Page 22 of Paint Our Song (Cloverlily #1)

T he next morning, he gets a text from Calvin asking how the rehearsal dinner went.

Me: Fucking terrible

Cat-vin: That bad?

Me: Some drunk guy jumped into the lake!! I think it was Bridget’s ex or something!!

After an unreasonably long time texting back-and-forth, Miles finally gets to work.

Breakfast and lunch time at the dining room are crowded, which is to be expected since all their rooms are booked for the wedding. Bridget’s running around with Jeff chasing her, and Miles has to hand it to Jeff—he seems to be the solid, patient counterpart to Bridget.

The wedding’s going to start at five p.m., which means they still have a lot of time to go. Bridget never got that memo, unfortunately. She’s hauling her wedding coordinator around, checking on table pieces, and making sure the wedding arch is set up at a place with a great view of the lake. The chairs are lined up beautifully and once the florist comes, it’s going to look even better.

Mom and Gabby are running around a lot as well. Megan’s here too, having snagged a uniform from the staff lounge, and taking videos of the place—something about a before and after video for the wedding set-up.

Miles really, really hopes that today goes well. He didn’t realize how badly his nerves would act up until this day. Though, when he spots Calvin in the lobby, his brain quiets down.

Calvin gives Miles a once-over. “You look nice.”

“I don’t.” He tugs at his white button-down shirt. There’s a black bow tie around his collar and he’s wearing a shiny name tag that says Miles Curtis, Assistant Manager. It’s the first time he’s worn it in years, and he definitely doesn’t deserve it.

“You do.” Calvin picks at some lint on Miles’s sleeve and uprights his bow tie. He’s wearing his usual shirt and jeans combo, his glasses framing his eyes, and his hair is tousled like it usually is. And Miles thinks he looks way better than he himself ever could.

“How’d your song-writing go last night?” he asks. While the rehearsal dinner was going on, the band had been at the roof garden, working on their new song.

“Horrible. Chase said he wanted a go at the lyrics, and he started singing about Cassidy.”

Miles snorts. He’s about to ask if he can at least get a glimpse of whatever they’ve already worked on when Bridget’s shrill voice startles both of them. With rollers in her hair, she marches up to Miles. Behind her, Jeff is mouthing an apology.

“There’s a traffic jam on the highway! A container truck fell over—nobody’s hurt, thank goodness, but people can’t get here. Even our florist isn’t here yet!”

“Oh… uh.” Damn, he’s not equipped for this. Miles checks his watch. Also, there’s a florist downtown, and they should’ve gone local. He has a hunch Bridget will claw at him if he says that, though. “We’ve got three hours to go. They have time.”

“You…!” Bridget gasps, clasping at her hair rollers. “That’s not enough time at all! This isn’t enough! Where’s your mom? Where’s Gabby!?”

“Where’s your wedding coordinator?”

That wasn’t the greatest thing to say. Bridget’s eyes widen, and she lets out another weirdly loud gasp, and suddenly she’s crowding him. For fuck’s sake. He’s way taller than her, and he’s still petrified, backing away with his hands in the air. She hisses, “Are you making fun of me!?”

“Okay.” Jeff puts a hand on her arm and turns her around. “Breathe, babe. This isn’t Miles’s fault.”

“Sorry. You’re right. I apologize.” She groans and nods. Turning away from Miles, her eyes widen when she notices Calvin standing there. “Oh my god, hi. I’m a huge fan.”

Calvin smiles. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

She approaches Calvin with an honestly frightening kind of enthusiasm, pulling out her phone and giggling. At least Calvin’s presence calmed her down .

“This—this is so cool. I knew you were posting about the inn, but I didn’t know you were still here. Can I get a photo? Can I call my friends? They adore you!”

“Ohhh.” Jeff’s jaw drops. “ This is Calvin Lowe? I think we saw each other at the bonfire before. I thought you were Miles’s friend.”

A chuckle. “I am Miles’s friend.”

