One
Ella
“Cansomeone please tell me why I’m not sitting poolside with a hot cabana boy serving me cocktails on the eve of your wedding?” I whined and slammed the trunk of my SUV. “I should be sipping Mai Tais and working on my tan, but no. I’m about to do physical labor.On a farm.”
“Honestly, Ella, it’s goat yoga,” my best friend Liv Sinclair reminded me as though somehow that fact made this unfortunate situation any better. I grumbled to myself, shoving the brand new yoga mat I’d purchased solely for this occasion under my arm.
“Mom,” my daughter Grace chided me. “It’s going to befun.”
“Fun,” I echoed with a snort. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets shit on.”
Liv gave my arm an encouraging squeeze. “Besides, we’re getting brunch with Katie and Antoni afterward.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why didn’ttheyget to come be crapped on by goats?”
“Because,” Liv said, “this is one of the last days the three of us get to be together before Grace runs off to England with Sam.”
She sang his name, and I felt a knot form in my stomach at the thought of my nineteen-year-old daughter leaving the country. It was a gorgeous Friday morning in the second week of June, and not to be dramatic or anything, but this was going to be the last day of life as I knew it.
The changes had started a year and a half before when Liv met her soon-to-be husband, Jax, who just so happened to be a rockstar. It was wild to think that not that long ago, the guys from the band Midnight in Dallas were celebrities to us because in just a few months’ time they’d practically become family. And in less than twenty-four hours, Jaxwouldbe family.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl about Grace’s age sneak a photo of Liv. That was one part of having a famous best friend I didn’t think I would ever get used to. She couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized since she’d become a celebrity.
I watched as Brady, Liv’s security guard, observed the young girl who turned seven shades of red once she realized she’d been noticed. She was probably embarrassed because that wassonot a Nashville thing to do, but also because Brady was kind of a hottie with his beefy chest and tatted arms. I liked Brady a lot. He’d become a friend and a warm presence I’d grown to appreciate, but I had to admit, I missed the times when it was just us.
Of course, I was happy for Liv, but I did feel a sense of impending doom that after she and Jax said ‘I do’ things would never really be the same. This doom was amplified by the fact that come Monday morning, my daughter, my only child and star of my life, Grace, was leaving the country. The previous summer, Grace had started interning as an assistant for Cash Montgomery, CEO of Carrie On Records, the very same label that housed Midnight in Dallas, Liv and Jax’s duo, and the heartthrob pop star from England, Sam Corbyn. Grace had done so well that when Sam needed a temporary personal assistant while his gal was on maternity leave for the summer, Cash suggested Grace for the position. She would fill in on her break and be back in time to return to school at Belmont University in the fall.
I groaned. “I don’t even want to think about you leaving me.”
“You’re going to be fine, Mom.” Grace looped her arm through mine as we trudged up the gravel drive to the gated entryway of The Nashville Goat.
The sound of a shrill scream pierced the air from just beyond the wooden gate, and I stopped dead in my tracks. “Oh my God! Did you hear that? I bet someone got bit. I told you this was a bad idea.”
Grace and Liv exploded into hysterical laughter.
“That’s not a person,” Liv said between giggles. “It’s a goat.”
“Well, are they stabbing it?” I asked in horror. I didn’t particularly want to be there, but I didn’t wish bodily harm on the little shit factories either. “Why is it screaming?”
Grace shook her head. “That’s what goats sound like, Mom. It’s called bleating.”
I pouted. “Like the string of expletives that are going to fly out of my mouth when one of those goats shits on me?”
“Not bleeping.” Liv laughed, twisting her long chestnut hair into a messy bun on top of her head. “Bleat-ing.”
“This is bleating bullshit,” I said, reluctantly resuming our trek toward the sound of the goat screams.Ahem.Bleats.“So help me God, if one of these goats poops on me, you’re both dead.”
We proceeded to the wooden gate and checked in for our torture.Class. I mean class.I bolted toward the grassy area furthest away from the instructor with Liv and Grace on my heels. My nose scrunched involuntarily at the scent of eau de goat shit as I unrolled my yoga mat.
Liv settled in next to me, and Grace dropped her mat on the ground before running off in search of one of the little screaming creatures.
“So, how was last night?” Liv asked, looking like a fitness model as she stretched in her sleek black leggings and sports bra.
I returned my gaze to Liv and grimaced. In anticipation of my entire life being upended, I’d done what any sane woman would do and joined the wonderful world of internet dating. “Caleb was sufficiently boring.”
Liv tilted her head in confusion. “I thought his name was Kyle.”
“Same difference,” I said with a wave of my hand. “He’s a financial advisor, and that’s literally all he talked about. But hey, I should now be able to retire an entire five years earlier based on his advice.”
