Page 119 of Perfect Playbook

I could tell her how caring she is. I could say she’s talented. She’s a good mother and sister, and I find her family values admirable. She asks this questionnow because when we leave, her insecurities will all flood back in. Over time, they’ll fade.

“I love that you don’t let me get away with anything. You’re a tough-ass woman who’s hard to please.”

“You love that I’m hard to please?”

“I do. It makes me better.”

She pulls my hand up to her mouth and kisses it. She sighs, and the room stills for the first time since I arrived in it. But she has a few more words, ones I’ll remember for a lifetime.

“I don’t know much about love,” she says. “But I’m pretty sure the best kind is the one that makes you a better person, without ever changing you into someone other than yourself.”

Chapter Forty

SIX MONTHS LATER

Over the months that followed,Logan was more determined than ever to stay fit and get rest in light of his retirement.

It helped me not miss him so much to throw myself into work, and come the new year, I booked in and had meetings with over thirty potential couples all able to get a cake in my new Shino Cakes price range. Of course, I still gave friends and family discounts to anyone in Starlight Canyon.

Funnily enough, none of these high-end, well-to-do brides had such bridezilla tendencies as my very ownfather.

The good thing about Logan not being around is it gave time for Dad to plan that wedding reception he promised and for family from Mexico to get visas. Because my dad insisted upon paying for everything from his own coffers, it would be a humble reception, but when I walked in the marquee he rented and had placed to the side of our home on the scrubby patch of land where nothing ever grew, I couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

If I were to have gotten married, this is exactly how I thought it would be.

Not Vegas.

Not something grand in a fancy hotel.

I imagined a marquee to the side of my childhood home, decorated by my dad and some ranch hands with a cake by my mom. My uncle’s mariachi band would play, and some Canyon high school kid with dreams of making it in New York would DJ later in the night. That was what I thought might happen, and this is close enough to make my heart stutter and my eyes mist over.

The space is simple and festive. It’s funny how things just feel right. Logan belongs in this dream as much as the rest. He might wear flashy clothes and have his shoes shined the old-fashioned way, but he’s a simple country boy underneath it all. He’s the small town’s teenage crush. He’s the best first date that didn’t cost a dime, just staring at a river, talking. He’s home grown, as I am, and I just know he’ll love this marquee.

Waves of reminiscence overcome me, and I start to choke up.

But my old man bridezilla interrupts with another second-guess. Or is it his third? Or fourth? I don’t know, the man lost his ability to make decisions when he started planning his daughter’s wedding reception.

“I’m not sure there are enough decorations up. This marquee is huge. It looks empty.”

“It’s perfect, Dad. Remember I told you bodies will be in here, too. They’ll make the space full. Stop worrying. Logan and I don’t need anything lavish anyway.”

His lips form a thin line. “And the cake? Maybe…”

I shoot him a daring gaze. “Don’t go there with the cake. I take no requests or criticism. It’smycake. It will be perfect.”

He pulls an imaginary zipper across his lips.

I wrap my arm around him. “Did you ever think you’d be able to get rid of me?”

It was meant to be a joke, but my comment sends instant tears to my dad’s eyes. His sentimental words are garbled through a tight throat. “Mija… I wish your mom could see how wonderful you have become. To meet Nino. To see you in white…” His worn workman’s hands wipe tears from his sun-kissed cheeks.

My eyes sting, and I give my dad a big hug. “Me, too.”

He clears his throat. “She would have approved. She always thought the Hunters were good people.”

I laugh lightly at a memory bubbling up. “Once, at a bake sale, Logan bought one of my brownies, and she pointed at him. She said, ‘He’s going to be very handsome one day.’”

My dad chuckles. “He’s a good man.”

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