I sigh. “As sweet as that is, I can’t leave. I—”
“Can. You can leave.”
I turn to find my father walking slowly toward us, leaning on his cane for support.
“Dad.” I rush to this side. “What are you doing up?”
He waves me away. “I’m fine. Been walking on my own for longer than you’ve been alive.”
“But that wasbeforethe heart attack, remember?”
“Did you say fart attack?”
I scowl at him. “Dad.”
“Summer.”
We stare at each other in a heated standoff.
He’s the one to cave first.
“Just like Ezra talked to Odette, I also talked to Ezra. That’s why he’s here. He’s taking you to the wedding because I want you to go. Ineedyou to go. I love you to death, but I need a few minutes alone. You’ve been up my ass—which I appreciate, by the way—since the surgery, and sometimes a man just needs a minute to breathe, you know? So go. Go to the wedding. Have fun. Take the night off. Get wasted.” He gives Ezra a look. “But no drinking and driving.”
Ezra holds his hands up innocently. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
“Good.” Dad looks at me again. “Please, Summer. Do this for me, will you? We need someone there to represent the family. Might as well be you. I don’t know if you remember this, but I did just have a heart attack. I’m not much in the mood for dancing.”
He winks at me, and I want to scream and cry and throw my arms around his neck and tell him how much I love him.
Instead, I settle for a peck on the cheek. “All right. I’ll go. I just ... shit,” I mutter. “I was going to curl my hair and wear a dress and ... and ... I don’t have time. The wedding starts soon.”
“You have time,” Ezra says. “And I’ll help.”
“What? How are you going to help?”
“I don’t know?” He shrugs. “I’ll ... I’ll ... I’ll curl your hair while you do your makeup.”
I lift my brows. “You know how to curl hair?”
“No, but it can’t be that hard to figure out, right?”
My dad whistles lowly. “Oh boy. Don’t know what you got yourself into with that one.” He points to the recliner with his cane. “I’ll just be over here.”
Ezra curling my hair sounds so ridiculous that I have to see it.
“Fine,” I relent. “Follow me.”
He closes the front door behind him, and I notice he leaves a wide berth behind me as we make our way farther into the house.
I tell myself it’s for the best, even though it doesn’tfeellike it is.
I grab my makeup kit and curling iron from under the sink and take them both to the vanity in my bedroom.
I usually just wear lipstick and maybe a few swipes of mascara if I’m feeling it, but a wedding definitely calls for a full face.
I plug the curling iron in and let it heat up. Then I settle onto the stool in front of the mirror.
Ezra sits on my bed, looking comically big, and I begin my routine, pretending he isn’t there as I spritz my hair with heat protector.
