Wish Upon a Wedding

by LuAnn McLane

  Not knowing quite how to respond, Sophia put the head of lettuce on the island. Would he ever want her to be more? They’d already established a real connection that went beyond being friends. The attraction was there and it was mutual. But she thought after sharing the hot kiss that they might take their fake relationship into real territory. She felt her heart do a little tap dance in her chest at the thought. “We’re already close friends, Avery.” She washed the head of lettuce beneath the tap and set it on the cutting board to make a wedge salad.

  “I was joking,” Avery said with a slight frown. “Surely you know how much I care about you.” He hesitated as if to say more but took another swallow of his drink. “Of course we’re friends,” he finally added. “You know that, right?”

  “Oh, I do.” Sophia suddenly wanted to ask him what was really on his mind but she didn’t want to scare him off by getting too serious and ruining the playful mood. That would put a damper on the rest of the evening. “I’m sorry. You already know I’m an overthinker. Worry is my middle name. Sophia Worry Gordon. That’s me. Worry swirls around in my brain and sometimes I come to a conclusion that isn’t really there.” She made a twirling motion above her head. “My mother thought my frequent frowns was depression and I suppose in a way it is because worry can turn me into a Debbie Downer.”

  “I find you to be upbeat and pleasant, Sophia. I don’t think of you as a Debbie Downer at all. In fact, you light up the room when you enter. You have a quiet way about you but you sure do make me smile. You make everyone smile.”

  “I’ve tried hard to overcome the whole worry thing but it rears its ugly head now and again.”

  “Worry is another sign that you care, Sophia. One of the many good qualities that I love about you.”

  She lifted one shoulder and tried to ignore the words “love” and “you” in the same sentence. “Oh, I know. I sure would rather fret than not give a fig.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “But I tend to think about what the worst-case scenario could possibly be. As a hair stylist that can be stressful,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “When doing color I’m still a little bit afraid that the result would be something crazy, like green or orange, even though I check the formula several times. Like I keep checking the lasagna every few minutes.”

  “And did unexpected color ever happen?”

  “Oh yes, it’s bound to happen from time to time. There are too many variables. Clients tended to fudge about doing home hair color or if they colored their hair at all. And then other factors come into play, like if they are taking any medication, things like that.”

  “So what did you do if the color came out all wrong?”

  “I fixed it.”

  Avery smiled. “Well, there you go. I can tell you from personal experience that most broken things can be fixed.”

  Sophia chuckled. “I would imagine that you can. There’s got to be such satisfaction in what you do.”

  “There is.” He nodded, but a bit of a shadow crossed his face and she wondered if he was thinking that there are some things that can’t be patched up, like a relationship. But then he brightened. “So tell me a mess-up story.”

  “Well . . . I can tell you some of those.” Sophia took a sip of her wine and then licked her bottom lip. “But once in a blue moon the mistake became something the client ends up loving.” She chuckled. “And of course I’d act like it was intentional. It could happen with a cut too. ‘Oops’ isn’t something you ever want a hair stylist to say.”

  “I would imagine not. You know, I never really thought about the fact that your job can be super stressful.”

  She nodded. “And physically demanding too. I’ve had rotator cuff issues from so much blow-drying.” She put her glass down and demonstrated the rolling motion. “And even though I had an assistant for a few years, I get carpal tunnel syndrome that causes numbness and tingling in my fingers. And I’m still young.”

  “And being on your feet all day long doesn’t help.”

  “Oh, for sure.” Sophia nodded. “A lot of stylists are going with stools now, but I never could get used to one. And of course I worry that we’re exposed to a lot of chemicals, which are a part of the business that can’t be avoided. I’ve made extra sure that White Lace and Promises has ample ventilation.”

  “I didn’t really think about that either. Well, and of course hair is such a big deal to people too. I never really liked having curly hair. When I was a kid I would get it all buzzed off.”

  “I love your curly hair!” Sophia walked over and ran her fingers through it. “It’s so nice that you take an interest in what I do. Honestly, I think that people take their hair stylists somewhat for granted.”

  “You’re right. I think we take a lot of people in the service industry for granted. It’s a hard job—you have to be precise and creative at the same time.”

  “Oh boy, it can be really nerve-racking when someone comes in and asks for a particular cut, you give it to them, and then they hate it. It’s usually going from very long to very short. I had a girl with waist-long hair insist that I cut it off into a supershort pixie. I begged her to do a gradual change but she seemed so sure. . . .”

  “I’m feeling an unhappy ending.”

  “Oh, Avery, she burst into noisy tears. And then I started to cry.” She shook her head at the memory and had to take a sip of her wine.

  “Did she come back to you?”

  “Yes.” Raising her eyebrows, she nodded. “And guess what.”

  “She’s kept it short ever since.”

  “You guessed correctly. I’m probably boring you with my stories.”

  “Sophia, I enjoy listening to you as much as I enjoy watching you. In fact, I enjoy being with you, period.”

  “Well, the feeling is totally mutual,” Sophia said. “And of course, being a hair stylist requires being a good listener. For many clients getting their hair done is such a pleasure. And it should be a really good experience from start to finish.”

