Page 80 of New River Gorge(ous)
I have no insight into that, but I’m glad she’s not leaving the mannequin naked.
Lynette dropped Melanie and me off at Meemaw’s after our shopping excursion. Melanie loops her arm in mine as she carries multiple bags up the porch to Meemaw’s house.
“You’re back!” Meemaw exclaims as we walk through the door.
Matt’s eyes are huge, and he immediately relaxes when he sees Melanie. “Help me,” he mouths at me behind Meemaw.
“I was just telling Matthew here the merits of a good ol’-fashioned wedding,” Meemaw says. “I need some grandbabies.”
I swallow down a laugh, relieved that Meemaw has moved on to pestering Matt, but also taking a little pity on the poor guy. Meemaw’s very traditional views mean that Matt has the couch, and Melanie and I are sharing a room at night. He’s in for a very long discussion on the finer points of having funaftermarriage, and I don’t think Melanie’s quite comfortable with Meemaw’s baby coveting just yet.
“Meemaw,” I say, changing the subject for Matt’s sake, “I got the cutest dress.”
Meemaw’s eyes widen. “I must see it.”
“When is the dance?” Melanie interjects. “We need to get ready, right?”
“Beck said he’d pick us up at eight,” I say. “But it’s only four now.”
“Oh, honey,” Melanie says, patting my hand like you would a child’s. “We needallthat time to get ready.”
I blow out a breath because Melanie is determined, and Meemaw is nodding along in agreement. “Yes, you ladies need to take your time and get ready. Don’t worry, I’ll distract themenfolk so you can knock their socks off.” Meemaw pats Matt’s leg and leans closer to him, loudly whispering, “I’d like at least ten great-grandchildren.”
Matt’s eyes widen to comical proportions.
I shrug as Melanie leads me past my two blood relations and to the small pink room we’re currently sharing. Melanie isn’t someone I’d naturally be friends with, but I’m determined to try for Matt’s sake. She is a nice person, and I’ve judged her for her looks without really getting to know her. I also suspect she knows her way around a getting-ready routine.
When she pulls out an entire hair salon’s worth of tools from her suitcase, it appears I was right.
“Let’s do this,” she says, grabbing a comb—and it would seem I have no choice.
44
Beck
It’s seven fifty-seven p.m. I know I said I’d pick them up at eight, but I’m pacing with the feeling of dread that accompanies social interactions where Addie could show up. The annual dance at Billy’s isn’t a secret, and she’ll see Ben leaving. If there’s even a whiff of drama, she’ll be there.
Anticipation and anxiety are driving me crazy. I slide into my shoes, practical boots with enough comfort to dance, and jam my hands into my jeans pockets as I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror behind the front door. I look good.
The hair gel has made my copper hair tidily messy, the hint of stubble growing in on my jaw makes me look rugged, and the soft flannel shirt popped over a plain black t-shirt fits the part of a dive bar having a locals-only dance.
I take my hands out of my pocket and run them through my hair one last time, trying to get it just right. If anything, it doesn’t work, and now a piece sticks up at an awkward angle. I try to force it down, but it’s determined to stay up.
My eyes track to the crucifix by my door. I swore I wouldn’t date anyone after Addie, but here I am, headed out on a date with June’s ruby ring in my pocket. I close my eyes and take a breath, praying that I’ll know how to move forward, that something will click into place, and I’ll know when it’s time.
My phone alarm rings. It’s eight.
I could stay here and fight with my hair all evening, or I could go pick up my date. It’s an easy choice because all my heart wants is to see Brooke.
I slam my front door shut, hoping to leave the anxiety monster behind.
When I knock on June’s door, June answers. Matt sits stiffly on the floral couch, his blue eyes rapidly searching from side to side as if he’s looking for an escape route. He’s wearing jeans and a bright blue quarter zip with a gym logo on it. The B’s in Beast and Bastion flank a horizontal line, giving it the effect of a barbell.
“Beckett,” June says. “Just wait right here a moment while the girls finish up.” She gestures to the couch, and I sit next to Matt.
“Hey, how’s it going, man?” I ask.
Matt starts to say something and then stops. For a moment, I’m concerned he’s had a stroke, but then it’s my turn to lose focus.
