Page 50 of The Accidental Text

Chase:Does this seem as weird to you as it does to me?

Maggie:Super weird.

Chase:Glad we’re on the same page.

Maggie:I mean, don’t come unless you want to.

I throw that out there for him—a lifeline. It gives him an excuse. He’s got a good one. He’s still in the heaviest part of the grieving process. He could easily say that, on second thought, he’s not sure he’s up for it, and I would fully understand. It’s a good excuse.

Chase:Are you trying to uninvite me?

Maggie:No! I just don’t want you to feel obligated or something.

Chase:I’m up for it. I’m an excellent wingman, by the way.

I expel a big breath, slowly, through my lips.

Maggie:See you at 7.

I look in the mirror again, my eyes wide this time. I then set down my phone, pick up my blow dryer, put the setting on cool, and use it to dry my armpits.

Chapter 15

I’m a bundle of nerves. Jittery, like I just drank a bunch of caffeine.

I’m currently trying to tape a sign to the shop front door that says: “Restrooms Inside.” But my fingers are fumbling, and the tape keeps getting stuck together before I can apply it. I’ve said a lot of cusswords under my breath.

Behind me, the catering company is moving around the tent getting everything into place, like busy worker bees. The DJ is setting up to the left, a wood dance floor laid out in front of him, taking over that entire corner of the tent.

There are high-top tables by the bar, and larger lower tables covered with tablecloths surrounded by chairs in matching fabric covers. Twinkle lights hang from the top of the tent, giving the space an ethereal feeling.

Chelsea is back to being Chelsea. No more freaking out, just calm and cool and making everything happen. She’s in her element now, directing everyone in her pale-pink dress with a tulle skirt and beaded bodice. Gone is the Chelsea from yesterday with the red eyes and the look of panic on her face. It’s amazing what a night of sleep can do.

I take in a breath after finally taping the sign to the door. So much anxiety moving through me right now. I also feel a bit first-day-of-school uncomfortable, like there’s so much to anticipate, so many unknowns, and did I even pick the rightoutfit? I look down at my black cocktail dress. It’s strapless and fitted, landing just above my knees. I have a jacket to put over it if I get cold, since we’re still in the season when it’s not over one hundred degrees for twenty-four hours of the day. According to the forecast, it could get down to the low sixties tonight, which is cold for Arizonans. Chelsea has placed tall patio heaters around the tent, just in case.

I don’t think I’ll need the jacket, with my body reacting the way it is. All antsy, with sweaty palms and pits.

“I don’t have time for you to freak out,” Chelsea says as she walks up to me where I'm still standing by the door I was assigned to put a sign on. Chelsea looks at the sign, eyeing it from different angles. She ends up taking it off and then putting it back on how she wants it. This is the story of my life. I’m surprised she didn’t redo the spots I marked for the cars on display tonight. She may have while I wasn’t here. I wouldn’t know; I’m not as meticulous as she is.

“I’m not freaking out,” I say, reaching up and running my fingers over thekpendant hanging from the chain around my neck.

“You look like you are,” she says. She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let June overwhelm you.”

I wrinkle my nose. I’d completely forgotten June was going to be here. Inviting Chase and him agreeing to come superseded anything else I was worried about tonight. I don’t want to tell her any of this, though. It’s too long of a conversation, and Chelsea would probably worry that somehow Chase would ruin her perfectly put together party. She probably won’t even notice he’s here once everything gets started. That’s why I texted him back and told him to come atseven thirty—so he’d show up a little after everything was in swing. That way his arrival will be more inconspicuous.

“You’re right,” I say, blaming June. Poor June. I’ve used her twice now. She doesn’t deserve this.

“Remember, we aren’t supposed to know that she’s here as anything but a friend to Dad.”

“I know,” I say.

“Just pretend,” Chelsea says, stepping back and looking me over, taking in my outfit. She reaches up and moves some of my hair around. Then she gives me a nod of approval and walks away.

Pretending is actually good life advice for me right now. I’m going to pretend that I invited my long-lost friend Chase out tonight, and not a stranger I met because he has my mom’s phone number.

Forty-five minutes later, the party is just getting started. A lot of people are here—all of the Cooper’s employees and many of our clients. I’ve been walking around talking to some of our regulars. One of my favorite clients, Andy Lawrence, is here with his wife, Nicki. She looks stunning in a plum-colored dress, her red hair half–pulled back. They are couple goals as I watch the way he looks at her while we’re talking. Like she’s the only person in the room. The only person his eyes want to see.

No one is dancing yet—the music is more background at this point. I suspect it will take more drinking to get people onto the dance floor. I’ll definitely need some liquid courage myself. I worry that some of our employees might get a little carried away tonight. Okay, it’s Chad. I’m mostly worried about Chad. I’ve already told Devon he has to keep an eye on him.

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