  “So go on. Tell me more.”

  “Well, some people aren’t all that good at communicating what they want.”

  “Then a picture is helpful, right?”

  Sophia sliced through the head of lettuce. “Not always. The problem is that the photo is usually of some gorgeous celebrity and the client often thinks that getting the same hairstyle will totally transform them into looking like the actress.”

  Avery laughed. “So they think you can work miracles.”

  “Sometimes, I do. A new haircut or color can make all the difference. And product. At first, I hated trying to sell styling products, because I felt as if the client thought I was trying to push things on them but you can’t re-create what I do in the chair if you don’t have quality products at home.”

  “True. It’s called maintenance and it’s one of the reasons I do so many repairs on appliances.”

  “Oh, I didn’t ask—do you like a wedge salad with bleu cheese dressing, bacon, and avocado?” She was enjoying the conversation while she prepared the final stages of dinner. Going out with Avery was fun but this was just so relaxing and intimate.

  “Sure do. It’s one of my mom’s favorites. She makes it now and then.”

  “Oh good,” Sophia said, thinking she would love to meet his parents. “I know that healthier salads with dark greens, like kale, are all the rage but I just love this one. I had it at Wine and Diner a few days ago with Grace and had forgotten how much I enjoyed this classic. Cold iceberg lettuce, the tang of bleu cheese . . . and of course bacon makes everything better. But I should have asked if you liked it. Bleu cheese is one of those love it or hate it kind of dressings. Personally, I like a wide variety of foods but I tend to drift toward older recipes.”

  “I’ve noticed that you like older music as well.”

  Sophia nodded and once again f
elt a rush of pleasure that he paid attention to what she preferred. “Oh, I enjoy pop music but fifties and sixties music is by far my favorite. My mother says that I’m an old soul. Even the updos and makeup I do usually have an older, classic look.” She waved her hand through the air. “This apartment came furnished and I can’t wait to have a place where I can put my personal stamp on it. I’m doing that with White Lace and Promises. But I also like trying new things.” She smiled. “Well, maybe I should say new . . . old things. Anything retro captures my attention.”

  “I know how you feel. I’m having fun restoring my house. Old wood and worn brick has much more character and warmth than something brand-new. I’d much rather restore or repurpose a piece of furniture than buy something in a furniture store.”

  “Oh, I love thrift shopping! I adore anything vintage, including jewelry.”

  “Something else we have to do together. Cricket Creek is full of antiques shops up on Main Street but there are also other small towns close by that would be a fun day trip.”

  Sophia nodded, feeling excited at the prospect.

  “I don’t love only old stuff, though. I do like to try new entrées in restaurants.”

  “Me too!” she agreed, but then chuckled. “My mother would get miffed at me sometimes when we’d go out to dinner and I’d order something that I ended up hating.” She sliced through the lettuce and put the wedges on small plates. “And I’d nearly always tried something different, which of course ran the risk of not liking it.”

  “But how do you know if you don’t try it, right?”

  “Exactly! We think alike.”

  “So, would she make you eat it if you didn’t like it?”

  “No, she would nearly always trade with me. People think of my mother as being this glamorous fashion icon but she grew up in working-class London. She’s actually very down-to-earth.”

  “Your mother sounds like a really cool lady. I’d like to spend some time with her, Sophia. And I think it’s really great that she and Jimmy Topmiller run the fishing camp for underprivileged kids.”

  “I have to say that I’ve never seen my mom this happy. Do you want chopped tomato on your salad?”

  “I do. Would you like for me to do anything? I’m feeling useless sitting over here watching you work.”

  “No, but thank you. And this isn’t work, Avery. I’ve enjoyed putting the dinner together for you.” She drizzled the dressing over the wedges and sprinkled on the diced tomatoes and bacon crumbles. After adding the croutons she said, “Would you like to eat the salads first or with your lasagna?” She started slicing a loaf of French bread and glanced over at the oven.

  “First would be fine. Okay, I can’t stand it. I’ve got to do something. I’ll take the salads to the table and slice the bread while you get the lasagna out of the oven.”

  Sophia laughed. “Okay, I’ll take you up on that. And if you don’t mind, would you fill the goblets with water?” She nodded to the long-stemmed glasses on the counter.

  “I don’t mind at all.” He took the salads to the small high-top table in the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, in here or in the dining room?”

  “I think the kitchen is cozy, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Avery nodded. When he passed her to fill the glasses with water he paused to kiss her lightly on the lips. While he performed his tasks Sophia took the pan out of the oven and put the lasagna on the counter to cool just a bit before serving it. She noticed that Avery hummed while he sliced more of the bread and she thought to herself that they really did get along so well. She’d worried a little bit about having him for dinner, wondering if he would be relaxed in this intimate of a setting. After all, this wasn’t part of the warding off Ashley plan. But he seemed right at ease so she decided not to question the situation. Perhaps it was about time that she did more feeling and less analyzing.

  Sophia joined him at the table. “I’ll let the lasagna cool for a few more minutes before I slice it.”

