Page 11 of Wedding or Not

“I’ll do it.” Wes stands up and pulls his chair over so it’s at our table instead of his. “I agree if Ella does.”

I make a choked sound. “You… you do?”

“Yes.” He’s dead sober and speaking softly. “It’s a good idea. We’ve already seen an artificial boost in business from this, and we need for it to continue long enough to make headway on the debt. This might do it. I agree if Ella does.”

My cheeks are hot, and my hands and feet are freezing. I stare blankly between Wes and Natalie. “But… why would you…”

He frowns at me. “Why must you constantly doubt my commitment to Blossom Park? You think it’s not important to me too? I don’t want to sell off parts of it if we don’t have to, and the last thing I want is for it to fold. I’d like to save it, and right now this is our best option. But you have to be okay with it too.”

“I’m not… I mean, I don’t know if I’m okay with it, but Blossom Park is the most important thing. So if you both think this is… is worth a try, I’ll agree. But it’s going to be awkward as hell, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But you’re awkward around me anyway.” He talks over my gasp of indignation. “You are. You don’t like me, and you’re a person who usually likes everyone, so you don’t know exactly how to deal with the feeling. It’s fine. I’m used to it. It doesn’t have to get in the way of this. So I’ll agree to this plan as long as you’re genuinely willing to play along. And as long as we agree that all the extra income we earn this year goes directly to paying off debt.”

“Yes.” My throat is still tight, but there are flutters in my chest and belly again. That excitement I felt this morning—the entire world being made new—is filling me again. “Yes, of course. We’re not going to start splurging because extra money comes in. We’ve lived without a lot for years now. We can do it for long enough to get us out of this hole. Then maybe…”

I meet Natalie’s eyes and see the same aching hope I’m experiencing.

Maybe Blossom Park will be safe again, and we won’t have to spend the rest of our lives fighting an undertow that’s forever threatening to sweep us all into the ocean to drown.

Maybe this can save us.

“I agree,” I say, meeting Wes’s sober gray eyes. “So let’s make a plan.”

CHAPTER 3

The first step of The Plan happens that evening as I sit alone next to an empty seat at an outdoor performance of the local symphony at a park a few towns away.

The county is mostly rural. Just a collection of small towns with farms and pastures between them. But we’re close enough to big cities to have a percentage of the population be wealthy, so we have a number of cultural activities that wouldn’t happen in other rural counties.

One of those activities is quarterly symphony orchestra performances—outdoors in spring and summer and indoors in autumn and winter.

Anyone can attend, bringing blankets or folding chairs to set up in the grass around the performance space. But the rows of chairs in the best positions are ticketed, and I’m in possession of two of them.

Aunt Grace and Audrey were planning to go, but they were happy to sacrifice the tickets in service of The Plan.

Wes is already in place. Jake, his father, came early to nab a prime position on the grass nearby, and Wes is sitting with him and Aunt Grace and Audrey. He’s pretending not to notice me.

Or maybe he actually doesn’t.

Natalie spent a lot of time deciding on my outfit. I’m wearing one of Aunt Grace’s dresses—she lived for twenty years in Europe before moving home after our parents died, and she has a large collection of the most beautiful, bohemian dresses in existence. This one is a warm dusty pink with large white polka dots and a long, swingy skirt, and I’ve paired it with cute boots and the same hand-knit white cardigan I wore yesterday.

I’m a little more dressed up than most people in attendance, but I’m not the only one who used this as an opportunity to wear something nice.

Besides, I’m supposed to be on a date.

Only my date isn’t showing up.

I would never consider myself a great actor, but our livelihood and Blossom Park itself is on the line, so I call on every skill I possess to pretend an increasing impatience over my no-show of a date.

I check my watch. I keep pulling up messages on my phone. I look around, peering at every newcomer. And then I finally stand up and make an obvious search of the park in all directions.

“Maybe he’s just running late.” That’s the older woman with an elegant updo and no-nonsense shoes sitting beside me. “We still have a few minutes.”

I sit back down with slumped shoulders. “I know. But I’d think he would text if he were running late.” Responding to her sympathetic smile, I go on. “It’s a new thing. So I might be stood up.”

On cue, my phone chimes with a new message. I check it and see the text from Audrey. Fake message canceling on you.

I slump even more.