He stiffened, knowing the answer wasn’t one he wasn’t willing to share and for once at a loss of words for how to make another excuse for his behavior. Before he had a chance to answer, a look of recognition seemed to pass through her eyes and her cheeks turned a shade redder. She broke his stare, looking around at the various tables. “I…I think I need a glass of champagne. What’s a wedding without it?” She gave a laugh that sounded as nervous as he felt.
He grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and held one to her. “I’d suggest we find our table, but it looks like we have our pick. Should we claim our spots early?”
“Before we get stuck sitting with your parents, you mean?”
He grinned. “Exactly.” It was refreshing, this easy conversation they had, and enjoyable too. Not quite as fun as working her up, seeing her lips pinch and her eyes blaze as she was prone to do back in high school, but as she had pointed out, they weren’t in high school anymore. They’d grown up. And she had grown even more beautiful.
He let her lead the way, her long hair grazing her bare back as she finally stopped at a table closest to the pond. “I just love weeping willows,” she sighed.
He wasn’t aware that he was staring at her until her brow pinched and she said, “Let me guess. You have fifteen facts up your sleeve for why I should not love that particular kind of tree.”
He decided to humor her. It was easier to fall back on their old dynamic. Safer too. Back then it had been a way to guard his heart. Something he’d lost sight of in recent weeks.
“And what is it about a drooping, sad-looking tree that makes you love it so much?” he asked as they slipped into their seats at a table with two other couples, both slightly older than they were and likely out-of-town guests.
She just shook her head at him and gave a little smile. “They’re so romantic.”
Well, she had managed to officially silence him there. He glanced over at the pond in the distance, at the eaves that were grazing the water’s surface, and then back to the girl sitting beside him, who was casually sipping her champagne with one hand, brushing a loose strand of hair off her neck with the other.
The last two seats of their table were soon filled, and introductions were made. Doug didn’t bother to glance around the tent to see where his mother was sitting—he didn’t need to. He could feel her stare from three tables over, sense it in his periphery.
He told himself she just wanted the best for him. Wanted him to settle down, find the kind of love and life that she and his father had. They made it look so easy, but he knew better than that.
With a large smile, he waved directly at his mother, who looked a little startled by being caught. She gave a hesitant smile, then a very obvious look at Gabby. Let her believe what she would. At least for tonight, she could think her job was complete.
He turned back to the table. It was quickly established that, as he’d assumed, everyone else at the table was married, and, it would seem, happily so.
“And how long have you two been together?” one woman asked once the main course had been brought to the table.
Gabby turned to him with wide eyes, as if expecting him to take this one, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of amusement pass through them. He supposed he deserved it.
“Gabby and I both grew up in Blue Harbor,” he said. Nothing dishonest there. “We really connected with the debate club, though.”
He gave her a challenging look, fighting off the twitch in his lips.
“Debate club?” This seemed to pique the interest of a few of their tablemates.
“I thought it would be good practice for law school,” Doug said. “But I don’t think I ever knew why you joined, Gabby.”
Her cheeks reddened and she didn’t meet his eye as she reached for her wineglass. “I overheard a guy I had a crush on mention that he planned to join the club. I joined, he did not. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
Doug peered at her, as the table gave a collective laugh, seeming to find this amusing.
“I learn something new about you every day,” he marveled in a low voice. “Chad’s loss was my gain.”
“Are you saying that debate club would have been less interesting if I wasn’t there?”
“Without a doubt.” He gave her a slow smile, sensing something growing between them, and felt a strange mix of enjoyment and wariness. “Oh, look. They’re cutting the cake. I know that’s your favorite part.”
She elbowed him. “You know me too well.”
He did. And everything new he learned was one more thing to like about her. And that was just the problem. Back in high school, a girl like Gabby wouldn’t have given him a second glance—like the rest, she had eyes for the jocks and the jerks. And now…now he wondered if she would, if he was willing.
When the toasts were finished and the cake was passed around, he said to her, “What do you say we take these plates and go look at the weeping willow trees you love so much?” He lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Between you and me, I can literally feel my mother’s eyes boring a hole through me right now. If I don’t move my neck to the left soon, I’m afraid I’m going to wake up with a kink in it.”
She laughed and quietly took her plate and fork, following him down the grass until they were finally hidden by the trees.
“Why is it exactly that
