I’d like to reassure her, but it won’t do any good.
She continues on, her words tumbling one after the other in a rush. “Next on my list today is place cards, and we’re behind on those, since the seating chart took so long.”
Again, I bite my tongue. I was present for some of the seating chart discussions. I got to watch my mom turn a pile of dust into Mt. Everest.This aunt can’t sit next to this cousin; this person’s going to be mad if they’re too far back in the room, etc., etc.
The whole thing made me relieved that I’m never getting married, and if I’m ever somehow dumb enough to change my mind, I’ll be sure to elope.
“Did you decide who you’ll be bringing to the wedding?” she asks. This question, that I knew was coming, is the reason I should have opted for the avoidant approach today.
Did I decide?She makes it sound like I have a row of suitors lined up, all vying to escort me to the ball.
“No, mom. I told you I don’t want to bring a date to the wedding. Besides, I’ll be busy fulfilling my maid of honor duties. I won’t have time to entertain a date.” I can’t contain my snarky tone, but Mom ignores it.
“Callie, you need to bring a date. I’ll check back with you in a few days.” That subject put on hold, she launches into a discussion about the handful of guests who have so rudely not yet RSVP’ed—her words, not mine. I listen patiently, even though none of it has anything to do with me.
After a few more updates and a run-through of her agenda for the rest of the day, she clicks off, and I slump back in my car seat. So much for relaxing during my break.
I’m so happy for my sister and want her wedding to be special, but I also can’t wait for it to be over. Mom is trying so hard to impress Adam’s family, and worrying so much about every detail being perfect, but the wedding should just be about Sadie and Adam’s love.
I frown as the thought crosses my mind. After what Rick did to me, how can I possibly have a romantic bone left in my body?
Later, after the dinner rush is winding down and my shift at Big Daddy’s is almost over, a recently-familiar face comes through the entrance. He’s dressed in cargo shorts, a t-shirt, and an open short-sleeve button down now, but his hair is still stylishly tousled, and his brown eyes catch my attention immediately.
He doesn’t notice me yet, and I’m sure he won’t be pleased when he does. Unless he somehow tracked me down to tell me what a crap yoga teacher I am.
After studying the menu board for a full minute, he finally approaches the counter. I brace myself, prepared for, at the very least, his resting grump face, but instead, he greets me with an easy smile and a friendly, “Hello.”
“Hi…” I’m waiting for some kind of reaction, but I get none.
“It’s my first time in. What do you recommend?”
Dumbfounded by both his lack of recognition and his suddenly pleasant persona, I stare back at him, frowning.
“I could eat just about anything. I’m starving today.”
Part of me is puzzled by his friendly demeanor and how talkative he suddenly is; the other part of me is annoyed and a little hurt that he doesn’t recognize me. Sure, I’m wearing a navy blue Big Daddy polo shirt instead of yoga clothing, but my hair is the same as it was in class this morning, and last I checked, I have the same face that I had twelve hours ago.
I caught this man checking me out several times during class, but maybe his eyes didn’t make it beyond my chest often enough to form a memory.
It’s also possible he does recognize me and is intentionally pretending he doesn’t to save his ego, but I don’t think that’s the case.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?”
He lifts his brows, then tilts his head like an adorable cocker spaniel and rubs the back of his neck. “Umm…”
“Yoga class this morning.”
His lips curve into a warm grin. “That’s right. Sorry, I must have been distracted.”
There’s still no sign of the grunting caveman from earlier. Is it possible that he’s just not a morning person? Maybe, like me before my iced coffee, he was half asleep.
“I’m really sorry for what happened in class,” I say. “I should have realized you were off balance.”
Little lines crinkle the corners of his eyes. “Aww, it’s okay. No problem at all. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Well, thank you, I appreciate you saying so. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll take a yoga class again?”
Now the man ducks his head, his eyes fixed on me from beneath his dark brows. His teeth briefly capture his bottom lip as his gaze dips downward. “I’d say there’s a good chance, as long asyou’llbe there.”
