Page 87 of Good Directions

Sawyer grabs on to my shirt, twisting her fingers in the fabric, holding on as our tongues meet, sending sparks straight down my spine. Making everything feel different. For the first time in my life, this is more than a kiss. It’s a promise. An acknowledgment. And most importantly, an announcement. This is real.

“What was that for?” Sawyer asks, inhaling deeply as she draws back.

I smile, loving the knowledge that I kissed the breath right out of her. “You walked in here looking irresistible, and well, I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m covered in dirt,” she chuckles.

“Like I said, irresistible.”

“Oh, Sawyer, darlin,” Miss Belle says, ignoring the fact that we’re still completely wrapped up in each other. “Tacos work for you? I know it’s not fancy, but the afternoon got away from me workin’ on all this wedding stuff.”

I shake my head. If ever there was proof that Sawyer was now considered family, it’s that my mama is talking to her, rather than me—her own child—about an acceptable dinner option. While she’s standing here in my arms. Nonetheless, it makes my heart happy.

“Tacos are great,” Sawyer answers. “And I totally understand the afternoon getting away from you. It was a busy day.”

“Yeah?” I ask quietly, skimming her up and down again.

My mind runs wild with what could have gotten her in this state, other than outright rolling down a hill somewhere. Which, knowing Sawyer, was probably not on the top of her to-do list.

“Yeah…” Biting down on her bottom lip, she looks up at me with wide eyes. “I kinda did a thing…”

A thing? She did a thing? Oh, boy…

“And I am also aware that it is not Tuesday,” Miss Belle adds, interrupting our whispers. “And I do not care one bit. One can eat tacos on other days of the week, so I will not be hearin’ any lip from you, Anton.”

I raise my hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t think about it, ma’am.”

Turning back to Sawyer, I press a kiss to her forehead, my stomach doing cartwheels with excitement. An evening curled up with her, listening to her talk about whatever breakthrough she made, sounds like absolute perfection.

“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” I tell her.

Peeling away from me, she walks into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking down at the mess my sister has spread out in front of her.

“Seating chart?”

“Yup,” Willa answers, popping the p. “Something I am very much regretting at the moment. Because believe it or not, this thing is an organizational nightmare. You have to make sure all the right people are together, certain sets of people aren’t together, and ugghh…it just sucks. Take my advice—when you get married, let the seating be a free-for-all.”

Sawyer nods. “Noted.”

Instinctively, she reaches for my soda can to her right, lifting it to take a sip, stopping halfway as she realizes it’s not hers. Nudging her, I give her a nod, silently letting her know it’s okay, our wordless communication skills taking over.

“So, where are we sitting?” I ask, my eyes still glued to Sawyer.

“You’re here, table three.” Willa points to a circle on the poster, a purple sticky note next to it with a list of names.

Lucy Keller

Jack Keller

Pops Keller

Anton Hayes

Jace Hayes

Ewan Hayes

Cary Adler