Page 26 of Sugar
Gus Romano appears again, having just dropped plates off at another table. “You kids all set?” he asks.
Kasey smiles up at him, lines around his eyes etching into sun-kissed skin. “Yes, sir. The food was as good as ever. Thank you for the milkshakes.”
“Any time.” He waves a hand. “Hope to see you back here soon.”
We both nod and watch Gus disappear into the kitchen again.
I reach a hand across the table, wrapping my fingers around Kasey’s. He goes still, eyes snagging on mine.
I feel it like a current.
“Thanks for a sweet date night,” I say.
His smile fades. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
KASEY
Pastor Brown blinks at us, utterly unconvinced. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his wide mahogany desk, he steeples his fingers together in front of the thin line of his mouth. “Two weeks?” he asks, eyes bouncing from me to Ava.
Ava nods, a smile radiating from her lips. Her teeth are stark white against the dark pink lipstick she’s wearing today, and I wonder if he finds it as distracting as I do. “Yes, sir,” she says, full of confidence. “I’ve been back in Saddlebrook Falls for just a couple weeks.” I always admired that about her, the way she could convince anyone of just about anything when she had her mind set to it. It’s also one of the things that drove me out ofmymind. She’s stubborn, and she knows how to get what she wants. I bet it serves her well as a lawyer.
I bet she still brings men to their knees.
It was her idea to come to a church service together today. I guess she thought if we played our cards right, we could convince the man at the helm of this congregation to marry us. I’ve only stepped foot in this building a handful of times, but the pastor knows me; my family’s reputation is probably enoughto give him pause. It’s going to take more convincing than Ava thought.
“But, if you remember,” she continues, “our relationship really began ten years ago.”
“Ah, yes.” The pastor nods. “I certainly remember. Your father was quite concerned about your . . .infatuationwith each other.”
“Not an infatuation.” Ava smiles. “We were in love.” She turns to me, her sapphire eyes shining beneath the pendant light that hangs from the ceiling above us. The corner of her mouth rises higher, and my stomach swoops. She looks back toward the pastor, tucking a rogue piece of dark hair behind her ear with painted nails. “And we’ve realized our love never went anywhere. It’s endured, even after all this time,despitethe opinions of my father.”
Pastor Brown clears his throat. “Is he aware of your plans to wed?”
Ava shakes her head. “We’ll make a formal announcement once we confirm a date—we’ll invite the whole town! Do you have any availability this month? I think March is a perfect time of year for our anniversary?—”
“Don’t you think your father should know this is happening?” Pastor Brown interjects, his eyes slightly narrowed as they flick to me. “Wouldn’t it be tradition to ask for his blessing?”
Ava maintains her composure, but I can see the way she stiffens, the way her hand twitches in her lap like she has to fight the urge to clench it into a fist. “With all due respect, Pastor Brown, I don’t think it’s necessary to provide you with a signed permission slip. I’m nearly thirty years old and perfectly capable of understanding when and to whom I’d like to marry.”
The words send my heart into a tailspin as the echoes of a teenage Ava rattle through me. She was never one to back down from a fight, especially when it came to her own agency. Tenyears ago, I would have burned the world down for her, would have probably thrown some choice words at this old pastor in her defense. But we aren’t those kids anymore. Plus, it would likely only piss her off.
She doesn’t need my help.
“That may be so, but marriage is a sacred covenant, and I don’t make a habit of marrying anyone unless I wholeheartedly believe in the sturdiness of their union.”
“So what are you saying?” I chime in. Both of them look at me. “You won’t marry us?” The skin around my hands feels tight, fingers fidgeting in my lap.
Pastor Brown considers my question for a long moment. “Pre-marital counseling,” he finally announces. “Two sessions. The first will cover logistics, and the second is all about heart. I require it of all couples. Convince me that this isn’t a flame set to kerosene, that your love won’t eventually burn out, and I’ll marry you.”
“When do we start?” Ava asks, undeterred.
The pastor shuffles around some paperwork on his desk to uncover a leather notebook. He opens it, revealing pages of a calendar with handwritten notes throughout. “The church is rather busy these next few weeks, but it looks like I have a morning open, ten days from now, that would be an ideal timeslot for a ceremony should we decide to proceed. It means our sessions would need to happen soon.” He flips another page, peering through square-framed glasses. “I can take an appointment for our first session on Wednesday. Say, noon?”
“I’ve got the ranch?—”
“We’ll take it,” Ava rushes out. She glances my way, shooting me an expectant look.
