Page 91 of The Weekend Crashers
“We met this weekend,” Piper says. “Hannah taught some of the workshops.”
Until she ran off with Gretchen. That was a whole story she hadn’t even gotten around to sharing with Ethan.
“You didn’t tell me you work at City Hall,” Piper says.
“You didn’t tell me you were getting married.”
Fair point. A gray-haired man pokes his head out of the clerk’s office door and barks at Hannah Elise to keep things moving.
“All right, let’s get you hitched.” Hannah Elise looks around the room. “Where’s Maggie?”
“Couldn’t make it,” Piper says.
Hannah Elise looks skeptical. “I thought you two were, like, best friends.”
The words are a blow. Up until this weekend, she thought so too. Anyone who’d spent time with Piper and Maggie at the retreat would think the same. She wants to go back to the way they were before Sunday night. But there’s no going back. And really, she doesn’t have to explain herself to Hannah Elise, or anyone. Still, she looks at Ethan. They’re doing the right thing, aren’t they?
Seeing her moment of hesitation, Ethan says, “Can you excuse us for just one minute?” He takes her by the hand and leads her out of the room, back into the bustling, wide external corridor. He stops after a few feet and says, “I called your mother.”
She was not expecting this news and is taken aback. “I hope you’re joking.”
“No. I’m serious. A few minutes ago—when I took that walk. I called her, and I told her where we are and what we’re doing.”
Piper’s heart starts pounding. “And?”
“And she said she respects your decision and if this is what you want, she won’t get in the way.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Yeah. She did. I wasn’t going to say anything to you. But if you’re on the fence about getting married this way, I thought you should know: We don’t have to rush because you think Maggie’s going to interfere or make it all about her. She’s not going to. So, I’ll ask you one last time: Do you want to go through with this today?”
Piper doesn’t need to think about the answer. “I don’t.”
He’s right. There’s no real reason to rush. She needs to take a breath.
She needs to talk to her mother.
Chapter Forty-One
Aidan can’t stop checking his phone. He knows it’s inexcusably rude, especially on a date. Aidan finally took his vegetable purveyor, Beverly Cricket, up on her lunch invitation.
He’d gotten the message from the weekend loud and clear: He needs to make his personal life more of a priority. But he’s going to take baby steps, unlike Cole, who is fully committed to a future with Kalli. Aidan thinks he’s rushing—they’ve never had a normal, out-in-the-open relationship. There’s still a lot to learn about one another. But at least now Aidan and Cole can talk about it.
“Everything okay?” Beverly asks.
They’re having lunch at the Grape Seed, a restaurant housed in an ivy-covered redbrick colonial on Mechanic Street. She told him to pick the place, and he chose to dine out in New Hope instead of Doylestown for two reasons: one, it’s arguably the best date town in Bucks County. But also, it’s not in his neck of the woods, so local gossip can be avoided. It’s win-win.
“A cheese delivery didn’t show up,” he says with a contrite smile, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Heading into the weekend without gouda and brie is a problem.”
Beverly smiles with understanding. She’s an attractivewoman in her forties, petite with wavy blond hair to her shoulders, round cheeks, and a small gap between her two front teeth that he only just now notices.
“I get it,” she says. “This time of year, things start to get crazy. You wouldn’t believe the demand for pumpkins ... It would blow your mind.”
“I can imagine. I can’t keep them in the stores.”
He looks out the window, cracked open to let in the fresh air. The early-afternoon light filters through the branches of maples and oaks, casting dappled shadows across the sidewalk. Families with kids in tow stop to look in shop windows, while a few cyclists pass slowly, wheeling their bikes beside them. A breeze rustles the fallen leaves, sending a swirl of crimson and gold skittering along the ground. Couples stroll leisurely, bundled in scarves and light jackets, occasionally pausing to read the plaques on the historic buildings. Somewhere in the distance, a street musician plays an Ed Sheeran song.
There is one downside to his choice of location, one he didn’t anticipate, but probably should have: It makes him think about Maggie Hodges.
