Page 112 of Fair Trade

My mother would be livid. She would stomp up those church steps and threaten anyone who dared to stand in the way of her and her baby girl.

God, I wish she were still here today. She would know exactly what to do.

Mateo’s eye catches on something. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Coach’s truck drive by.”

“Really? Maybe he can talk some sense into Daisy. Those two sometimes seem to have a language of their own. I mean, how else could anyone get Coach to spare them five minutes? The man rarely talks to anyone else,” Isa exclaims.

“Oh, he’ll dig up a few choice words for us anytime we need a swift kick in the ass mid-game, trust me,” Mateo muses.

I feel guilty. A few weeks ago, I married the love of my life, again, before our loved ones. Danced the night away barefoot until we could no longer stand on our feet. I enjoyed island life for a blissful week, creating experiences none of us will ever forget.

And my sister gets… this.

A venue that seems more suitable for a funeral than a wedding.

Even the skies have taken protest, breaking our week-long streak of sunny spring days and instead offering up the gloomiest sky known to man.

“It’s probably going to rain. And I’m sure we’re the last ones to enter the church. Which isn’t great, since we’re the only people among the hoard of social climbers here to represent Daisy’s side of the family. And yes, I’m not including your dad in that roundup,” Luisa harrumphs.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” I grumble.

My phone buzzes in my dress pants, and I use the interruption as an excuse to delay the inevitable.

I’m shocked when I see a text from Luke.

Confusion overwhelms me when I read what it says.

LUKE:

INCOMING. BRACE FOR CHAOS. CALL YOU IN 15 TO DEBRIEF.

I lift my phone and show it to the group. “I’m not close with the man, so can someone tell me if he moonlights as a spy? Or am I missing something else altogether?”

The women read the text in half a second. Must be a talent they’ve developed thanks to all the romance novels they read.

Their gasps take me by surprise.

So much so that I turn my phone around to reread the text, scrolling up and down to see if I missed something.

Their heads are now on a swivel, surveying the area as if they know something I don’t.

“Care to clue us in on what’s got you checking the area for snipers?” I ask, exasperated.

“Mateo, is that Coach’s truck?” Isa points at a vehicle at the corner of our block, turning our way.

“Yeah, it is. But I wonder why he’s heading in the opposite direction of the valet.”

The side windows are tinted. I’m sure those aren’t street legal, but it’s not the time for me to play boy scout.

The driver’s side window rolls down, and a grinning Luke comes into view. The sight alone has me taking a step back. I don’t think I’ve seen that man smile in the year that I’ve known him.

And, honestly, it seems like he’s a bit out of practice, because it’s looking quite feral from where I stand.

I lift my phone and point at it, hoping he can provide some damn context.

But he simply salutes us as he rolls by.

The women screech, jumping up and down in each other’s arms.