  “It smells wonderful.” Avery nodded, and she noticed that he must have poured her a little more wine without her noticing it. “Oh, this dressing is really good, Sophia.”

  “Thanks. Salad dressing is really a lot easier to make than people think.”

  “You did all of this even though you had a late client. I’m amazed.”

  “Being a hair stylist taught me how to do tasks quickly and go from one thing to the next. It’s all about timing.” She took a bite of her salad. “Mmmm, and it’s also all about bacon.”

  He grinned. “It sure is. I didn’t know if I’d like the avocado, but I do.”

  “Oh good. I also didn’t really think about the fact that we had the calzone for lunch so we are likely to go into an Italian food coma.”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I can eat Italian six days a week and not get tired of it.”

  “What about the seventh day?”

  “Anything with barbecue sauce on it. Ribs, chicken . . .” He shrugged. “And fresh produce. We’re lucky to have so many local farms still around. And a lot of younger people are buying them up these days with the farm-to-table movement getting stronger.”

  “I love going to the farmers’ market.” She rolled her eyes. “But I do have a weakness for French fries.”

  Avery took a bite of his salad and said, “We’ll have to go to the farmers’ market when it’s harvest time. But we can do some thrift shop bargain hunting before that. I need a coffee table for my living room, and I’d love for you to help me decorate.”

  “I’d love to.” Sophia tried not to read anything into his innocent comment since he was talking about several months from now. But she couldn’t help herself.

  “Maybe you’d like to go fishing when the weather warms up?”

  “I’ve never been fishing but my mother sure seems to enjoy it.”

  “I’ll have to introduce you to the great outdoors.”

  “I’m more adventurous than I look,” she said. “You can introduce me to the outdoors all you like, and then I’ll take you to New York. The city is an adventure in and of itself.”

  “You have a deal.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “No, and to tell you the truth I’d love to go to London, too, since you know your way around there. Looks like we’ve got a lot of exploring to do.”

  “That we do.” Sophia’s brain started to fast-forward. They went on to talk about other things while they ate their dinner but her mind kept drifting back to some of the comments he’d made that indicated he wanted a future with her. She told herself not to read too much into one kiss, one intimate dinner. Previously, she’d felt like Avery was holding back.

  But tonight felt different.

  “Are you ready for the lasagna?” she asked.

  “Yes, but sit still and let me get it. Would you like more wine while I’m up?” He scooted his chair back.

  “Yes, thanks,” she said, thinking with the stress of opening White Laces and Promises it had been a while since she’d felt this relaxed. She watched Avery make himself at home in her kitchen and smiled. She could really get used to this.

  Avery topped off her wine, and then brought over plates of lasagna.

  “Thank you,” Sophia said, hoping he liked her recipe.

  “Oh wow, this is amazing,” he said after taking a big bite. “Don’t tell my mother but this is better than hers.”

  Sophia laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. I have a veggie one that I like too. I’ll make that one for you one evening.”

  “Only if you come over to my place and let me grill something for you. I’m not what you would call a great cook but I can barbecue with the best of them. I have a gas grill but I still prefer to use charcoal. Brings back memories of childhood when we’d roast marshmallows after dinner. My dad was on the road a lot and those nights were really special.�
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  “It must have been difficult having your dad gone so much.”

  A shadow passed over his face. “It was, but I didn’t really get how hard it was for him too. I need to make an effort to get closer to my father,” he said but then smiled. “But now I realize how special those summer nights were to us. Zoe and I would run around the backyard seeing who could catch the most lightning bugs.”

  “That sounds like fun, Avery.”

  “Then we’ll do it soon,” he said. They talked about a variety of subjects while they ate but even the silence felt natural. There was also an undercurrent of sexual tension, an awareness that had her wondering how in the world she could find watching Avery eat so very sexy.

  When Sophia got up to clear the table Avery joined her, taking dishes to the sink and putting away condiments. Each time they brushed by each other Sophia wanted to grab him and kiss him.

  “Can I help you do the dishes?”

  “I’ll just rinse them and put them in the dishwasher,” she said, but then slapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh no!”

  He appeared alarmed. “What?”

  “I forgot to make the dessert!”

  “You had me worried there for a minute. No big deal.”

  “Yes, but I have all of the ingredients and I wanted to impress you with my dessert-making skills instead of picking up something ready-made.”

  “I’m already totally impressed with your culinary expertise, Sophia. What were you going to make?”

  “Chocolate mousse.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a tall can. “Look, I even have whipped cream. Ugh, how could I have forgotten?”

  “Um, maybe because you worked all day and then prepared this big meal from scratch?” He took the can from her and tugged her into his arms. “Did I tell you how amazing you are?”

  Sophia looked into his eyes and shook her head. “No,” she answered softly. Her heart pounded and she smiled. “I would have remembered.”

  “You are incredibly amazing and I’m not going to let you forget it.” Dipping his head, he kissed her.

  The moment Avery’s lips touched hers she melted against him. She came up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, loving how he tasted and how it felt to have his strong body pressed against hers. When the delicious kiss finally ended, she wanted to tug his head back and start all over again.