“Who’s Jed?”
“My ex, who is also the reverend’s son.” I give her the two-minute rundown.
“What a douchebag,” she mutters.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t even faze me anymore. I’m thankful.” If Jed hadn’t cheated on me, my life would be completely different. Unsatisfying. And I’d have no clue. “Everything happens for a reason.” I’ve never felt that saying more than when I look at Henry.
“So, does your mother know about me, then?”
“Noooo.” I punctuate that with a shaky laugh. How do I put this delicately? “Mama has a big mouth. We can’t trust that she’ll keep it quiet, and we want to protect you from all the media stuff for as long as we can. Plus, it’ll send Henry back five hundred pages in her good books. She’s already called him the devil on earth several times.”
Violet watches the houses pass. “Do you think Henry regrets what happened with my mom?” she asks quietly.
I hear the question she asks, but it’s the one she doesn’t ask aloud that lingers in the air between us. “The only regret Henry has where you’re concerned is that he didn’t know about you sooner.”
After a few beats, her dimples pop with a smile.
“So, you’re a cousin today, if you’re okay with that.”
“Oooh, can I be long-lost? Like, a brother and sister who came over from England only to be separated once they got here? Oh! Or maybe one of them died on the Titanic, leaving a child who was taken in by other survivors, only to discover their real lineage on their deathbed.”
I laugh. “That is the exact kind of bait we don’t need floating around out there for the media to pick up.”
Her shoulders sink with exaggeration. “Fine. Just plain old boring cousin it is.”
“Who made these?” Violet asks around a mouthful.
“Those are Aunt May’s famous Buffalo chicken pinwheels.” Mama demands them for every church event.
Violet’s paper plate is heaping with tea sandwiches, fresh-cut veggies, and home-baked treats. The hens—five church ladies who run all the social events around town—have been busy, helping organize this shower with the official host Celeste, who is at the food table, loading more pink lady squares onto a stand.
“Holy Christ, they are really good.” She lays a hand over her mouth, her eyes flittering around the beige hall, stalling on the wall-mounted cross. “I mean, holy moly.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry, no one heard you.” There are ninety-two guests at this bridal shower, and their collective chatter creates a steady buzz that can drown out any one voice from more than five feet away.
“Do you know all these people?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Most are churchgoers, and many were at Daddy’s homecoming party. “Those are my cousins over there, who were supposed to be my bridesmaids.” I jut my chin toward Joy, Diana, and Angela, huddled by the punch bowl. Angela’s greeting was sour, but I let it roll off my shoulders. If she’s offended, that’s on Mama. Besides, they all should have known better than to accept an invitation to be in a bridal party from anyone but the bride herself.
“What happened?”
“Mama happened. Long story. I’ll tell you on the way to Pittsburgh after this.”
“Deal. Where are your bridesmaids, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to come to these things?”
“Margo is literally strutting down a runway right now.” She couldn’t get out of that contract, and I would never ask her to. I had no idea the brat ordered two hundred bars of Farm Girl soap as shower favors until half an hour ago when I saw them stacked on a table. She swore Annie to secrecy. “Autumn had to cancel last minute because of a funeral, and there was no way I was subjecting Ronan to this. Plus, Mama has no idea that he’s in my party, and she likely won’t approve.” She still doesn’t understand why I’d choose friends over family.
Violet mouths “Oh” as she peers at Mama, standing among a group of ten women. She’s wearing a new outfit—a green gingham dress crafted from the “fine fabric” I refused to use for my bridesmaids, she informed me. “She might not like Henry, but she seems to be having a good time.”
“That’s because she’s the center of attention.” After all, it’s her daughter who’s marrying the handsome billionaire hotel owner whom everyone is fascinated with—whether they’ll admit to it or not.