Bridget giggles. “Our band’s still stuck on the freeway. Any chance you’d want to perform?”

“I—”

“Babe.” Jeff steers her away and smiles sheepishly at Calvin. “She’s kidding. Have a good day.”

Once the couple’s left, Calvin says, “That went great. You really know how to talk to brides.”

Miles takes a deep breath. “Thank god I’m gay.”

“Don’t say that. You might be as freaked out on your wedding day.”

He’s never thought about his hypothetical wedding day ever. In an attempt to keep it light, Miles teases, “Are you going to be in it?”

“Sure, if you need a band.”

“No, I meant—” Miles cuts himself off and glares. Calvin’s either horrible at this whole flirting thing, or he’s purposely trying to miss what Miles is saying. “You suck.”

“Do you think she was serious about needing a band? Chase and Gil should be around here somewhere.”

“No. No, it’ll be okay,” he says. “You’re a guest. Go do guest things.”

Rolling his eyes, Calvin walks backward toward the elevator. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Miles watches him disappear behind the elevator doors. Just that short, simple conversation with him was enough to fuel his energy for the rest of the day. This is going to be the best damn wedding Ridgeford’s ever seen.

Which, of course, it isn’t.

Everything only goes downhill as the hours tick by.

The florist, the band, the photographers and videographers—they’re all stuck on the damn freeway, and Bridget’s lower lip is quivering as she tries not to bawl. It’ll ruin her make-up, her maid-of-honor tells her.

At least the cake’s accounted for. Matthew arrives an hour before the wedding starts, delivering a three-tier cake. Miles doesn’t know much about cakes, but it looks beautiful. The staff puts it on a table that’s set-up under the massive outdoor tent meant for the wedding party. While the tables, chair, and a stage are already prepared, the tent still looks awfully empty without any flowers.

That traffic jam should clear up soon. Hopefully.

“There are some teenagers out front very excitedly talking about how a bridesmaid freaked out about a stained dress,” Matthew tells Miles.

“Why the heck are they excited about that?”

“Because their livestream now has a hundred viewers. Wedding fiascos are an interesting drama, I guess. I swear to god, everything’s a livestream these days.”

“They’re live streaming this? Our inn’s being watched right now?” His hands are suddenly very, very cold. “What the hell? ”

Matthew eyes him. “Teenagers are something else. It’s not your inn’s fault. “

“Watch it become our fault, anyway. Jesus.” He breathes in, attempting to calm himself.

“Matthew!” Gabby strides up to them. Her hair’s tied back, and she’s wearing a uniform similar to Miles. “Are you staying?”

“No?”

“You’re staying,” she says, not-so-gently prodding him toward the inn. “We’ve got extra uniforms. Go get changed. I think your old name tag’s still here, from when you worked with us for summer vacations. We need more people who are familiar with the inn—these part-timers don’t know what’s going on.”

“Fine. But you both owe me one.” Sighing, Matthew sluggishly and defeatedly nods.

“The florists arrived, thank goodness.” She points to a group scurrying about with boxes of flowers in their arms. One of them is handing out bouquets to the bridal party. “Did you see those teenagers out front? I would have chased them off if I wasn’t scared they’d blast my face all over the internet.”

“Yeah, what the hell is that about? Anyway, where’s my mom?”

“She’s with the wedding coordinator.” Who, apparently, is still not with Bridget. “The pastor, the band, and Bridget’s parents are still stuck on the freeway… Why exactly did they decide to hire people outside the town? And why didn’t her parents arrive yesterday? When did they even move out of Ridgeford!?”

“All great questions.” Miles holds her by the shoulders and twists her around toward the lobby. “Tell me what you need. ”

“Get those teenagers to stop live-streaming.”

“Yeah, can’t do that.”

The guests soon arrive and start dawdling around the lobby and the lake, a few of them already taking their seats. Miles finally spots the wedding coordinator, a mousy-looking lady who’s running here and there. He overhears her say they’ve found another pastor, since the original one is still stuck in traffic. That’s one down.

