Page 47 of The Wedding Run (The Wedding Letter #1)

Libby

A fter I shower and put on clean clothes, Elle, Charlie, Bailey, and I head to a local park where we played as children.

It holds special memories of us scampering over the jungle gym, having picnics beneath the giant oaks, going on Easter egg hunts, and enjoying Fourth of July parades.

We pack bagels, fruit, and homemade cookies in a picnic basket, along with a thermos of instant coffee because we haven’t figured out the espresso maker yet.

We spot Dad struggling against the wind with a picnic blanket. But he gives up and embraces each of us in a hug. Then he hands us a corner of the blanket, and we stretch it out and lay it on the springy grass. Bailey plops down in the middle, anchoring it so it won't fly away.

Charlie sits next to him. “Good job, Bailey.”

The rest of us settle around the edges, and I hand Dad a plastic cup of coffee. “Thank you for the coffee, espresso, and cappuccino maker all rolled into one.”

“It’s professional grade,” he says, feeling proud of himself.

“It’s really too much, Dad. Since we didn’t get married, I should return it.”

“Don’t you dare. I want you to have it. It was for the rest of us anyway.” He sips the instant coffee and tries to hide a grimace.

“I may need a degree to learn how to use it,” I tease.

“I love you, Sugarbug.”

“And I love you. All of you.” I look to my sisters. “Thank you for all of your help this week.” My emotions catch in my throat.

Dad reaches out to Elle and Charlie. “I’m a blessed man to have such amazing daughters.”

“Dad, you have that backward,” I say. “We have the most amazing father.”

“I can never do enough for my girls. It’s what I promised your mother.” Sorrow dims the light in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Elle asks, “Why this meeting?”

Panic rises within me. Naturally, all the worst-case scenarios flood my mind. Instantly, I start creating a list of what to do: doctors I could call, and maybe I should move home to care for him.

Charlie gets straight to the point: “Are you sick?”

He shakes his head but looks away.

“You stayed in Storybrook longer than necessary,” Elle states. “Are you moving?”

Okay, we can accept a move. Storybrook isn’t too far away.

Tension tightens Dad’s jaw.

“Did you get married?” Charlie asks, as blunt as ever.

What? That would be... more difficult to accept. But we could adjust. Eventually.

“We’re all grownups, Daddy.” Elle touches his arm. “We can handle it. But not knowing is harder.”

He presses his hands against his thighs. “This will be anti-climactic, I’m afraid.”

“Good,” Charlie mutters under her breath. “I’m all for no drama.”

“I was going to see if it was all right with you three…” He looks at me, then Charlie, and finally Elle. “If I start dating.”

We burst out laughing. It feels more like relief than anything else.

Dad leans back. “Is it so funny to think of your old man dating?”

“No.” I touch his hand to reassure him.

Elle slumps forward. “We’re just relieved.”

“Who do you want to date?” Charlie asks. “Or is this prep for the future?”

“Not anyone your age,” Dad says, “so relax.”

“Good!” Elle grins. “So, we’re not going to be in the AJC.”

“Or the National Enquirer ,” Charlie adds. “But why now?”

“There’s a time to mourn,” he says, “and a time to dance.”

“When you’re ready,” I say, “we throw a heck of a wedding!”

“You do!” Dad agrees. “How was that wedding with the nervous bride?”

“A success,” I say. “Couldn’t have done it without Charlie and Elle’s help.”

Elle nudges Dad with her shoulder. “You can’t change the topic. Who is she?”

He looks sheepish and clearly uncomfortable with these new feelings.

I probe with, “Delia?”

Dad appears taken aback.

“The owner of the B&B?” Elle asks.

“Or, as some call her, Debbie.” Charlie makes us all laugh.

Elle hugs him. “Nice going, Dad.”

“A strong, independent woman,” Charlie declares. “Can you handle it?”

A smile sneaks across his face, lighting up his eyes. “I’ve had lots of practice with strong, independent women.”

“Just make sure she’s all in,” I say.

Dad tilts his head and looks over at me.

“She figured it out,” Charlie explains.

“About the teabag,” Elle adds.

“Momma,” I say, “worried we wouldn’t see a happily-ever-after marriage because she was gone. But because of you, Dad, we did. We witnessed the enduring impact of love and commitment.”

Tears spring to his eyes. “Do you think,” he asks in a huskier voice, “that your mother would be okay… with me dating?”

I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Yes.”

Elle leans against him. “Absolutely.”

“She’d want you to be happy, Dad.” Charlie reaches a hand forward, and we all clasp hands over Bailey’s back. “Like we do.”

Bailey adds a bark of agreement.