Page 2 of The Secret to a Southern Wedding

Imani tried to glare at her friend but could only cover her full mouth and suppress a laugh. She chewed and swallowed hard. “Corn dogs, unlike a lot of men, don’t disappoint.”

“Chile, please. Everything disappoints eventually.”

“Corn dogs never disappoint.” Imani took another bite.

“Even microwaved ones?” Towanda asked.

Imani scrunched her nose and shivered. “Touché. Thanks for reminding me nothing in life is perfect.”

She’d once believed in perfection. That she’d had the best life ever. That reality had been shattered harshly and abruptly one fall afternoon.

Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of her white lab coat. She pulled it out and smiled when she saw the text icon from her mom.

“Who is it?” Towanda asked.

“My mom. She only texts with town news or a funny video she found online.”

Towanda grinned. “You still care about town news?”

Imani nodded and clicked on the text. “I mean, I don’t live in Peachtree Cove anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing what’s going on with all the judgmental people in town.”

“The people couldn’t be that bad.”

Imani grunted and didn’t answer. The same people who’d loved her parents together had been quick to talk about all their faults after her dad’s girlfriend decided to put a deadly plan in place to separate Imani’s parents for good. So, maybe it was petty, but Imani indulged in her mom’s texts about the trials and tribulations of the people so eager to cast judgment on her family all those years ago.

Imani opened the text, preparing for the funny video or latest update, but frowned at what looked like an invitation instead.

“Everything alright?”

Imani zoomed in on the invitation and nearly dropped her phone. She had to read the words out loud to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. “You’re invited to the wedding of Linda Kemp and Preston Dash. What the hell is this?”

Towanda leaned forward and tried to see Imani’s cell. “Your mom’s getting married?”

“No. She couldn’t be. My mom isn’t even dating.”

At least, her mom never talked about dating. Her mom hadn’t dated since the disaster that ended her last marriage. She hadn’t been able to trust anyone since. Not that Imani blamed her. Almost getting killed by your husband’s mistress tended to do that to a person.

“Who in the world is Preston Dash?” Imani muttered and why was her mom marrying him? In a month! This didn’t make sense. It had to be a prank. She called her mom immediately. The phone went straight to voice mail.

Imani stared at her cell phone. “Seriously?”

“She didn’t answer?”

“This has to be a joke,” Imani said. The watch on her arm vibrated. “Damn.” She pressed the button to stop the alarm reminding her that she needed to be back upstairs in the practice in time for her next patient appointment.

“You’re probably right,” Towanda said. “Your mom wouldn’t get married without telling you, would she?” The question in Towanda’s voice was the same question in Imani’s heart.

“My mom wouldn’t get married, period,” Imani said. She shoved the rest of the corn dog into her mouth and jumped up. She pointed toward the exit.

Towanda nodded. “I know. Go ahead. We’ll talk later. Let me know what your mom says.”

With her mouth full, Imani nodded and hurried out of the cafeteria. She shoved the bag of chips into the pocket of her lab coat and chewed the rest of the food in her mouth after dumping her trash into the can. On the way to the elevator, she texted her mom back.

This is a joke, right?

She watched her phone and waited for her mother’s response. There was nothing as she waited for the elevator. Nothing as she boarded with a group of people. Still nothing as she tried to avoid eye contact with the others as they slowly realized the face smiling back at them from the picture plastered on the elevator doors was her. In the background the throwback song “How Bizarre” by OMC, played from the speakers. Imani hummed along and watched her phone. The doors opened, thankfully, before everyone connected the dots between her and the life-size photo, and Imani quickly got off. Her phone finally buzzed as she approached the door to the practice.

No joke. Come home. We’ll talk.

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