Page 26 of Take Me to the Wedding

“I-I’m not sure what you mean.” Let loose this weekend down on the farm? Definitely not with Quinn. What other choices did I have? Mia would be with Brax, Caleb would be hanging out with Lilly, and I would have my friend Gabe, the officiant, who was gay and engaged. I didn’t understand what she was getting at.

“You need the chance to act young,” Beth said. “There’s plenty of time to act old and mature.” Before I could ask how to go about doing that, she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Now that I’ve given you advice, you must call me Beth.” Then she waved to her son, who had gotten out of the truck and took the front steps in two bounds. He looked hopeful and energized, probably from being with his lady love.

His glance bounced between both me and his mom before he gave her a puzzled look. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

“Just discussing last night’s score,” I said dryly.

He patted me on the arm. “Don’t cry. The Brewers will pull it off next time.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Actually, I was just telling Sam how wonderful she is,” Beth said cheerily.

Thatwasn’t awkward. With a shrug, he pecked his mother on the cheek. “Oh. Well, okay then,” he said. “Bye, Ma. Thanks for everything and see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Okay, honey. Bye.” As she hugged him, she gave me a wink.

“Bye, Beth,” I said with a wave. “Thanks for everything.”

Was she telling me that I’d become old before my time? And what did that even mean, follow my heart? I’d always had to act mature. I’d had to put my responsibilities first. If not, what would happen to Wynn?

ChapterNine

Samantha

I slid into the back seat of the Tacoma to find an earnest-looking guy sitting across from me in the not-large-enough space. Was I paranoid? Yes, but I couldn’t help it. My instincts, aided by what Beth had told me about Quinn, had made me nervous.

He was good-looking, with short, close-cropped light brown hair and a Hollywood-worthy jawline. Yet he looked very apple-pie compared to Caleb’s darker, more dangerous looks. “Hey there,” he said, extending his hand. “Name’s Quinn. Quinn Carlson. I went to med school with Tyler.” He broke out into a huge smile.

He was obviously friendly, unlike some people I knew. Caleb turned his head, and I caught his eye in the mirror. I made sure to smile widely right back as I shook Quinn’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Sam.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said. “I’m from Milwaukee too. And I have a younger brother the same age as your sister. Actually, I have three of them. Oh, and I’m a huge Brewers fan.”

“Oh, that’s so funny,” Lilly said, turning around. She looked fresh and put together this morning, from what I could see, in a crisply ironed denim shirt and gold hoops. Her lipstick was red and perfect, her hair styled in long pipe-curl waves, the kind that women pay big bucks for.

Did I even remember to put on ChapStick? And also, my thick, straight hair held curl for about thirty seconds, no matter what I did or how many products I used.

I don’t know why I was comparing myself to Lilly. She certainly wasn’t a threat to me in any way. Although I was firmly anti-love for myself, I still wanted to be the person the D’Angelos thought I was—a kind person. No matter what I thought of their son, I didn’t wish bad things on anyone. It made me even more determined to make things right.

That meant that if I had to reach deep to find something positive to say about Caleb, by gosh, I was going to. “So, Lilly, Caleb tells me you own a floral shop?” I leaned forward while I asked, mainly so I could get out of the path of Quinn’s stare, which seemed a little intense.

“My family’s,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “but the plan is that when they retire, I’ll own it.”

She seemed nice. I know that Beth’s view was colored by what had happened between her and Caleb, but I decided to keep an open mind.

“I also have a side business painting flowers,” she added. “I sell my framed artwork in my shop.”

“You’re too humble,” Caleb said, admiration radiating in his voice. “Lilly’s paintings are going to be exhibited in a show at the state capitol building in Madison next month.”

Wow. She was talented—running a business and with an artistic streak that spread beyond floral design to painting. She was also adorable—bubbly, petite, with tiny feet like Cinderella, whereas mine were more Prince Charming-sized. I was reminded of the time I’d worn fire-engine-red Converses with my prom dress because I refused to wear heels. Oma had said, “You’re certainly not afraid to be yourself.”

Either that or I was just a weird teenager. But the point was, I was always somewhere away from the norms of beauty and probably a lot of other things, but Oma celebrated me just as I was. I had serious doubts that anyone else ever would.

I was startled by a pair of piercing green eyes drilling into me from the rearview. I realized I hadn’t responded. “That’s really impressive,” I said, and I meant it.

“Thanks,” Lilly said in a humble tone. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I mean, I love my job. But being able to paint flowers for actual money is part of my ten-year business plan.”

My business plan was to get my sister off my payroll. Maybe then I’d have time to explore other interests.

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