Page 55 of Love Letter Lost
“Makes you think about getting married, doesn’t it?” I thought of my desire for a family and home in light of my abysmal dating life. I thought I was closer to at least part of that, a home to call my own for longer than a few months, but I could feel it slipping through my fingers.
“For sure. If all goes according to plan tomorrow, this will be me and Amber in a couple of months.” Ridge continued to look through his stack of photos.
I froze. I’d known it was coming, so why did it hurt so much?
“I wish you both the best.” I couldn’t keep a note of sadness from creeping into my voice.
“What are those misty eyes for?” Ridge’s words made me jump, and I moved to dab the tears away that I hadn’t realized were filling my eyes.
“Just thinking about how happy they are and how I hope to find that for myself someday.” I hedged, not wanting to share my true thoughts.
“I know that feeling, but you’ll get there. I promise.” He gave my arm a squeeze and went back to looking through pictures. “If you’re lucky, you’ll find someone who can make this face.” Ridge held up a picture of David, lips puckered with his cheeks puffed out and his eyes crossed, Livvy unaware and smiling at the camera. I laughed and grabbed the photo, adding it to my top picks pile. They needed a few funny pictures on the tables to balance out all the gushy, picture-perfect romance we would be using.
Ridge and I debated over photos for longer than necessary, knowing Livvy would examine everything with a critical eye. Finally, we had our top 12 photos, the one of David with his cheeks puffed out included.
Once the frames were filled, we arranged the centerpieces, getting Aunt Jenna’s sign-off before calling it a day.
“They look perfect.” She walked from table to table, looking over the details. At one table she stopped to adjust a picture frame before moving to the next table to straighten a tea light. She made a few more minor adjustments before standing and giving me a hug. “Livvy is going to love this.”
“We stuck the floral arrangements in that box to keep them from getting lost.” I gestured behind me against one of the walls. “I figure you can take it with you for photos tomorrow. The bridesmaids’ scarves are in there too.”
“Perfect.” Aunt Jenna gave me another hug before turning to give Ridge one. “Thank you, you two. You’ve done an amazing job. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“You would have figured something out.” Ridge shrugged before looping his arm around my shoulders. “But it wouldn’t have looked nearly this good.”
I laughed before stepping away. He needed to stop this casual contact. It was making my insides leap and jump like a gymnastics routine.
He’s taken, I chanted to myself, over and over. Hoping that at some point my head would get the message through to my heart. I worried that I was headed straight for heartbreak, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do to avoid it.
Glancing at her watch, Aunt Jenna gasped. “We need to get out of here if we’re going to make it in time for the dinner. You two go ahead.”
Leaving the church, I drove home to shower and change. My phone rang as I started up the steps to my apartment. I looked at my phone to see my mother’s face filling the screen. In all the wedding excitement I’d forgotten to call her. She was coming down for the dinner tonight and I’d assumed she could talk to me there.
Taking a deep breath, I answered. “Hi, Mother.”
“Don’t be mad.” Her voice rang out of the phone, and I immediately went on the defensive.
“That’s a terrible way to start a conversation,” I said, dread building in my chest.
“Do you remember Florence’s nephew, Jefferson?” I didn’t. I barely remembered that Florence was her next-door neighbor. Not that it mattered. She didn’t wait for a response. “He just got back from a trip to Connecticut or Colorado or something, and he’ll be in Provo tonight.”
“That’s nice. I hope he enjoys being back in Utah,” I said, still unsure how this connected to me.
“He doesn’t have any plans tonight, so Florence and I decided that he should come to the dinner, and then, if everything goes well, he could be your plus-one tomorrow.”
I almost dropped my phone. My mother loved to interfere. She was a professional meddler, and I brushed it off because I knew she worried. But this was a new low for her. She’d set me up on terrible blind dates, given my phone number to complete strangers, and pushed me to ask out guys I wasn’t remotely interested in, but in all those instances I’d had a choice. I could say no to the blind dates, ignore the phone calls, and refuse to ask the guys out despite her pestering. This was the first time she’d taken me out of the decision-making process entirely.
“Excuse me?” Maybe I had heard her wrong.
“I got you a date for the wedding.” She sounded excited and completely unaware of just how big of a problem this was.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not going on a date with him.” I forced as much steel into my voice as I could.
“But I already told him you would.” She sounded puzzled.
