Page 107 of Mountain Grump
I bet he was grinning.
I hope he was with someone he loved.
I hope they gave him peace.
But I bet Uncle Jack thought about this moment before he closed his eyes for the last time.
I bet he thought of me, on my wedding day, stunned and stressed and still going through with it. Because amassing that sort of money and giving it all to me, that was the biggestfuck youhe ever could’ve landed on our family.
Humor and glee and sadness braid themselves around my heart.
But I still walk forward.
“No,” Ethan snaps, looking behind us. “The mother and the aunt. The rest of you wait outside.”
Glee grows inside my chest, and for this moment, I let it win. Because I can see it.
When Ethan yells at my family, I can see why Uncle Jack liked him so much.
Chapter 64
Ethan
The Dolly Partonimpersonator shook our hands, gave our phones to her assistant so he could use them to take photos, then handed Tilda a bouquet of fake roses.
They’re pretty enough. But you can tell they aren’t real.
I glare at the roses. The reddish-orange color isn’t bad, but it’s not right.
Tilda should have pretty purple flowers for her wedding.
Jack clearly laid this whole trap out for us to spring, and we sprang it, so it seems the least he could do is get the fucking flowers right.
But then I take the whole of Tilda in. The frilly yellow dress. The wavy hair I want wrapped around my fist. The boots and the way her cheeks are blushing pink.
I guess the roses work.
“Do you want a matching boutonniere?”
I drag my eyes up to meet Tilda’s and shake my head at her question.
“You sure?” She gives me a soft smile. “The color would match your shirt.”
I look down at my red flannel. And realize my buttons are still half undone.
“Shit.” I quickly do up the buttons.
Tilda snickers. “You could’ve left it open.”
“No, I could not.” I smooth down the material. “I might be wearing an old flannel shirt to our spur-of-the-moment wedding, but I will not have my chest out.”
Tilda snorts. “Chest out?”
“What else would you call it?” I roll my shoulders back, feeling claustrophobic in this narrow, low-ceilinged room.
The walls are covered in more fake flowers. Making the space even narrower. The carpet is a light blue that I bet matches the front door. And the pews, that can fit maybe two people each, are neon pink.
It’s chaos.
