Mine to Take (Southern Weddings #5)(36)

sofia





“As you can see,” I say as we walk into the big venue space, “we can accommodate up to a thousand people.” The bride and groom look at me with big eyes. “There are walls that retract on both ends.” I point at the walls of the slide, making the space bigger. “Or we can make it more intimate by closing two more retractable walls.” I point over to the side where two more walls are now open but can be closed.

The bride walks around the space, taking it in as I stand to the side giving her time. My head has been in a spin since they walked in. I’m trying not to think about the reason it’s in a spin, but that reason showed up ten minutes before the couple arrived. I had no time to compartmentalize it. I can still hear his voice. “You look beautiful.” I wanted to turn around and throw my phone at his car, but I refrained and pretended it didn’t get to me. What the hell was happening to me? I went two years perfectly okay without him, and now it’s as if no time has been lost. “Would we be able to come back with our parents?” the bride asks excitedly.

“Of course,” I answer her. “We can even do a setup with tables so they would get the look of it.” She looks over at the groom, who stares at her with such love in his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think that if this is what you want”—he smiles even bigger at her—“then this is it.” He looks over at me. “What do we need to do next?”

I nod at them and proceed to tell them the next steps. They sit in my office as we go through a couple of things. It’s after seven by the time they leave and I lock the door, walking back to my office to finish the paperwork. I sit down at my desk, looking down, knowing I can do this in the morning and I’m just stalling at this point.

When I got the text on Saturday, I ignored the pull to answer him right away. I put it down and walked away, spending the weekend with my family. Riding my horse, catching up with my cousins, going to the bar on Saturday night, and two-stepping until my feet hurt. I drank way too much, which ended up with the memories of him that I locked away coming out in full force. Sunday was spent at the family barbecue where I laughed more than I have in a long time. That night, I decided I was going to ignore the text and pretend that it didn’t happen. I even deleted the thread so I wouldn’t be tempted to answer him. In my head, there was nothing to talk about even though, according to my mother, I needed closure.

I stare at my phone for what seems like forever. “What if I don’t text him?” I wonder. “What is the worst that can happen?” I lean back in my chair and look out the window at the darkness. “He shows up tomorrow and forces you to talk to him in front of the girls.” I close my eyes and decide to bite the bullet. Might as well get this over with. I think of texting him, but then I would just be waiting on him to answer me.

I take the deepest breath I’ve ever taken before I press the button to call him. “Please don’t answer,” I beg the universe to help me out. One ring turns into two and my heart starts beating really fast. “I’m hanging up after three rings,” I mumble to myself as the second ring stops, and as soon as the third one starts, he picks up.

“Hey,” he says, his voice groggy, and it sounds like he was sleeping.

“You’re sleeping?” I say softly, my neck feeling warm as the nerves float through me. “I should have texted you instead.” The words come out of my mouth instead of staying in my head.

He laughs and something else goes on inside me, but I’m not going to pay any attention to it. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t have answered you?”

“No,” I say, laughing nervously. I know I’m lying and sadly I know that he also knows it was a lie. “Why don’t we do this tomorrow?” I try to push it off.

“Can’t,” he says right away, and I hear rustling from his side of the phone. “I have a game tomorrow.” I close my eyes.

“We can do this next week.” I am literally pulling at straws to cancel this thing all together. “Or how about the week after next?” I swing in my chair side to side, trying to come up with even more reasons.

“Are you done?” he asks and I stop mid swing.

“I am,” I start but then quickly add in, “But you sound exhausted.” My voice goes low.

“I’m fine. I can rest later.” His voice sends shivers running through me and I feel bad for not answering him before. Maybe we could have had this conversation on the phone and not face-to-face.

“Matthew.” His name rolls off my tongue so naturally. I think it’s the first time I’ve called him that since he came into my life again. “We can honestly do it another time. I promise I won’t blow you off or pretend I’m sick.” I chuckle. “Or someone died.”

“No, it’s fine,” he says adamantly. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I have no idea.” I think of places that we can meet at. Maybe I could mention Luke’s place, but then what if we run into people I know or who know Harlow or the girls, and then it’s like front page news?

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. I am already shaking my head, but curiosity gets the best of me.

“Where is here?” I close my eyes once I say the words. It’s none of my business where here is. Since the engagement was called off, is he living in a hotel? Did she move out of the house? Did he move out of the house? There are so many questions I want to ask, but I also know it’s none of my business.