“What do you mean you won’t be on time!?” the maid-of-honor shrieks at her phone. She’s all dolled up and dressed in her gown, but the way she’s pulling at her hair might ruin her look. “I finally convinced the bride to get ready, and you’re telling me you won’t fucking make it!?”

“What’s going on?” Miles asks the wedding coordinator.

“The band’s still stuck on the freeway,” she says. “We might not have live music is all. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine!” The maid-of-honor zeroes in on her, and Miles can see why she’s Bridget’s friend. “That was one of Bridget’s non-negotiables. She wants a live band.”

Okay, but honestly, it seems like everything’s non-negotiable at this point. Miles sighs, ducks out of view to let the coordinator deal with that instead. All the inn needs to take care of is the venue and the catering, all other suppliers and performers weren’t their issue.

At least that’s what he believes, until he goes back to the lobby and overhears the two video-streaming teenage girls. Identical twins. One of them holds the phone up as they talk to it.

“Five hundred viewers!” Twin number one says, screaming in delight. “Well, everyone, my cousin’s still in her room and has no idea the band’s not here yet. She’s going to throw a fit! What’s that? Where are we? We’re at Hannah’s Inn, a cozy place here in Ridgeford town!”

“Oh, god.” Miles closes his eyes.

“My cousin’s parents are liviiiid. She says they should’ve done this at Camilla Hotel, because at least their ballroom’s fancy enough even without flowers!”

Miles wants to cut in and tell them that the flowers have already arrived, but really, what’s the point? He clutches at his stomach, ready to throw up. Mom spots him from across the room and waves at him, and he waves back with the fakest smile he’s able to muster.

“Aren’t they from Cloverlily?” squeals one of the twins. “Are they the wedding band?”

That gets Miles’s full attention. Chase and Gil walk in, bickering as they shove at each other, totally oblivious to the twins.

“Helloooo,” the twins say in unison. They angle the phone toward the two, who pause when they realize they’ve got an audience. Chase awkwardly waves at the phone. “I can’t believe my cousin booked Cloverlily for her wedding.”

“What’s that now?” Gil exchanges a look with Chase.

“We’ve got a gig?” Chase asks.

“No…?”

“Excuse me.” Miles grabs Chase and Gil by the arms and walks them away from the twins. The twins wave as they’re dragged away, and they get even that on the stream. “Sorry. Everything’s chaotic, and they’re doing a livestream because the universe has it out for me. ”

“That was a livestream…?” Chase asks, baffled.

Miles nods, sighing. He leads them away to a quieter corner. “The band’s not here yet. They had to get a different pastor, and photo and video aren’t fucking here, either.”

“Sounds messy.” Gil gives him a grim smile. “How’s the bride taking it?”

“I’m petrified, to be honest. She was ready to sock me earlier and I’m not even the person in charge of all this.”

“Wait.” Still looking lost, Chase points at the twins who still have their phones pointed at them. “That livestream. How many viewers do they have?”

“I heard them say they’ve got five hundred viewers.”

“Damn,” Gil and Chase say in unison.

“Yeah, uh. Sorry about that.” Miles starts backing away, and he smiles at them sheepishly. “You might want to lie low. The guests are arriving, and I’m sure they’ll fuss over you. I need to go find Gabby and see what we can do before the bride loses her mind.”

For a moment, Gil and Chase only stare at each other. Gil murmurs something that Miles can’t hear, and then both of them stride over to him.

“Hey, we’re a band,” Chase says, very seriously. “Go get Cal. We can play. Just the usual, right? You need music during the walk down the aisle, this and that, the party afterward?”

“I mean. I… I can ask the coordinator, if you want. She can ask the couple. How much do you charge for weddings?”

Gil nudges him. “What are you talking about? We’d do it for free. We’re freeloaders here, aren’t we? Haven’t paid for our rooms since we got here.”

“What? No, you’re not freeloaders. That’s because you’re helping us out with our social media.”

