Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I step back under the building’s awning to take the call. “Mom, what’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Callie, thank goodness I got ahold of you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, so many things. The bakery is threatening a delay, the photographer keeps adding costs onto the package, and the deejay’s been asking a million questions I can’t answer.”
“Okay …” None of these items have anything to do with me, so I’m confused about the emergency.
“Your sister and Adam are the ones who need to decide about the music, but for some reason, I’m the one getting all the calls and emails.”
From what Sadie told me, Mom wanted to be the primary contact person for everything, so I don’t understand why she’s complaining about this. Or again, what any of it has to do with me.
Realizing there’s no urgency to this call, I start toward my car, pulling my key fob from my bag while I juggle the phone and umbrella, grateful to the pitter-patter of the raindrops for drowning out some of what Mom is saying.
“…not to mention the calligrapher. It’s such horrible timing that Rick broke up with you before Sadie’s wedding.”
My eyes roll so far back in my head, it hurts. My sister knows most of what happened with Rick, but I couldn’t bear to tell my mom. She lectured me about being too young to be engaged, and at first, she didn’t like Rick, but he won her over, the fake bastard. Just like he won me over when we first met.
He charmed us both so thoroughly that I was blinded to his true nature. When we broke up, Mom was upset and assumed it had to be my fault.
I intended to set her straight, but it hurt too much at the time—it still does, if I’m being honest—and I don’t want to hear the “I told you so’s” about my poor judgment, if she would even believe me. The more time that passes, the more I just want to let the whole thing drop, and luckily, Sadie’s wedding has been a perfect distraction, keeping my mom from asking too many questions about my broken engagement. Until this pesky place card situation arose.
“Did you decide on who you’ll be bringing as your date yet, Callie? We’re going to incur rush charges if I don’t give the calligrapher a name right away.”
The damp, rainy air is cold, but my cheeks burn with irritation. When I reach my car, the door won’t open. I try again, and get the same results. Pulling the phone away, I listen for the beep triggered by the keyfob, but don’t hear anything.
Am I at the right car?
“What will Adam’s father think?” my mom is saying when I bring the phone back in range of my ear.
“Why do you care, Mom?” I’d typically keep this type of thought to myself, but it slips out unchecked as I verify that this is the only white car in the lot. It’s definitely mine, even though the lights aren’t flashing when I click the button.
“He is paying for most of the wedding, Callie. Of course it matters what he thinks. Someone your age and with your good looks should be dating a nice young man. The kind of date you bring says something about our family.”
Fruitlessly, I try all of the door handles, even though it makes no sense that the back door would unlock when the driver’s door wouldn’t. The rain, which had been quietly steady, picks up pace, big drops splashing off of the side of the car and onto me.
“Tell me you haven’t been sitting around moping, Callie. You should be dating, trying to find someone as good as Rick was—”
Lord, help me.
“…or a guy like Adam. Someone who’ll care for you, so I don’t have to worry about you, or worry about what people think about your situation. My friends say—”
Something in me snaps. I’m still trying to figure out why my car doors won’t open, I’m stepping in puddles and gradually getting drenched, and I just need her to stop talking.
“I’ve been dating someone, Mom.”
I realize it’s a huge mistake as soon as the words leave my mouth, but once they do, there’s no turning back.
Her tone changes immediately. “Wonderful. I can’t wait to meet him at the wedding. What’s his name?”
“I … I’m not sure if he can come.” I inspect the keyfob to see if something’s wrong with it.
“Not sure if he can come? What do you mean?”
“He might have to work. And it’s such a long event.”
“What does he do?”
“Mom, I’m out in the rain right now. I’ll tell you about him another time.” My keys slip out of my wet hand, drop into a puddle, and somehow bounce under the car, and I bite back a string of expletives.
“Surely he can come to the ceremony and the reception, at the very least.”