He twists his blue-and-white bracelet around his wrist. Something from an admirer? “Nope. I feel like the outsider.”
“At least you know a lot of the family. I only know Fran.”
He makes a face and lets his hands drop to his sides. “She’s the worst.”
“She really is.”
He nods toward the group ahead. They haven’t even looked back to see if we’re here. “We’re like their annoying and forgettable younger siblings.”
“Maybe they’ll set up a kids’ table for us.”
One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Maybe. When do your parents arrive?”
“Tomorrow, probably just before the ceremony.” I stow my phone in my silver beaded clutch. “They’re supposed to let me know their plan this evening.”
We walk on in not-entirely-awkward silence until I spot our destination. “Oh, wow.”
The deep-green forest hugs the chapel as the sun dips. In the shadows, its white exterior isn’t quite as sharp. Soft golden light spills from gleaming windows.
“Yeah, and look at the pavilion.” He points. Lights along the ground lead a path between the chapel and the glowing pavilion where our hours of labor are apparent.
“It looks amazing.” I catch him staring at me.
He recovers, agreeing with my assessment. “Yeah. I heard their decorating crew is pretty good.”
“Will. Morgan. Keep up,” Fran calls from the doorway. “It’s time.”
We rush along, and she makes quick work of getting us to our starting positions. Emma takes candid photos of the rehearsal, including when we exit the sanctuary arm in arm after the first run-through.
“Ah, that’s a good one,” she says, looking at the screen on her camera.
Fran claps. “Not bad, but let’s run through it again. Places, everyone.”
Will groans, and I nudge him toward the other groomsmen.
We run through the ceremony two more times before Fran is satisfied. “That’s a wrap, everyone.” She beams. “Time to eat.”
Hudson and Ava lead the way down the lit path toward the pavilion where the caterer has set up for our arrival. The crew bustles in and out of a nearby hut serving as the kitchen.
Once again, I find myself walking alone, this time sandwiched between different groups of family and friends.
My phone chirps inside my clutch, and I pull it free, expecting a text from my parents. Then conflicting emotions roil me. It’s not from Mom.
Leo: I want to see you. Can we talk?
“Did your parents finally text?” Will sidles next to me.
I dim the screen and stow it away. Did he read it? “No, not yet.”
We continue, walking side by side, and my only thought should be that I don’t want to talk to Leo. And that’s part of what I’m feeling—my emotions are a chaotic mess when it comes to him. But it’s not my only thought.
I don’t want to care, but if Will had time to read that text, what did he think?
I start to fish for something to say, but Leo’s ringtone blares from my clutch. I slow to dig it out, but Will continues on.
I sigh. This confusion is a perfect reminder that I’ve sworn off dating until college.
I just need to keep my head on straight, get through this wedding, and stick to the plan. No dating. No weekend flings.
