I don’t budge.
“All I’m saying is talk to her while you’ve got the chance. See where it goes. Maybe nowhere. Maybe somewhere. And a word of advice, give her a real apology for the ICEE incident, and especially the”—he pitches his voice low—“psycho comment.”
Sitting alone, Morgan pleats the edge of the tablecloth. He’s right, of course. My feeble whispered apology at dinner last night wasn’t worth much. And I didn’t even mean it. Before I have a chance to decide if I’ll go over there, Fran swoops in and takes the seat next to Morgan, chattering away.
The three of us stare in their direction. Hudson groans.
I rock back on my heels. “Great. She’s probably giving Morgan more to do.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.” Hudson winks. Before I can ask what he means, he strides off.
“What’s he going to do?” I ask Emma.
“No idea.”
He approaches his fiancée and whispers in her ear. Ava nods, and a too-happy smile appears on her face.
“Oh no,” I mutter.
They step onto the small stage at the front of the pavilion.
“Attention, everyone!” Ava announces.
I have the sudden urge to bolt. What’s she about to say?
The guitar music halts, the crowd quiets, and Morgan and Fran turn in their seats.
I edge a step backward.
“We weren’t planning to do this tonight, but Hudson and I have decided we should practice our first dance for the reception tomorrow.”
I pause my retreat.
“If you can, we’d love for you to join in. Here’s how it will go. We’ll start it off, and after a minute or so, our parents and the bridal party should pair off and join us. Then, for the second song, everyone else should join in. Sound okay?”
With a buzz of agreement and excitement, people shuffle around the room.
Hudson leads Ava onto the dance floor and gives me a pointed glare when I’m slow to move from my spot. I try not to roll my eyes at his obvious matchmaking.
“Will,” he calls out, “you’ll be with Morgan.”
Emma and I groan in unison. “Did no one teach you guys the art of subtlety?”
She giggles. “Well, heisFran’s future son-in-law. Now get over there before I call you a baby again.”
I shake my head and approach Morgan. Fran is talking again.
“Hey.” I try to sound casual, interrupting.
“Hi,” Morgan replies, her deep-brown eyes reflecting my nervous image.
“Sorry, Mrs. Thompson. But I need to steal Morgan away.”
“Oh, very well.” She stands, craning her neck over the crowd. “I need to find my husband. We’ve been practicing!”
Relief floods Morgan’s features as Fran retreats, heels click-clacking across the room.
I shuffle my feet. “Sounds like we’re dance partners.”Really, Will?
