Page 8 of Wedding or Not

It reminds me of my own failure.

I still go regularly because I’m not a petty person, and any new business in town has the potential for bringing new customers to Blossom Park.

I want Rooster’s to survive. Its failure would do nothing to absolve my own and would be a commercial blow to our small town.

About a third of the tables are taken, and there’s a handful of people in line at the counter when I walk in, which is typical for eight thirty on a weekday.

Natalie waves to me from the small corner table she snagged, and I gesture toward the counter to let her know I’m grabbing my drink first.

My heart and belly are fluttery from excitement (and a little embarrassment since it feels like people are staring at me), so as I wait in line, I debate internally between one of my normal drinks or a complicated sugary concoction.

I compromise on a chai latte with brown-sugar syrup and bring it over to Natalie’s table.

She has her pink MacBook set up on the table and is drinking her normal hot cinnamon tea (decaf with no sweetener). “Can you believe this?” she asks as I sit down. “I’ve already scheduled showings every afternoon and evening for the next two weeks.”

“That’s amazing. Audrey said you’ve booked some events and even weddings?”

“Yeah. So far just from folks who already know us, so they didn’t need to tour our spaces or learn about our services, so at least some of the interest is genuine. What a stroke of luck.”

“I know. I should be embarrassed about being exposed so publicly, but if it gets us out of the red, I’ll take it.”

Natalie has been eyeing me as I sip my latte. “Why didn’t you dress cuter?”

“What?” I frown at my sister, who has always been blunt and straightforward but usually isn’t mean. “Why would I dress cute to hang out here?”

“I don’t know. I just thought… You never know. You didn’t even put on any makeup.”

Because I dressed quickly, I put nothing on my face except moisturizer, and I braided my hair in one thick plait. I’m wearing wide-leg jeans and an oversized cream-colored crocheted sweater Aunt Grace made for me back in high school.

“You think someone is going to film me again?” I laugh out loud. “There’s no one but locals here.”

“One of them might. It’s still going strong on every social media platform. Have you looked?”

“No. I’ve been too scared and embarrassed to peek.”

“Well, it’s taken off to an insane extent. Even Aunt Grace said her online shop is getting bombarded. Everyone wants a sweater like the one you were wearing yesterday or a sweater-vest like the one Wes was wearing.”

That makes me giggle. “Well, she can’t produce those on demand.”

“I know! She has four sweater orders and two vest orders scheduled out for later this year and has sold out all her scarves, shawls, and mittens, so she’s about to close her shop temporarily.”

“People have lost their minds.”

“I’m not sure they ever really had them, but if this works in our favor, I say we should go with it. Actually, I’ve been thinking and I have an idea…” She trails off when her eyes shift over my shoulder to the entrance of the shop.

Since my back is to the door, I have to turn all the way around to look.

When I see who just came in, I gasp and whirl around, leaning slightly to the left in the hopes of being hidden by one of the wood posts scattered through the room.

Natalie snorts. “Was that a cringey attempt to hide from him?”

“No,” I tell her with more gravity than truth. “Why would I hide from Wes?”

“Because you’re embarrassed that the whole world thinks you’re secretly in love. Who wouldn’t be? But he’s got to be embarrassed too, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem to get embarrassed by anything. He’s too smug and superior for such lesser feelings.”

“Maybe. But I bet he’s just as mortified as you are by the whole thing.”