“I do. It’s my biggest concern. I haven’t figured out how to make this make sense to her, but whatever I say…”
“We’ll work it out.” He nods. “I don’t want to lie to her either.”
“Thank you.” I exhale a deep breath. We’ll pause and collect ourselves while I settle a bit. We just need a plan before I pick Phoebe up in a couple of hours. “So... do you have a date in mind?”
“You free Thursday morning?”
That’s only two days away.
I laugh. “Thanksgiving? Really?”
Two days isn’t enough time. It’s a free-fall.
“We open the day after. Life’s about to get crazy around here. And the first payment date is December 15th, so why drag our feet?”
He’s got a point, but I just thought I’d have a bit longer to wrap my brain the rest of the way around this.
“Do y’all not celebrate?”
Phoebe and I haven’t in years, honestly. With only two of us, cooking feels pointless. We watch the parade, and we eat, but it’s far from traditional.
“We usually pick up food from town. Mostly, we use the day to make sure opening day will run smoothly.”
“I guess Thursday it is, then.”
“Plus side: extra hard to forget our anniversary if it’s on Thanksgiving,” he jokes, his tension mostly gone.
“You know Thanksgiving moves, right?”
“I’m joking.” He grins and squeezes our joined hands. “I could call in some favors in case they don’t normally do courthouse weddings on holidays.”
“Abby actually called Harper to see what she could pull together.”
“And?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I told her she wasn’t allowed to make plans until I knew details.”
“Now you know the details.” He offers a small smile. “If you want to set something like that up, I’m great with it. You deserve something special—this is a big deal.”
He’s right, even if I keep trying to convince myself it’s not. By this time Thursday, I’ll be Mrs. Aiden Wheeler.
Once upon a time, it’s all I dreamed of—a perfect barn wedding in the place where he first kissed me, a brood of little Wheeler babies under these rafters. We were young, and I knew, even then, that it’s rare to love someone wholly.
I never imagined it would be the thing that ripped us apart.
Yet here we are: planning an impromptu wedding. My heart hammers, reminding me how dangerous this all is. One look at the focus in his eyes, the flutter in my belly, and it’s easier to ignore the alarms.
It’s only a year.
“Can you let me know where we’re sleeping? So I can start putting things away.”
“We’ve already started on Phoebe’s room,” he says immediately. “And we can go get more from your place, if there’s more to grab. You’re not doing this alone.”
Not alone.
My chest tightens before I can stop it.
They’ve already started on a room for Phoebe. He was already prioritizing my needs before I even stated them. I don’t know what to do with that.
