“Leo.” At least, I manage not to spit the word out like a curse.
“Ah,” says Ava unhelpfully.
Hudson crosses his arms. “Maybe you should go after her and—”
I hold up a hand. “Stop. Please. I’m fine. It’s not a big deal. In fact, this is how it should be, just as I told you.” I give a careless chuckle. “Setups never work.”
Hudson starts to say something else, but Ava grips his arm. He closes his mouth. She lowers to the pavilion’s edge, unbuckles her sandals, and wiggles her toes. “We won’t pester you anymore. Just know, Leo was always going to keep calling and texting. Morgan needed to hash it out with him. She could’ve picked a better time to do it, but her retreat wasn’t about you.” She shrugs and stands, her shoes dangling from her fingers. “Now, let’s forget about that. Who’s ready to get to work?”
I’m thankful for the subject change, though Morgan’s anger over those stupid cookieswasabout me.
The music has stopped, signaling the end of the rehearsal, and the guests are dispersing. It’s time to get this whole wedding business done and go home. I slap my hands together. “What still needs to be done? Put me to work.”
Grimacing, Ava pulls the list from her clutch. “Well, we need to string up the rest of the lights. The boxes are at Evelyn’s place.” She sets her shoes in a chair. “We also need to rearrange the tables. The caterers cleaned up pretty well, but we’d better give it a once-over. And we also need to arrange the tables at The Meeting House for brunch tomorrow.”
I loosen my collar. “How about I take the golf cart and get the lights?”
Hudson nods. “I’ll grab the ladder.”
“Emma.” Ava unclasps her gold bracelet and places it by her shoes. “Want to help me move these tables?”
“Sure.”
We head off in opposite directions. Most of the older adults have made themselves scarce.
I jump from the concrete slab onto the grass and jog to the golf cart. I don’t notice Morgan until I’m driving away. She’s sitting on a step near the dock, deep in conversation on her phone. I tear my gaze from her where her long flowing dress cascades over her legs and loose tendrils from her bun sway in the breeze.
Sure, she’s attractive and sweet and funny. But that doesn’t mean it’s meant to be. I may have let my meddling cousins talk me into thinking about the possibilities, but look where that got me—left standing on the dance floor like an idiot as the beautiful girl strolls away to talk to another guy.
I drive up the dark hill. Moonlight glints across the lake’s surface. Just another twenty-four hours. Back home tomorrow night, I can reconnect with the guys and find out about the rest of the trip. Pack my room for college.
So why can’t I keep from wondering how Morgan’s conversation is going? Is she telling him to stop calling? Or…not?
Let it go, Will. Let it go.
When I return with a box of lights, Ava, Morgan, and some of the bridesmaids have gone to The Meeting House. The rest of us will finish the pavilion.
We’re about to turn in for the day when Fran returns, waving her arms as she clicks her heels up the steps. “Boys. Boys. I have the best idea.”
“Oh?” A wary tilt deepens Hudson’s voice.
“I’d like all of you to join us for the bridal brunch. Not to eat, of course, but you can be our servers.” She claps. “It will make it so special for the girls to be waited on by you all. Oh, but not you, Hudson. You can’t see the bride tomorrow until the wedding!”
I don’t say anything, but a general grumble of assent rumbles around me.
“Wonderful. We’ll see you at nine thirty at The Meeting House. The ladies arrive at ten. Don’t forget to wear a suit and tie!”
And with that, she saunters away.
“I was hoping to sleep until noon tomorrow,” someone whispers.
My thoughts exactly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WILL
I trail the other groomsmen on our short trek up the boardwalk to brunch. I’m already pulling at my collar, my tie choking me. At least it’s a beautiful day. And the last day of this wedding fiasco. No matter what happens, all will be done tonight.
