She’d be right if my life were a romance. But it’s not. Lately, it’s just a series of unfortunate events leading up to an overly complicated wedding. What do you call that kind of story?
“Ava, he doesn’t like me. He won’t even talk to me. And no wonder. I’ve been pushing him away since I got here. And now Leo’s here. And everything is complicated.”
“But here’s the question. Do you like Will? And I don’t want to hear any of your crap about not dating until college.”
I splay my fingers, palm up, in my lap. “Yes. I like him. But I’ve only known him for, like, what? Forty-eight hours?”
Her phone buzzes. An unknown number flashes. She lifts it where I can’t see and opens the text. Her eyes go wide. “Morgan Whitney, you’ve been holding out on me.”
“What?” I reach for the phone, but she jerks away. She starts reading the text aloud. “‘Hey, Ava. This is Emma. I know this is weird. Your future husband didn’t want to break the no-communication rule of the day, but he just had to share these photos with you. He found them in his glove box.’”
I slap a hand over my mouth. “Oh no,” I say behind my fingers. I can’t keep from smiling and blushing, so I try to hide both with my hands.
“Oh no, is right.” Ava sings out a laugh. She pushes to her feet next to the golf cart as if the news is too big to take sitting down. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
When she turns the phone around, I peek between my fingers. There on her screen is a photo of one of the Polaroids I hid in Hudson’s truck. The one of that amazing kiss. Will’s hand on my neck. His thumb brushing my jaw. My hand gripping his shirt. Our lips pressed together.
Another photo flashes onto the screen, and I lower my hands. This one, now that I look at it, may even be more intimate than the last. Our bodies are standing in the same position, but our lips have separated. Our faces are very close, and we’re staring at each other with an odd, dazed shock.
It wasn’t just me. That kiss surprised him too.
Ava must’ve seen the change in my face. She pulls the phone back and lets out a little yelp. “I ask again. Why didn’t you tell me aboutthis?”
“We agreed not to. We thought you’d make a big deal out of it.” I wave my hand up and down in front of her. “Like you are right now. They wouldn’t give us the ring until we kissed for the photo.”
She bounces on her toes. “Wow. This is too good. I guess that makes you a really good friend. To kiss someone you don’t even like to get my fiancé’s ring. But that’s not really the truth either, is it? It wasn’t someone you don’t like after all.”
She can’t stop smiling.
I groan and put my head in my hands. “Ava, what do I do?”
She jams a hand on her hip. “Well, you have to tell him how you feel, obviously.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WILL
I pull at my collar as I sit on a step outside the chapel. Hudson paces in front of me, wearing a charcoal suit, and he can’t seem to stop fidgeting with the white rose of his boutonnière.
It’s fifteen minutes until go-time.
He’s a ball of nerves. Apparently, the feeling’s catching.
“Dude. You’re making me nervous.” I shake out my jitters. “You good? You’re not thinking about running, are you?”
He slows and gives me a look. When I grin, he relaxes his shoulders, and the corners of his mouth turn up. “No. No way. Just nervous. Big moment and all.”
“Understandable. Everyonewillbe staring at you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
“No problem.” I lean back and peek through the cracked doorway. “Looks like it’s almost time.”
The other groomsmen are seating the last of the guests in the elegantly transformed sanctuary. The archway Morgan and I assembled is unrecognizable, adorned with white roses and an assortment of blue flowers that cascade down its sides. As guests file in, a string quartet plays soft music, lulling everyone into a peaceful calm—well, everyone except Hudson and me.
“You better get up in case Fran comes back and catches you sitting out here in that suit.”
“Nah, she won’t be back. They’re about to escort her to her seat.” But I stand up anyway. Just in case.
