My grandmother.
Sothiswas Miller’s date?
My unbidden relief was as strong as apple moonshine. “Hello to you both,” I said, suddenly feeling a little bit buoyed.
“Hello, my sweet girls.” Sylvie kissed Rosie and me, looking pleased with herself as usual. “Didn’t I mention this darling young man had agreed to be my escort?” Sylvie’s red lips curved and she sent a wink that was a private message just for me. She was manhandling my life right now, and we both knew it.
“Were all the women your age otherwise occupied?” I asked Miller, trying not to notice the way his hair was perfectly tousled, his eyes were blue as a spring sky, and his bicep flexed beneath Sylvie’s grip. Though he still looked flat-out exhausted.
“I’ll be the envy of every man here.” Miller cast my grandmother an adoring look, then turned to me. “Speaking of men, where is yours, Hattie?”
“Sylvie and Miller, don’t you two make a dashing couple?” Rosie snapped a quick photo of the duo, doing her best to steer the topic away from my failed date.
Sylvie patted Miller’s arm like a doting granny and posed for the camera. “I told him due to my advanced years, I could only guarantee two dances and three make-out sessions.”
“My evening has infinite potential.” Miller’s tan cheek dimpled, a small indentation where arrogance pooled. “Hattie, you were saying I was right about something?”
“Yes, what was that?” Sylvie inquired.
“Nothing.” I pasted on a thin smile and began my walk toward the church. “Y’all are late.”
Miller caught up with me in no time, matching me step for step. “Where’s your new dream date?”
“At a Mensa meeting.” My heels punched the pavement with furious clicks. “He’ll be along as soon as they put the bow on that cure for world hunger they’ve been working on.” I shot Miller a devastating grin. “It’s a burden dating a genius, but if he can sacrifice for the greater world good, then so can I.”
“Kamrnn was a no-show?”
“What?” Sylvie scurried along behind us, Rosie flanking her side. “That young man stood you up? Do you want him to disappear? You just give me his location coordinates. Plus, a box of toothpicks, a large bag of sugar-free gummy bears, and half a roll of Saran Wrap. I can make it happen.”
I didn’t even want to know what Sylvie had in mind, nor did I want to discuss this with Miller. “Can we talk about this later?”Like never?I took a deep breath as we approached the oversized chapel doors. Once as a teenager I’d gone on a small skimmer boat with my stepdad, and the thing had flooded. That’s how my heart felt now—capsized with emotion, fear, shame, anger, and rendered all but paralyzed. I scoured my brain for every coping tool I had but came up empty.
“Hattie?” Miller’s voice was a deep whisper right next to my ear. His hand stopped mine on the door handle. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great. Why would I not be?”
Miller held open the door for the others, letting cool air tiptoe out. “Rosie, why don’t you and Sylvie find us seats toward the back, and Hattie and I will be in shortly.”
Arms crossed over my chest, I rounded on Miller as the two went inside. “The last thing I need right now is an ‘I told you so’ lecture.”
He took a step closer, his cologne sending love notes to my senses. “Then whatdoyou need?”
That caught me up short, and my mind emptied of all ready-made responses. “What, no Kamrnn jokes? No jabs at yet another failure of my man-picking abilities?”
“Maybe later,” Miller said softly before tilting his head. “This wedding’s really rattled you, hasn’t it?”
I pointed back to the chapel made of steel and glass, renowned in the state for its beauty and impossibly long waitlist. “Inside those doors is the man I was supposed to marry. And not only do Inothave a date, but also I will see Ned looking like I was trapped in a hot car all afternoon. So, yes, I’m a little rattled.”
“I think you look beautiful.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, disturbing my mascara even more. “Stop confusing me with the niceness. You’re interfering with my breakdown.”
Miller’s pinkie finger hooked mine, and he gave my hand a little shake. “You can do this, Hattie. Ned’s the one who lost in your breakup. Not you.”
My goodness, Miller’s voice was smooth as jazz from a dive bar. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
He reached for a tendril of hair that had escaped my updo. How did that one gentle tug somehow defy the laws of anatomy and cut off my oxygen supply? And why was Miller standing so close I could see even more lines of fatigue framing his eyes?
“I deal in facts.” Miller wrapped that piece of hair around his finger, one slow rotation, then another. “Just stating the facts. You are beautiful. You always are. Whether it’s six a.m., and you’re in boots and jeans scowling over a coffee cup on the farm or you’re sharing a laugh with my nieces. Or like tonight.” Appreciation lingered in his eyes, like a man beholding a painting in a museum. “Ned will probably see you and go home and cry himself to sleep.”
