit, Anton’s face softened at her name. “I’ll tell her that she’s the only person I’ve ever felt this way about. That when I imagine myself at eighty years old, I see the two of us sitting on a porch swing and watching our grandchildren play in the yard, the mountains hovering behind us.”
That answer sounded like a good one, but it wasn’t me he had to appease.
At that moment, I heard a step behind us. It was Lacy, her face mottled as if she’d been crying.
“Savilla released me so I could find you two,” Lacy said. Her eyes brightened when she looked at Anton, who rushed forward and scooped her into his arms.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed into her. “I had no idea that my mother would be so…” He seemed unable to finish the sentence, which made sense when there was really no good way to describe how his mother had behaved up to that point.
Lacy and Anton held each other for a full minute, and I wondered if I should head back to the Carriage House.
Just as I was about to turn around and leave the two of them to talk, Lacy pulled back and wiped at her eyes, addressing Anton. “If you promise me that you had no idea what your mother was up to, I’ll believe you,” she said, more generous than I might’ve been under the same circumstances. It was a credit to how much she loved Anton, I was sure.
“I swear, Lacy, I had no idea my mother was dragging along almost my entire family two days early—much less inviting extra ladies to the bachelorette party,” Anton said, staring into her eyes. “And I swear I’ll take care of everything so she won’t interfere anymore.” He hesitated. “I didn’t invite Bella either, so I can talk to her, ask her to leave.”
Lacy bit her lip and studied her fiancé. “No,” she decided. “If you tell me that you didn’t invite her—and that you don’t have any lingering feelings for her—then I’ll believe you. She seems off-putting, but I don’t think it’s Bella who’s pushing herself on to you.”
The implication was that any pushing was coming from his mother, which seemed accurate.
“I love you,” Anton said quietly, his forehead pressed against Lacy’s. “Only you.”
As they shared a quiet moment I scooted back to give them privacy, catching a flash pass by in my periphery, a quick shadow that flittered away as fast as it had come.
I stepped toward the darkness, a tingle running up my arms to my neck. Someone had been at the edge of the corridor, listening to us.
