“Am I not jumping up and down?” He mimed squealing like Dylan and Beau. “Better?”
“I guess.”
“What prompted this change? Or should I ask?”
“It’s not that,” I said quickly, knowing his hint meant Ty. “Marilyn offered me space to work out of her store.”
That news took a little of the laughter out of Jed’s expression. “She did?”
“We haven’t talked about all the details yet, but I’ve been wanting to start my own business up, and this is the perfect opportunity. I can still do the online stuff while I build up a clientele at Marilyn’s.”
“That’s awfully generous of her.”
I nodded, running a finger along the spine of a worn book. “I guess she and Pop are pretty serious.”
“Are you okay with that?” His silver-blue eyes weren’t teasing now.
“I’m not okay that y’all kept it from me for so long, but yeah, I think I’m okay with it. I just want Pop to be happy.”
“I think he is.” He paused and seemed to evaluate me. “What about you? Is this move going to make you happy?”
“I miss you guys. Dad, Wade, Annie, the boys. Eden and the girls. I miss beinghome.”
“You’re really done with Austin?”
The question sounded so stark, so all or nothing, but my answer didn’t feel any less true. “I think I’ve been done for a long time. After we lost Mom, I thought coming back here would mean giving everything up, you know? It would prove I couldn’t deal, prove I couldn’t really make it in design. I think I wanted to come home even before that—I just didn’t know that was what I wanted.”
“I know what you mean. Come here.”
He wrapped me in a hug and held on tight. I sank into his embrace, grateful he’d been kept safe all those years in Afghanistan and wherever else he’d gone that he never mentioned and wouldn’t talk about. When he let me go, his eyes were sly again.
“First thing on your agenda has to be making friends with women we’re not related to.”
“You’re not using me to get dates, Jed.”
“Then what’s the point of you coming home?”
THIRTY-THREE
ty
After walkingdown the aisle at the Methodist church three times, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it again for the wedding tomorrow morning. The wedding party had to stand on a dais at the front of the sanctuary, and it was those four little steps up to it that killed me. Up and down, up and down I’d gone, gritting my teeth that something so simple could cause so much pain. Today would have been a good contender for those pain meds I’d set aside weeks ago, if it weren’t for all the lightheadedness that came with it. Didn’t seem wise to risk fainting dead away in the middle of the church.
June watched me too closely for me to think she’d missed my discomfort—she picked up on everything. But between listening to the preacher’s sneak peek at his mini-sermon about love being patient, kind, and understanding, and the wedding coordinator’s determination to keep us all moving with military precision, June hadn’t found a chance to say anything much to me at the church.
That was likely to change. I pulled up in front of the Robinsons’ massive old Queen Anne home where cars were already parked three deep in the curved driveway. Booker’s parents liked throwing parties even more than mine did, and they’d invited most of the guest list to the rehearsal dinner. From the looks of their trampled lawn, they had a full house.
Laughter drifted from the open front door that led into the heart of the house. I walked through, nodding to guests I knew here and there, but not in much of a mood to talk. My chest hurt like blazes, and with all the excitement of getting to the church on time this afternoon, I’d forgotten to take my double dose of ibuprofen. I’d figured I would make a quick appearance and high-tail it back out again, until the smell hit me.
Walking into the Robinsons’ kitchen was like stepping into a tidal wave of every delicious food smell I could think of. Fried chicken, biscuits, some kind of pie, and I didn’t know what else. Platters were ferried out to the back yard as fast as Beverly Robinson could spoon them up. Chloe winked as she scooted by me, cradling a heaping bowl of homemade macaroni and cheese that had my mouth watering from a single glance.
I supposed I could stick around a little while.
Beverly turned and spotted me. “Ty! What are you doing hanging back there, come on in.”
I moved closer to kiss her on the cheek.
She patted me lightly on the shoulder with a meaningful look at my chest. “Booker told us you got hurt. How are you doing, honey?”
