“Engaged?” Sophie continued.
“Nope. I’m holding out.”For a man like the one who got away—straight into the arms of my sister.“There was someone once, though.”
“What happened?”
Dull pain settled under Velma’s ribs. “Turned out he was really into my sister.”
Sophie slumped against the wooden wall. “Do you think any of them are good?”
Velma’s mind drifted to Brek. “I think so.”
“What do I do?”
Velma was definitely not the one to be dishing out relationship advice. “Do you love Troy?”
“I thought I did. Now, I’m not sure.”
“When you have that thing that makes you want to be with someone, I think you act on it.” Velma brushed away a sticky thought of what that might mean for her in regard to Brek.
“But how do you know if you really love them?”
Velma shrugged, the knot in her stomach tightening. “I guess if you have to ask, then the question’s already answered.”
“I think I fell in love with the wedding.” A sliver of light traced its way across Sophie’s tear-stained face. “I spent months worrying what our guests would want to eat and drink, and I don’t even know how Troy likes his steak cooked.”
“What?”
Sophie’s chin trembled. “We’re having steak at the reception, and I’m supposed to marry a man when I don’t know how he likes his steak? What if he likes them well done, and I only like medium well?”
“Then I suppose you’d compromise,” Velma replied.
“What if I don’t want to compromise?” Sophie asked, her words serious.
“Then I guess your decision is made, you know?”
“Velma? Sophie?” Brek’s panicked voice sliced through the stifling air.
Velma leaned over the opening. “Up here. I found her.”
“I’m coming up,” Brek replied immediately.
“There’s no room.” Velma shook her head. “Give us a minute.”
“I’m ready. I know what I have to do.” Sophie stood as best as she could in the cramped quarters.
“We’re coming down.” Velma extended her hand to Sophie.
Sophie squeezed her hand. “Thank you for listening.”
“You go down first.” Velma helped Sophie adjust her dress so she could climb down the steps before gathering the shoes and the wine.
Sophie cleared the opening and Velma checked to ensure she made it down all right.
“On my way,” Velma hollered. She dropped the shoes. Bottle of wine gripped in one hand, she carefully stepped down the makeshift ladder.
Brek met her at the bottom and took the wine with raised eyebrows.
Velma shook pine needles from her sleeves. “Don’t ask.”
