No answer could be easier: “I know I can.”
CHAPTER TEN
KAYLA
The town council meets tomorrow to decide my fate.
Unfortunately for them, I’m getting married tonight. And they aren’t invited.
I’m standing inside a white canvas tent just past the third base line, tucked beside the old chain-link fence. From here, my dad and I will walk across the infield, right to the mound. A makeshift aisle, traced in chalk dust and flower petals, leads the way. It’s a beautiful night—mild and peaceful, and even the humidity has decided to cut me a break, although the citronella candles all over the outfield are fighting a losing battle against the bugs.
“You look beautiful,” Mom says in her pale lavender sheath and matching wrap. She puts her hands on my arms and angles me toward the full-length mirror leaning against the tent pole. We borrowed it from Tripp and Jane’s guest bedroom.
I haven’t spent time admiring myself in a mirror for years. I get ready every day, but I’m quick and efficient. I put on my makeup, and then I go.
But I give myself a pass today. I take a moment to look over my appearance, and I’m struck by the woman staring back.
I’m wearing a soft ivory gown with a sweetheart neckline, fitted through the bodice and layered with sheer tulle that brushes the tops of my feet when I walk. I found it off the rack at Neiman’s in Lenox four days ago. It’s a far cry from the custom-made Oscar de la Renta gown I was supposed to wear in another life, but Scottie stood outside the dressing room and, when she saw me, fanned herself with a pair of Spanx.
“Girl, if you don’t buy this dress, you’re making a huge mistake. You’re going to drop Sean to his knees.”
I laughed—and bought it.
The tailor took my measurements and got to work immediately. The dress was shipped express and arrived this morning.
It wasn’t until I put it on a half hour ago that I noticed the hem; Scottie had the tailor add a personal touch: a subtle line of baseball stitching, embroidered in soft thread like a quiet inside joke that makes me love her all the more.
My auburn hair is twisted up in a messy knot, a few tendrils trailing around my neck, and a scattering of pearl pins catching the light like fireflies.
My bone-colored heels are four inches high. And I know this sounds crazy, because I’m an Amazon in the things, but I like the way they lengthen me.
Besides, Sean has inches on me still.
“You look happy,” Mom says, a bit too quietly.
I smile, although I’m not sure that’s how I’d put it. But I am sure of one thing: I feel like myself. Maybe more than I have ina long time. “Are you okay with this, Mom?” I ask, although I should probably ask myself that question.
Mom’s lips pull to the side. Her dirty blonde hair has been pinned up, but small wisps have fallen forward, and I love the effect on her. “I don’t know. You seem more content than I’ve seen you in years, and that makes me happy. I just wish I knew Sean better.”
“You’re going to love him,” I say confidently, even though my chest tightens with a flicker of guilt and something that feels dangerously close to grief. If she and my family love him, what happens in a year when I have residency and we go our separate ways? We’ll still be friends, of course, because I already know Sean is the kind of guy I’ll want to have in my life long after this. Will my family love him too much? Will they still want him to come to family reunions, even when we’ve both moved on?
Will he become their Meryl? Someone they can’t let go of? Someone they’ll never forgive me for giving up?
“What doyoulove about him?” Mom asks.
My heart gives a lopsided thud.
I could list a hundred things that make him good on paper. That part’s easy. But I don’t know how to explain the way my whole body unclenches when he’s in the room.
“He’s a great listener. Like, Dad-level listening. He works as hard as anyone I’ve ever known. He’s committed to other people. He was drafted into the NHL when he was 21, but he turned it down after his dad was paralyzed in a car accident so he could look after him.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “Oh, I love him already.”
I smile, my chest warmer. “He was my first friend in this town before I even knew I needed one.” I look at myself, at how tall I’m standing next to her. My mom is five-nine, but our height is our only resemblance, at least physically. My youngest brotherand I were both adopted at birth, yet I’ve known I belonged with my parents for as long as I can remember.
I’ve been searching my whole life for another person who could make me feel like that.
I don’t know everything about Sean, though we’ve gotten to know each other a lot better in the last week of wedding prep. But I know he never makes me feel like I need to be anything other than who I am.
