And now we’re driving to Tripp and Jane’s farm in Sugar Maple together. Wes has been much more tolerable on the drive, but only because he’s been on his phone the whole time.
When we get to the farmhouse, Wes jumps out first, leaving Kayla and me to catch up.
“Your brothers really are twerps,” I say as we walk up the porch hand-in-hand.
“Told you.”
I’ve been to Sugar Maple Farms a handful of times—Fall Festivals, strawberry picking, Food Truck Fridays—but never to the farmhouse itself. Yet without having seen it before, I can tell it’s been renovated and modernized. The porch has a freshly painted swing and hanging ferns, and the scent of flowers and new cedar shingles wafts on the hot breeze. Inside, the walls are lined with reclaimed barn wood and bright family photos. It’s a blend of old bones and new warmth, and it suits Jane and Tripp perfectly.
Inside, we walk down a long hallway. Kayla’s in a breezy navy sundress and strappy sandals, her waves loose. I’m in a short-sleeved button-down and shorts, with shoes Kayla swears aren’t technically boat shoes—but I’m not convinced. We look just coordinated enough to make people wonder if we planned it. A glance down shows our steps fall in sync without even trying.
The kitchen is a gleaming mix of charm and function, and a giant island stretches through the center, cluttered with serving trays and Tupperware. Kayla’s mom is helping Jane’s best friends take food from the kitchen outside to a covered patio, where cool misters are fighting the heat and humidity. I stand just past the back door on the patio and watch as Kayla effortlessly joins in with her mom, and Jane, Ash, and their friends.
I almost forgot that this was once her grandparents’ house. She grew up coming here. Duke said she was his first crush.
Was she as comfortable here growing up as she looks now? Is any part of that easy smile now because of me? Because I’m letting her learn to live her life, not just perform it, as her dad said?
This generous, open smile is Kayla’s default. Her factory setting. Mullet Ridge has squeezed some of the sunshine out of her, but she can’t not be warm. And when Ash makes a joke, Kayla’s laugh is like the nearby bubble machine the kids are surrounding, sending bright spots of joy to everyone around her.
If we choose this marriage after a year, this is what I can expect. Holidays with her family. Loudness and laughter. My own family is so small—just me, my parents, and Patty. Yet he’s is in the same spot I’m in. His girlfriend is one of Jane’s best friends. They’re on a path to forever, too.
A year from now, my own brother could be here on this farm with me. To think that our tiny circle could expand to something like this …
My heart swells a little too big for my chest, sending emotion up to my eyes. I blink back the wetness. I don’t hide from emotion, but tearing up at a baby shower may not be the right move in front of Kayla’s family. I’d probably have to arm wrestle all three of her brothers at the same time to get my clout back.
I spot my friend, Rusty, talking to Tripp and Lawson near the back fence. Wes and the other brothers are kicking a soccer ball around like they’re still fifteen. Hunter took his shirt off, and Jolene is snapping at him to cover himself.
“There are children present! That’s no way to behave in public,” she says.
“Lottie spilled lemonade all over my shirt,” Hunter says. “It’s not like I can borrow one of Tripp’s. He’s built like a mountain.”
Tripp snorts. “It’s okay. I’ve got one that shrunk in the wash.”
He comes back a minute later with a branded McLadyPants luxury underwear T-shirt.
In hot pink.
Hunter’s eyes widen as he reads the fine print: “‘My Wife Rebranded McLadyPants and All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt. And a Smoking Hot Wife Who Wears McLadyPants.’”
Everyone howls, but to his credit, Hunter puts it on eagerly. “See this, Jane? Looks like you and me are getting hitched!” he calls.
“Touch my wife, and I’ll tear your hand off, cuz,” Tripp says.
Hunter grins and wears the shirt like a medal.
And Kayla and her mom and Jane and her friends all laugh.
For a second, I just stand there and take it all in. The smell of cut grass and burgers. The buzz of family. The low hum of contentment that seems to rest on Kayla’s shoulders like sunlight.
It hits me harder than I expect.
I want this. I want thisforever.
“There he is,” Lawson says, waving me over. I comply, taking the dozen steps over to where he and Rusty are standing near a fan. Lawson claps my shoulder when he sees me. “The man who put a smile on my baby girl’s face.”
“It’s only fair,” I say, “considering she’s put a smile on mine.”
Rusty shakes his head, but in a good way. He and I have been close since middle school. I’m a couple years older than he is, but Rusty’s an old soul. We were on the same hockey team when we were kids and he was going through some tough times. We’ve been friends ever since.
