Fran smooths the crumpled paper on her slender thigh. “Let’s get back to business, ladies. One final push. I need all hands on deck. Morgan, fetch your phone. Tonya, double-check that everything is in order at the pavilion.”
She runs a finger down the list and assigns various tasks.
“Unbelievable,” I whisper to Ava. “I thought you had something you needed to do.”
“Hey, at least now you have his number.” She winks and gives my back a push. “You heard the woman. Fetch your phone!”
I roll my eyes, leaving her on the step, and grab my phone from the coffee table. Sure enough, there’s Will’s number. An army of butterflies takes flight in my stomach. He won’t answer. No one answers unknown numbers. I put his contact information in my phone and call anyway.
After three rings, I’m about to hang up when I hear, “Hello.”
I gasp, momentarily stunned.
“Morgan?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you to answer. Wait. How did you know it was me?”
“Um, Hudson put it in my phone earlier.”
Right. The matchmakers.
“What’s up?” He rushes on, his voice clipped. “Do you need something?”
I tell him about the photographer and my idea. “We’re hoping either Emma’s with you or you have her number so you can ask her.”
“Sure. I have it.” All business. “I haven’t seen her in a few hours because her sisters arrived. But I’ll text her now.”
From the door, Fran is waving at me. “Come on. You can join Ava and me at the chapel to meet the florist.”
“Fran?” Will says.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath and follow the mother of the bride out the door. “It sounds like we’re going to the chapel if Emma wants to meet us there.”
“All right. I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks, Will.”
“Yep.” The call ends as if he couldn’t wait to cut me off.
I can’t blame him.
Fran, Ava, and I load into the golf cart. Fran drives while Ava and I sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the back seat. At first, Ava leans forward, chattering about the wedding details with her mom, but eventually, she scoots back and gives me a wicked grin. “So…what did Will say?”
“He said he’d ask Emma.”
“Of course he did. Did he say anything else? Anything more interesting?”
I cross my arms. “No.”
Her eyes twinkle. “Too bad.”
Yeah. Too bad.
The florist is already unloading, so we pitch in to help. I carry a lovely arrangement of white roses accented with two types of smaller blue flowers that Ava explains are called delphinium and forget-me-nots.
