Page 19 of Take Me to the Wedding

But I knew that if I said any of that, she’d flee as fast as she could though the streets of Oak Bluff. So I started with the issue at hand. “What you heard about me was gossip, not the truth.”

She sighed. “Stacey is always over the top.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I’m dishonest or a cheater,” I said. “I’m the same person I’ve always been.” I felt a sense of relief. This was what I wanted her to know.

“Well,” she said, “I believe that we can’t help but be different people now. I’m in a good place, Cay. I love my job. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. You were right when you called me out on being unhappy in Milwaukee. I was miserable. My dream was always to stay here and do this.”

I admired her honesty. “Lilly, we’ve both matured,” I said. “We’ve found ourselves. I’m really glad this wedding made our paths cross again.” I stopped an inch short of “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to try again,” but I was afraid to say it. So I let the words hang.

Too soon. It was too soon for me to play my hand. My palms got suddenly clammy, and sweat ran down my back. Did she believe that I wasn’t a cheater and a player?

She set down her cup.

What I’d said was the most nonthreatening language I could come up with. So much better thanI totally stalk you online, and I think that maybe I might still be in love with you. Or something that I can’t define.

She smiled a little. “I’m glad we were able to talk today. We were friends for so long. I didn’t like the way we left things.”

I didn’t want her to know that I’d been thinking about this ever since Ani had told me Lilly was going to be one of her bridesmaids. Would she be open to us trying again? Before I could overthink what she was saying, more words spilled out. “I had a job interview at the clinic,” I blurted.

Her fine brows lifted. “Oak Bluff Medical?”

“I met with Dr. Blumenthal a few weeks ago about a job in his practice. I should know whether or not I got it any time now.”

“Oh.”

I interpreted that as an interestedoh. As opposed to a disappointed or a shocked one.

“That’s exciting, Cay. I’m happy for you. I never imagined you’d come back to practice in a small town like Oak Bluff.” She took off the lid of her coffee and swirled it around. “Oh no. They put soy milk in my coffee again instead of oat milk.” She rose from her seat. “I’m going to get it fixed.” She looked up at me. “Will you wait?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” She left. The air surrounding her had a soft, feminine scent. She was still so beautiful. Since when did she start drinking something other than plain coffee with lots of cream and sugar? I smiled. What else would I discover about her that was different? I couldn’t wait to find out.

My phone chimed with a text. It was a video of my mom, dressed in a light purple satiny gown… with her arms flung out, dancing.

Wait.Dancing?My mother was doing the electric slide in a store?

Three dots were also dancing under the photo. “Your mom looks AH-MAZING in this dress, right??? If you’re nearby the thrift shop, plz stop by and tell her that! I think she should buy it! She needs some encouragement.”

I texted her back. “Reclaim?”

“YES!”

I rubbed my forehead and chuckled. My mom was the most ferocious bargain hunter this side of the Rockies. She called the Dollar Store the Treasure Trove. She didn’t ever pay full cost for, well… anything. Taking her to the thrift store was a stroke of genius.

Surviving cancer last year had been an ordeal for my mom—for all of us—but she’d come out of it more grateful and joyous about life than ever. She’d often said she wanted to refresh her wardrobe to reflect her new attitude, but she hated shopping alone.

But this took the joy thing to new heights. She’d trusted Sam to go with her. But enough to dothis?

Lilly returned and sat down again across from me. “The barista’s working on my drink. She said someone would bring it over.”

I took a bite of cinnamon roll and gestured for her to do the same. But she held up a hand and deferred.

“You go ahead.” She pushed her fork away. “I can’t eat like when I was a teenager.” That made me a little sad. The giant, gooey, sweet-smelling cinnamon roll we always used to share was a happy tradition. But maybe I was wrong to try to remind her of the past. Maybe I should focus on making new memories instead of reliving old ones. “I’m excited to go to the farm with everyone this weekend,” she said. “I hope we can catch up.” She reached her hand out across the table.

I took it, as I had many times before. Surveyed her smiling face. Did I hear birds singing along with a heavenly chorus of angels when she touched me? Not exactly. But I did feel good. Hopeful. She was sort of maybe giving me a chance. And she was smiling. Those were positive things, right?

“Hey,” I said. “My mom’s at Reclaim with Samantha. Have you met her yet?”

“No, but I’d love to. Mind if I go with you?”

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