Page 18 of When Love Is Unexpected

Please, please work, I pray silently.

"Oh, that's so romantic," Mom says. "I can't wait to meet her."

"You're going to love her," I say. "She's incredible. She's beautiful, smart, and funny. Her green eyes look into my soul every time she looks at me."

"Wow," Mom says. "I don't think I've ever heard you express yourself this way about anyone before, not even Patricia."

Patricia, my high school sweetheart, the woman who broke my heart and the reason I left San Diego.

When I hang up the phone, I consider that I left my hometown seven years ago because a woman rejected me and again a year ago because I knew I could never have the woman I wanted. It's a pattern with me. If they don't love me, I leave. I run away like a coward.

But I never returned to San Diego the way I've returned to Cold Spring. If I'm being completely honest with myself, I couldn't stay away. I missed Laila like I miss breathing. I had to see her again, so here I am, ready to embark on a path lined with deception. I don't know how to even begin, and worse yet, I don't have a clue as to how it will end.

When I call Emma, she gives me a list of things I need to do and puts me on a schedule to make sure everything gets done in time for her big day.

We make arrangements to have me fitted for a tuxedo at a local tailor and send my measurements to the tailor in San Diego, who graciously agreed to make my tux at what would be considered the eleventh hour.

"You're a size fourteen in shoes, right?"

"Fourteen and a half," I say.

"The men are all getting together on Monday to go golfing," she says, "You have to go."

"I'll be there," I say, knowing better than to remind her I hate golf.

"The wedding rehearsal is a week from tomorrow," she continues. "Do not miss it!"

"Okay," I say, knowing I should keep my input at a minimum.

"The bachelor party is Thursday," she says. "And the rehearsal dinner is Friday. Let me see if I'm forgetting anything."

"I think you've covered everything," I say.

"You'll need to give a toast," she says. "Please keep it simple and classy. Make it funny, but do not embarrass me."

"Yes, ma'am," I say.

I let out a chuckle because I realize I'm being micromanaged by my little sister.

When we're done going over the wedding plans, she switches gears and wants to talk about Laila.

"How did it happen?" she asks.

"I don't know," I say. "It just did."

"When did it happen?"

"The moment I laid eyes on her, she took my breath away."

"I thought you two were just friends," she says.

"We were just friends," I say. "Were being the operative word."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks. "I think it's strange that you never mentioned how you felt or that you two are together."

"Maybe I wanted to keep my private life private."

"Okay, well, we can't wait to meet her. She better be nice."

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