Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
The living room was loud and chaotic as everyone rushed to hug Cole and Cheyenne, and Moretti popped open a bottle of champagne. I set Mariah on her feet. “I’ll be right back,” I told her, moving for the door again.
“Beckett!” boomed Griffin as glasses of bubbly were being poured. “Where do you think you’re going? Get over here!”
Reluctantly, I went over and grabbed a glass along with everyone else, raising it high as Moretti shouted, “To the bride and groom!”
“To the bride and groom!” everyone chorused. But I barely took one sip before setting it aside and rushing out of the room.
Out on the patio, I searched the crowd for Maddie’s blue dress, but didn’t see her. I made my way toward the rows of chairs, where a few people still sat chatting, but she wasn’t among them. Turning around, I looked at the dozens of people milling around the yard, waiting in line at the bar, and wandering into the tent, but I saw no sign of her.
Concerned, I scanned the crowd again, this time hunting for my father. I spotted him heading for the tent with Mr. and Mrs. Moretti and took off jogging toward them.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, catching his arm. “Where’s Maddie?”
He thought for a moment. “She had to go somewhere.”
“Did she say where?” I asked impatiently.
He appeared to concentrate hard. “Yes, but I forget.”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe the bathroom?”
“Maybe.”
Mrs. Moretti turned around. “Oh, hi Beckett. Are you looking for Maddie?”
“Yes.”
“She said she just had to make a phone call and she’d be right back,” Mrs. Moretti said. “We offered to show Eugene where we’re sitting. He’s at our table.”
“Thanks.” I looked at my dad. “You okay out here on your own for a bit? I have to take some pictures.”
“Of course I am,” he said, as if I’d offended him.
“Okay, but stay in the backyard. Don’t wander anyplace.”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” said Mrs. Moretti, catching my eye to let me know she understood.
“Thanks.” I flashed her a grateful smile. “And when you see Maddie, could you tell her I’m looking for her?”
“Sure thing.” She winked at me. “Beautiful girl.”
“Yes.” And not just beautiful, I thought, watching for her as I hurried back through the guests on my way to the house. She was smart and caring and funny and generous and sweet, and if I didn’t make things right with her, she was never going to let me be her safe place again.
I wanted to be so much more.
When I didn’t spot her on the patio, I quickly checked the front porch and the downstairs bathroom. I was about to go upstairs and peek into the bedrooms when Bianca spotted me.
“Here he is!” she called.
“Beck, we’re waiting on you!” Cole shouted.
Stopping with one foot on the bottom step, I exhaled and turned around. “Sorry,” I said, heading into the living room.
“Okay, let’s go out to the front,” Cheyenne directed. “I want a photo with the entire wedding party in front of the house.”
As the photographer herded us all out the front door, Moretti fell in step with me. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Bianca says you had a come-to-Jesus moment before the ceremony.”
I almost laughed. “I don’t know about that, but she did help me see something more clearly. I just need to find Maddie so I can try to explain myself.”
“You can’t find her?”
I shook my head. “She’s not with my dad, and he forgot where she went. Mrs. Moretti thinks she went to make a phone call. Who could she be calling?”
“Maybe Elliott?”
“Okay, groomsmen, over here please,” the photographer’s assistant called.
For the next thirty minutes, I managed to plaster what I hoped was a pleasant expression on my face for photographs. But the entire time, I was thinking of Maddie, working up the nerve to say to her what I’d said to Bianca. By the time the photographer announced she was done, my stomach was in knots.
“Hey, you.” Bianca and Moretti fell in step beside me as we all walked around the house into the yard. “Did you think about what I said?”
I nodded. “Yes. And you were right.”
“Don’t say that to her.” Moretti slung an arm around his wife’s neck. “She’ll get smug.”
Bianca smiled with self-satisfaction. “In this case, there was no denying it. And Beckett clearly needed better romantic advice than you guys were giving him.”
Moretti was indignant. “Hey, I think I’m pretty good at romantic advice.”
His wife laughed. “Says the guy who proposed with a secondhand engagement ring without bothering to have the original inscription removed.”
“I made up for that, didn’t I?”
“You did,” she said as we approached the tent. “But we’re not talking about you right now. We’re talking about Beckett. So what now?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Do you need me to give you lines?” Moretti asked.
“No,” his wife scolded. Then she looked at me. “She doesn’t want to hear lines. She wants to hear the truth—how you feel for her, what you want—in your own words. Tell her exactly what you told me.”