I look at my remaining notes about expired mayo, bad math, a sick bull, and thirty years of unnecessary drama. But there’s something else I need to address. Something that’ll really set this town on fire.
I pull out my phone and text Dad.
Me: You ready to go public with Mrs. Delaney?
Dad: Do I have a choice?
Me: You always have a choice. But hiding is exhausting.
Dad: Speaking from experience?
Me: Speaking from three weeks of sneaking around with McCoys and pretending I didn’t care when I did.
Dad: That’s different.
Me: Is it though? You’re sneaking around with the town gossip. I was sneaking around with three cowboys. If anything, yours is worse. At least mine were age-appropriate.
Dad: She’s only five years older than me.
Me: I meant emotionally.
Dad: Very funny.
Three dots appear and disappear several times.
Dad: We’ll be there. Together.
Me: Good. Wear something nice. You’re about to be the second biggest scandal of the day.
Dad: Second?
Me: Trust me. My thing is bigger.
Dad: Your thing involves three McCoy boys.
Me: Your thing involves the woman who live-tweeted my cousin’s wedding disaster.
Dad: Fair point.
I go back to my notes, adding a new finale to my speech. “And speaking of ending feuds and choosing love over grudges, please direct your attention to Cedar Ridge’s newest couple...”
Rita bleats and knocks over my water glass, soakingeverything. My notes blur, what’s left of my index cards turn to mush, and my carefully highlighted evidence becomes a watercolor painting of disappointment.
“Perfect. Just perfect.”
But somehow it is perfect. The mess, the turmoil, the complete destruction of careful plans is exactly what this needs to be. Not polished or practiced. Just true.
My phone ringswhile I’m trying to salvage my notes with a hair dryer. It’s Wyatt, which is weird because Wyatt texts. He doesn’t call. Wyatt calling means something serious is happening or someone’s dead.
“Please tell me nobody’s dead.”
“What? No. Why would someone be—never mind. Jesse says you’re going nuclear at the festival.”
“Going nuclear is harsh. I prefer ‘assertively truthful’ or ‘therapeutically honest.’”
“Callie.”
“Wyatt.”
