by Emily Childs
“You don’t know what he’s been told,” Olive pipes up. “You don’t know anything about him.”
“It’s okay, baby,” Rafe says softly.
I smirk. Of course, Olive wouldn’t stay quiet about this. She’s known Rafe and August since they were all kids. Even more than my family, she’s born witness to the hurt my uncle left behind.
“Looks to me like there’s an entire family you don’t know,” August says, surprising me. August isn’t one who jumps into contention. He takes Brin from Lily, then snatches his wife’s hand. “Excuse us, we’re going to eat and see the bride and groom. This is Will’s and Maddie’s day.”
I hug my middle to hide my shaking hands and start to follow my cousins. After a few paces, I hear Jed lower his voice.
“You just going to let them walk away, Millie?”
For half a breath I consider wheeling on Jed, playing the hero, and rescuing sweet Millie Whitfield. But I’m soon reminded if anyone doesn’t need rescuing its Millie.
She chuckles and takes a step away. “Oh, Jed. Did you not notice those boys are grown men? Frankly, if they don’t want to talk to you, seems to be your problem. Not mine.”
I smile. The same as my cousins, I’ll put this weirdness aside. I figure if they can focus on the wedding instead of a surprise deadbeat dad visit, then I can. Like August said, today is about Will and Maddie.
It’s going to be a good day.
Will and Maddie are about the most perfect couple anyone can be. I danced all evening. I even got to sneak a double dance with Rafe and August to check on them, what with Jed being in attendance until the end.
“He told Mama he wants to talk with us,” August grumbled as he spun me back and forth with his brother.
“What are you going to do?”
“Let him know how it feels,” Rafe insisted. “Do you know how many times I wanted to talk with him growing up.”
August had remained quiet for a moment, but eventually admitted he wasn’t opposed to considering the idea. Rafe didn’t like it, I could tell, but one thing about those two is they always respect each other’s position regarding their daddy.
I think my own daddy had a chat with Aunt Anneliese and her willy-nilly invitations, but for the most part the massive elephant in the room didn’t implode the wedding and not a half hour ago we sent the bride and groom off into the sunset through a flurry of petals and sparklers.
I plop into my car, breathing in the leather seats and wisteria in the centerpiece I was forced to take. With the heel of my hand, I wipe away a few tears and start the ignition. Another night of love and I’m off to see the cat.
Until my phone dings with a new text.
My breath catches at the name. I hate when it does that because there isn’t a good reason. Really, there isn’t.
Office Scrooge: Emergency redraft! A new rezone came through on the McNally bridge. Updated plans are needed ASAP. Very time sensitive. As in overtime pay sensitive.
I snort a laugh. “Gee Colm, I wonder if this project is time sensitive.”
With a glance at the clock on my dash, my shoulders slump a bit. It’s only nine, and there isn’t anything exciting waiting for me at home except Mr. Snob. Looks like a late night at the office—after my brother’s wedding—it is. My life is epically glamorous.
The office is only two miles from my house, the best commute in the world. I don’t mind working late. Honestly, some of my best work is done in solitude.
The McNally bridge is a large project and the one I need to nail down if I’m going to prove I can be promoted to an engineer without the word junior in front of my title. I’m a month away from earning my civil engineering degree, and coupled with my first degree in project management, plus a win on the bridge, I’ll be good for a hefty pay raise and new title.
If the darn city council would quit causing me grief with all their changes to the project. That’s the thing about working with cities and counties, they need to discuss every screw, every piece of steel.
As expected the office is dim and quiet. I grab a bottled water from the mini fridge, then settle into my coat-closet office and set to work. An hour in, I’m singing my own praises. Colm better give me a raise because I’m making solid progress on these requested changes. I’d like to see Anthony, the lead engineer, figure his way around these regulations. Tony is fine, but he’s complacent. He stopped thinking outside the box years ago.
With my headphones in, music blaring, I don’t hear the ding of the lobby doors, or the swish of footsteps across the carpet.
Because of those details, I’ll maintain until the day I die that when a strange hand grips my shoulder, I was fully justified turning into a ninja, snatching the mini mace on my purse, facing my surprise assailant, and spraying every, last drop smack in his eyes.
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