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By the time the evening routine is finished and the kids are down for the count, I find myself in my bedroom, lying on the bed as I stare at the ceiling.
This is good. Life is marching on, and I’m finally doing something. Moving forward.
So what if Mac looked like pure, off-limits sex in his smart button-down and combed hair? So what if I sat across the tiny table from him and wondered how he’d react if I walked over and straddled him? My heart thumped the whole meeting, and I could hardly stand to be so close to him without squirming.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
That’s done. I don’t need him. He’s dessert.
With a sigh, I force myself to think of something else—and the next thing on my long list of engagements and to-dos is Fiona’s wedding.
When we worked on her closet, she asked me to help with the reception. She offered a generous payment for me to style the whole wedding party, which I of course tried to refuse. She and the rest of the girls have done so, so much for me over the past months. When Fiona insisted on paying me, I told her my services would be her wedding present. So now I’ve got Agnes’s closet and Fiona’s wedding to focus on, which will hopefully keep my mind off whatever happened at that parent-teacher conference.
The look in Mac’s eyes when I made that stupid, stupid comment about being wet and dirty. The way my whole body tightened and heated. The way that even though I tell myself I’ve moved on, that I’m happy with my new projects and my kids and my independent life, I still remember how it felt to be in Mac’s bed.
If I just keep myself this busy and don’t think about motorcycles, pottery, soccer balls, or elementary teachers, then I can get through this school year unscathed.
Hopefully.
CHAPTER 33
Fiona
When Grant first proposed to me, I never envisaged a big wedding. I thought the second time around for me should be low-key. But over the past months, that has changed. The invitation list has grown to include most of Heart’s Cove, and Grant himself insisted on making an event of it.
So that’s how I’ve ended up with an ivory, tea-length dress with a Bardot neckline, my hair tied in a complicated updo with a veil nestled in the bun at the back of my neck. Looking in the mirror in the dressing room of the old cannery-turned-wedding venue, I let out a deep breath and turn to the girls. “What do you think?”
“Gorgeous,” Simone says with tears in her eyes. “Just beautiful.”
“Congratulations, Fiona,” Candice says, just as teary as Simone.
Jen adjusts the hem of my dress, then squeezes my arm.
Trina stands off to the side, as if she doesn’t feel like she belongs. What she doesn’t understand (yet) is that she’s one of us. She gives me a smile and a nod. “You look incredible, Fiona.”
“Thank you for helping with everyone’s outfit, Trina. We wouldn’t look half as good as we do without you.” I smile at her, then glance at everyone’s outfits. I didn’t want to make them buy bridesmaids dresses they’d never wear again, so I just told them to wear something with green in it. It’s festive, but still classic. Trina knocked it out of the park.
Simone is wearing a fitted, deep-forest-green dress with matching heels. The tailoring on the dress is exquisite, with each seam hugging her curves like it was made for her. A square neckline gives it a sophisticated air, and Trina added a delicate gold chain to set off the look. Simone’s red hair looks insanely vibrant against the color of the dress, swept up in a mess of curls with tendrils framing her face.
Jen looks ah-mazing. She’s wearing a dark-green skirt-and-top set. The crewneck, short-sleeved top fits her perfectly, and the skirt is high-waisted and hits her mid-calf. She looks like a 1950’s queen.
Candice opted for a fluttery dress with a nipped waist and a plunging neckline.
Trina was surprised when I told her I wanted her in green as well. She went with straight, wide-leg pants in a rich, emerald color, combined with that fitted white bodysuit with the low back. She’s wearing green earrings, and her bangs, which have grown out to frame her face really beautifully, look awesome. The woman could put on a paper bag and look like she just walked off a runway.
Finally, I let my eyes land on Clancy. My soon-to-be stepdaughter is wearing a dress cut similarly to mine, hitting her mid-calf with the same Bardot neckline, but hers is cut in green silk. She looks so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. I’ve been so lucky to be able to spend the last couple of years with her, and I spread my arms for a hug.
Clancy’s lip wobbles as she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight before pulling away and readjusting my veil. “I’m happy you’ll officially be my stepmom, Fiona.”
“Me too.” My voice is choked with emotion, and I accept a tissue from Jen to dab at my eyes before I ruin my makeup.
Looking over my closest friends, I let out a little squeal and spread my arms. I’m marrying the man of my dreams. I’m living my dream, and Clancy will officially be my stepdaughter by the end of the afternoon.
But this matters too. My girlfriends—the women who built me back up and gave me a purpose in Heart’s Cove with the Four Cups Café and everything that goes along with it.
“I’m ready,” I announce.
“I’ll let them know,” Jen says, leaning over to tick something off on her tablet. Without me asking, she took over the organization of the day, applying the military precision she uses in baking to making sure everything went off without a hitch.
