Page 27 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

Imani shrugged. “I’d forgotten about it until just now, too. Maybe we should try to find it.”

Tracey frowned and quickly shook her head. “Girl, there’s a whole gazebo in that area of the peach fields. We are not about to go digging for our old vows in the middle of my best wedding spot. Besides, I don’t think I want to remember my teenage dreams. Reality might not live up to them.” She took a long sip of her beer.

Halle raised her glass. “Amen to that.” She took a swig then stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tracey said.

“I’ll watch your bags until you’re back,” Imani volunteered. She took another sip of the strawberry ale after they walked away and sighed. Tracey was probably right. She didn’t need to see those teenage dreams again. Back then she’d hoped to become a doctor who made a difference and changed the world. In fact, she was just another cog in the corporate hospital wheel. She could only go so far and do so much before the administration pushed back. She was doctor of the year, but felt stifled. Lauded for being a part of the team while also expected to sit quietly and be happy with the title. Was she really thriving or had she just checked the appropriate buttons for a comfortable, boring, life?

Imani shook her head then drained her glass. She was supposed to be here having a good time. Not questioning her path in life. She slammed the empty glass against the bar then cringed at the loud clack. When she looked up, her eyes met Cyril’s. He had that delicious smile that made her heart skip a beat.

Feel safe enough to fall in love.

The one vow she’d put on that buried sheet of paper years ago that she’d never forgotten whispered in the back of her head.

She looked away quickly. Tracey was right. Dreams from the past belonged in the past. She was a doctor, and corporate cog or not, she was making a difference in the lives of every patient she helped. Maybe she’d foolishly hoped she could fall in love after what happened between her parents, but she was enough of a realist to understand she never would. Her dad’s mistress hadn’t succeeded in killing her mom, but she had killed any part of Imani that believed in happily-ever-after. No matter how much her body wanted Cyril, her heart would never trust him. Trust came with vulnerability, and she could never open herself up to the kind of hurt her dad put her mom through. Her goal coming home wasn’t to bring back the secret hopes of the girl she once was. Her number one goal was, and would remain to be, to ruin Cyril’s plans to see their parents get married.

eleven

As soon as Cyril pulled up at the Sweet Treats bakery and saw Imani standing outside talking on her cell phone he knew he’d been set up. His dad had called and pushed him to hurry up and help him, Ms. Kemp and Imani sample cakes for the wedding.

“I don’t know anything about cakes. Just get what Ms. Kemp likes and call it a day,” he’d said.

“This isn’t just about picking a cake. It’s getting to know Imani. Now tell Joshua to handle setup at the bar and get over here,” his dad had prodded.

“You do realize Joshua is my business partner and not an employee I can order around, right?”

Preston only grunted. “He also said he’d help with the wedding in any way. This is him helping. Now get your butt over here, son.”

Cyril turned off his car and scanned the small parking lot. Not that he needed to. Neither his dad’s vehicle nor Ms. Kemp’s sat in front of the small blue building that housed one of Peachtree Cove’s oldest bakeries. They were being urged to play nice again. Not a problem if he could remember that the only relationship he should have with Imani should focus on convincing her to go along with their parents’ wedding and not getting lost in thoughts of what a relationship between them could look like.

She threw up a hand as he approached. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes before she spoke into the phone. “Hey, Towanda, I’ve got to go. I’ll be sure to remote into the board meeting. Thanks for the heads-up.” She listened for a few more seconds before nodding and ending the call.

“Everything okay?” Cyril asked.

She lifted a shoulder and slid her phone into the side pocket of the burgundy hooded dress she wore that reminded him of an oversized T-shirt. Beneath the dress she wore dark leggings and sneakers. “Yeah. Work stuff, but I’m good.” She looked at Cyril, disappointment in her eyes.

“Is it one of your patients?” he asked.

She frowned up at him. “Huh?”

“You look upset. Is something wrong with one of your patients? Your mom mentioned you’re a doctor.”

Her face cleared and she shook her head. “No. The other doctors in the office are seeing my patients while I’m out. That was one of my friends. She said the word is getting around that the hospital administrators aren’t happy I took off so quickly. Family emergency or not.”

He didn’t bother asking why she’d said a wedding was an emergency. He already knew the reason. “Are they usually upset when people have family issues?”

“I’d like to say no, but that would be a lie. They’re not as bad as some places, but they’re only flexible to an extent. For me, they’re very upset because they can’t prop me up in front of news cameras to make them look better.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I’m their doctor of the year.” The way she said the words, in a mocking tone while making air quotes with her fingers, surprised him.

“You aren’t happy about that? I would think that’s a great thing.”

“Maybe, if it wasn’t a PR stunt.” She crossed her arms before continuing. “The staff has complained about the lack of diversity among the administration after a recent merger. Some of the complaints got out to the media which made some patients at the various medical offices complain about discriminatory practices of some of the staff. Right as that happened, bam, I’m announced the doctor of the year and they’re putting my face up everywhere.”

He shrugged. “So what’s the problem?”

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