In the same moment, Tyler’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter — so loud and insistent that it made the device crawl like a bug.
The name Azra indicated who the call was from, and my stomach dropped at the sight of her — of her long, black hair blowing in the breeze on the coast where she stood, her brown eyes wide and playful, her smile dazzling. She had eyebrows I would pay someone to tattoo on my face and still not be able to attain, and there was something sensual about her, something that felt like a hot summer night in a foreign country. On top of tan legs that stretched on for days where they peeked out from the slit in her long, hot pink dress, it was painstakingly clear.
She was absolutely gorgeous.
And I’d wished I’d never had to see her.
Tyler quickly released me, sniffing like he’d just realized what he’d done at the same time Jacob’s name echoed inside me as if I had done something wrong, too. And without another word or glance in my direction, Tyler swiped his phone off the counter, answered with a quiet, “Hey there, beautiful,” and snuck out the door that led from the kitchen to the back porch, leaving me alone at the island.
I stared at the door he walked through with my heart hammering in my chest, with his words pricking my skin like tiny needles.
“Jazzy!” Morgan said, sweeping into the room all smiles. She wrapped me in a fierce hug, shaking me side to side. “I brought you lobster bisque from the best place on the Cape! How are you feeling?”
She appraised me when she pulled back, still holding me in her arms, and I tore my eyes from the back door to force a smile.
Then, I held up my right thumb, giving her the sign that I was feeling better, knowing in my gut that I was anything but good in that moment.
She clapped, hugged me again, and launched into all the details of her day.
And outside, there was the distant sound of something splashing into the pool.
Morgan was a tornado in human form.
She had always been this way, ever since the first day I met her — which just so happened to be my first day at Bridgechester Prep High School. It was Tyler who’d approached me first, who’d watched me from afar in the halls all morning and then made his way over to me, asking if I wanted to sit with him at lunch, asking who I was, where I’d come from.
Seeing me.
Sometimes, I dreamed about that day, and in such vivid detail that I woke up with a sheen of sweat on my chest. In the dream, I’d see Tyler exactly as he was that day — young, boyishly shy, charming in a way I hadn’t ever been exposed to. I could see the first smile he flashed me, hear the first time I made him laugh, see the curiosity in his eyes — curiosity that made heat bloom deep in my stomach, a fire that never did die.
We were only alone at that lunch table a few minutes before his sister swept in, taking a seat next to me at the cafeteria table and inspecting me so closely that I’d laughed nervously and tried to back away. But she wasn’t shy — not at all. She looked me over, smiled, and said, “Hi! I’m Morgan Wagner. This is my brother, Tyler.” I hadn’t even been able to tell her that we’d already introduced ourselves. “And we’re going to be best friends.”
She literally said those words — we’re going to be best friends.
And just like that, it was so.
I learned over the years that that was how Morgan worked. She didn’t make decisions based off logic or research or science. She believed, wholeheartedly and unfailingly, in feelings. She trusted her gut when it said not to do something, and trusted it even more when it said to do something. She decided who she was friends with and who she was not in a matter of minutes, and once her mind was made up, there was no changing it.
Which was why it was no surprise to me that the morning after my day of rest, with just ten days to go to the wedding, we had a completely packed schedule that was mostly comprised of planning the seating chart.
Because for Morgan, it wasn’t as simple as seat this family together, and seat that group of friends there, and make sure the grandparents can see the dance floor.
For Morgan, there was a synergy that would be created with that seating chart, a mood — one that would last all night and be the difference between a perfect wedding and a complete disaster.
Thankfully, I’d woken up with a voice that was still a little croaky, but much better than the day before. Therefore, I was prepped and ready to talk through all the reasons why someone should or shouldn’t sit somewhere.
Or rather, I was prepared to pose questions to Morgan, who would answer them and make up her own mind without input from me.
“What about Laurie and Chuck,” I suggested. “They’re so sweet, and not as rowdy as the others. They could carry conversation easy with people they don’t know without scaring them off.”
Morgan tapped her pencil to her lips, thinking. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” She penciled them into the table with Oliver’s cousins, and then sighed. “Now, what about the Brad and Olivia situation? They’re both such a huge part of the high school friend group, but since their break-up… I can’t put them together.”
“Separate the group in half. Give Brad half and Olivia half, and then fill the table with other odds and ends.”
“But Olivia will throw a fit that she’s not sitting with everyone.”
I grabbed Morgan’s arm in earnest. “Babe, everyone will be dancing. Aunt Laura and I will make sure of it. So, it’s only for dinner. She’ll survive.”
Morgan pouted, unsure.
“It’s your wedding day, remember?”
At that, she smiled and nodded, penciling in the new suggestions. “God, I’ve missed you. I swear, no one knows how to calm me and make me see reason the way you do.”
“Except Oliver.”
She smiled at that. “Yes. Except him.”
“You are one smitten kitten.”
“I really am. I disgust myself sometimes,” she admitted on a laugh. Then, her eyes were curious, and she bit her lip watching me. “How was hanging with my brother yesterday?”
I hadn’t expected the question, and I hoped like hell my face didn’t give anything away — like the fact that I’d spent half the night wondering what the hell had transpired between us. Here we hadn’t talked in seven years, we’d bickered nonstop for my first few days here, and then we’d somehow spent a day being… civil. I’d enjoyed talking to him, hearing a little about who he was now, the man instead of the boy.
But then he’d touched me, and he’d held me, and he’d whispered those same words he’d said all those years ago…
And I had no idea how I felt about it.
I shrugged. “It was alright. We didn’t really hang out, more like just existed in the same room. Watched some movies. Worked. You know,” I said, waving it off. “Just whatever.”
Morgan frowned, nodding. “Oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just… oh, never mind. Anyway, I can’t wait to meet Jacob! Is he as dreamy to look at in person as he is on Instagram and video chat?”
I chuckled, though I couldn’t help but be a little suspicious at the subject change. Had Tyler said something to her?