Page 106 of The Wedding Favor

“And you’re panicking because…?”

I slapped my hands on his desk. “I am not ready at all. I need a talent. I have no talent. I can’t juggle flaming batons while playing Chopin on the piano.”

“I think Haydn would be a better choice,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He straightened his chair. “I’m sure you have a talent.”

I threw myself in the metal chair across from his desk. “Gloria wants me to sing. I can’t sing. But I don’t have anything else. She says singing is all about attitude.”

“You said she knows about pageant stuff. Sounds like good advice.”

“Nobody likes my attitude either.”

He started to laugh but stopped when he saw the look on my face. “I like your attitude.”

“Yeah, you should probably see a medical professional about that.”

His smile was barely contained. “How can I help?”

“Hallie said you might be able to help since you play the guitar and sing to the plants.”

“I guess I could,” he said slowly. “I’m no professional though.”

“You’ll probably regret this. Some of your plants might shrink after hearing me.” I jumped up and rounded the desk to stand in front of him. He turned his chair slightly, so he faced me. “Thank you.”

“I’m only passable at that stuff. I’m not sure I’m going to be all that helpful.”

“Are you kidding? Passable is my dream.” I leaned down, caught that warm, spicy smell that followed him everywhere. My pulse sped up. To show my gratitude, I pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering a second too long for it to be completely platonic. He inhaled sharply. I pulled back a few inches and smiled. “You are my hero.”

“You are dangerous.” But he was smiling when he said it.

When Abe came home that day, he pulled out his guitar. While Hallie practiced her magic tricks in her bedroom, Abe and I settled in the sunroom with all the plants. I might have imagined it but they seemed to perk up when they sensed their master’s return. “Can you sing something? Just so we can figure out what might be a good song for you.”

“You have been warned.” I sang a few lines of the first thing that popped in my head.

“‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’” Abe said, his arm draped over the top of the guitar he had balanced on his leg. “I think?”

“Ha. Ha.” I sat heavily on the rocking chair in the corner. One of the plants, I believed his name was Tyler, gently brushed my arm as I rocked. “I can’t do this. And I can’t blame anyone else. I did this to myself.”

I’d second-guessed myself a hundred times since signing up for this pageant but every time I thought about quitting, I saw Megan and her smug face in my mind and doubled down. Plus, Hallie had taken to the whole thing quickly, and slowly she was a little more confident each day.

“We’ll pick a simple song and practice. That’s all. We’re not going for perfect, right?”

We spent the next twenty minutes trying out different songs until we stumbled on one that seemed easy enough: “You Are My Sunshine.” I already knew it, or I thought I did. But I was surprised to discover there were four verses and together, they created an achingly sad song of heartbreak.

Abe played it through a few times on his guitar and sang. He had a nice voice, smooth and low, and for some reason, I couldn’t look away.

“How about I sing a line, and you repeat it?”

I blinked, pulling myself from the Abe hypnosis I was under and nodded. I’d have liked to have said this method worked well. It did not. The notes were all wrong, and I started too late or too early. Maybe Gloria was right and I was a lost cause.

I groaned after the fifth or sixth time we tried. “I’m so bad at this.”

“You’ll get it. Why don’t we sing it together a few times?” He strummed the guitar and started to sing. I joined in and, like magic, it worked. Together, we didn’t sound half-bad. I mean, I was the bad half, but his half made up for my missteps.

“That worked?” I said in astonishment. “That worked.”