I send Leo’s phone call to voicemail.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WILL
I shuffle my feet and shove my hands in the pockets of my dress pants. Across the pavilion, Morgan’s sitting alone at our table—not the kids’ table, after all. Her purple dress flows to the floor, and the twinkle lights bathe her in a soft glow. Other guests chat and laugh, mingling to the gentle acoustic guitar chords, but Morgan traces the condensation on her lemonade glass, a deep crease between her brows. Man, even in her melancholy state, she’s stunning.
She’d been quiet during dinner, and it probably has everything to do with that phone call. I didn’t intend to see a text from her ex, but I did. And I recognized his stupid love-song ringtone.
Why hasn’t she changed it by now?
“Will, do you think your parents should join the boat club?”
I return my attention to my uncle Charlie. “Sure. That would be fun.”
He nods to Dad. “See? Your kids would love it. Worth every penny in the summertime.”
I’ve been standing with Dad and Mema, listening to Uncle Charlie drone on—well,halflistening. Most of my brainpower seems to be routed toward keeping my chin from swiveling in Morgan’s direction. Not even the coveted boat club can claim my attention.
Everything feels different since that kiss, but while my heart and eyes linger on her lips, my head knows better. My brain has entered full-on self-preservation mode. Run the other way, it said. And so I did.
As soon as the meal ended, I left the table, mumbling some excuse about needing to talk to Mema. Emma sat between Morgan and me at dinner, and while we both chatted with Emma, Morgan and I barely said two words to each other the entire meal. Still, I have to keep reminding myself of all the reasons not to walk over there and see if she’s okay.
One—she’s a setup. Those never work.
Two—she lives far away and is in high school. I’m two months beyond that. Way too old for her.
Three—she doesn’t even like me and is pining over that other guy. Leo or whatever.
I’ve never met the guy, but do know he broke her heart, so I’m not a fan.
Yeah. That’s why I’m reacting this way. I’m protective of my new friend. And it’s why I hate that he wants to reconnect.
Riiight.
I did what I had to do. I have feelings I don’t want to have about a girl who is probably getting back with her ex. Self-preservation.
Morgan glances up, and I avert my gaze, pretending to be interested in Uncle Charlie’s boat story. Is hestilltalking about that? Did she catch my staring?
Eventually, our group scatters, and I’m left standing alone on the edge of the festivities.
“You look lost over here.” Hudson saunters over, his signature grin in place.
Emma follows, using her camera to boss everyone around. “Smile, you two.”
I fake one, and she snaps a photo.
“What are you doing over here by yourself?” Hudson leans against a support beam.
“Just thinking,” I mutter.
“About a certain bridesmaid, perhaps?” Emma frames another shot.
“What?” Why is everyone so nosy? I shove my rolled sleeves up my forearms. “No. Of course not.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
Emma snaps a photo of Morgan’s stoic expression. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”