“Holy shit, Miles.” Chase smacks him hard on the shoulder, and he winces. “Let us play. Go get Cal! Where is he, anyway?”

Miles’s world is spinning. “I can’t let you play for free—”

“Is this the wedding coordinator?” Gil asks, pointing across the lobby. The coordinator’s there, pacing back and forth, with a clipboard in her hand. She’s talking into an earpiece and seems about ready to bawl. Gil waves to get her attention.

She’s sniffing when she approaches them, her grip tight on her clipboard. “Yes?”

“Hi, we’re Cloverlily,” Chase tells her. “We’re a band—”

“I know who you are,” she cuts in, still sniffling.

Chase grins. “We can play for the wedding, but we don’t have our equipment with us.”

Immediately, she lights up. “The… the equipment’s here. Drums, keyboard, guitars, mics. They had it in a different van and it got here before the traffic jam. Are you for real? You’ll play? That would save the night.”

“Wait,” Miles says, weakly. “You don’t have to do this. Tell them your rates, at least.”

Gil leans back and whispers, “We can’t charge them. Boring, legal stuff. Our manager’s the only one who can talk about our rates, and if we get him on the phone right now to sort all that out, it will take hours. We’re going to have to do it for free. “

“Oh god.”

“Besides, if we charge for this, Theo’s definitely going to make a whole different fuss.”

“Can I see the set list? Should be all the usual songs, right?” Chase puts his hand out toward the coordinator, who fumbles through the papers she’s holding. When she finds it, she gives it to him as quickly as she can. “Yeah, we can play these. Look, Gil, this shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Gil doesn’t even look. “Yeah.”

“You two actually mean it?” Miles asks, still dizzy. The two of them nod.

“Come on, Miles,” Chase whines. “We haven’t done weddings in a long time. It’ll be fun.”

There’s something gnawing on Miles. This isn’t right. Fuck. Everyone’s staring at him, probably wondering why he wouldn’t want Cloverlily to play at his inn. What an idiot, they must be thinking. “I get that you two want to, and I appreciate it. I really do… but I don’t want to force Calvin.”

“You’re worried about Cal?” Chase snickers. “That guy would jump off a cliff for you.”

“I don’t want him to jump off a cliff for me.”

“This isn’t a cliff. It’s barely a step off the curb. I’ll even fucking push him off myself. if he finds out you didn’t even ask, he’s going to be more upset about that than anything else.”

Gil gives him a sympathetic smile. “He’ll do this for you. Besides, it’s not really your choice, is it? If the bride wants us to do it, we’ll do it—unless you kick us out of your inn, but why would you do that? We’re only trying to help here. ”

“Harsh.” Chase snorts.

Shit. Okay. Why is he being so difficult about this? The coordinator looks at him hopefully, her lower lip wobbling. Miles nods. “Okay. But please don’t force Calvin if he’d rather not.”

Chase and Gil look at each other and then burst out laughing, as if what Miles had said was the most ridiculous thing ever.

“You’re hilarious,” Gil says, and he takes out his phone. “I’m calling Cal.”

“One problem, though.” Chase dramatically points at their outfits. “We need suits.”

“I…” Miles racks his brain. “Okay, I’m a bit taller than Calvin, but I think my suit would fit him. Let me ask around for you two. Wait, before that, what does Calvin think?”

“Ringing… Hey, Cal!” Gil says loudly to his phone. The coordinator’s frantically looking between all of them, eager and listening. “The wedding downstairs needs a band. You in? Yeah. Miles is here, he knows. Honestly, he looks like he’s about to have a meltdown.”

“Do I?” squeaks Miles.

Both Chase and the coordinator nod.

Gil ends the call. “He’s coming.”

“Thank you so much,” the coordinator says. “Thank you so, so much. I’m going to go talk to the couple. Please. Anything you need, let me know.”

Miles nods absently, his stare fixed on the elevator as they wait for Calvin to arrive. His mind’s so noisy, and he doesn’t know how to shut it up.

Get a fucking grip, he tells himself.