Page 7 of The Wedding Run (The Wedding Letter #1)
Luke
H ow could I say no?
When she looked at me with those eyes, I couldn’t. That’s all there was to it.
I drive through my hometown of Storybrook. Libby perks up at the sight of quaint antique shops, a second-hand bookstore, and Cinderella’s Stockings, a lingerie boutique. Turning the corner at Storyteller’s Square, I say, “There’s a Storytellers Festival every summer.”
“I didn’t know Storybrook had so much to offer.” Her gaze roams over the old-fashioned light poles along Storyteller Lane. “Where’s your shop, Luke?”
“At the corner, next to the second-hand bookstore, Well Read Books. Storybrook is the hometown of Silas LaRoux. A few of his classmates started the festival in his honor.”
"Really? I read his book back in college."
"Didn't we all?" I laugh, and Libby joins in.
We turn into the neighborhood where I grew up, driving along Fantasy Lane and taking a right on Happily Ever After Drive.
Large oaks stand guard in each front yard.
Picket fences surround houses, and flowering vines decorate trellises.
It’s a quintessential all-American town, where neighbors help each other in need.
I park at the corner of a one-story home.
“Yours?” she asks.
“My folks.”
Her eyes widen. “I don’t want to impose.”
“They insisted.”
“They know? They know about the wedding and—” She looks panicked.
“Hey, it's okay. They were at the wedding, so… yeah, they know, and they want to help.”
My folks step out onto the front porch. They must have been watching for us.I introduce them as I open the passenger door. “Libby, these are my folks, Stacy and Wade Maine.”
Mom rushes forward and helps Libby as she maneuvers out of the truck, getting tangled in that massive skirt. “What a beautiful dress.”
“I’m afraid I may have ruined it.”
Mom examines the hem. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
“Mom’s a seamstress,” I explain.
“Mr. and Mrs. Maine, thank you for inviting me to stay. I don’t want to be a burden or put you in an awkward situation with Derek.”
“We’re glad to have you,” they say, almost in unison, smiling at each other. I suppose after thirty years of marriage, they've begun to sound alike.
“Call me Wade.”
“And I’m Stacy.” Mom goes on to say, “Truth be told, we love Derek, but he can be a toot. Can’t he, Luke?”
I nod at the truth of it.
“And don’t you worry,” Mom confides, “I’ve said that to his face. So, he knows.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Libby’s mouth. “I’m thinking he’s saying the same about me.”
“Is that from Once Upon a Pie?” Wade asks, eyeing the package in my hand.
“Help yourself.” I hand it over. “I had Crystal add a slice of rhubarb pie for you.”
Wade takes the package. “That’s my boy.”
“Come on, let’s get you inside.” Mom holds the massive skirt as Libby climbs the brick steps. “I have some of my daughter’s clothes that should fit you fine.”
My cell phone rings, and I hang back to answer, assured that Mom will take Libby under her wing.
But Libby’s gaze tracks me. “Is that Derek?”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll take care of it.”
I head into the yard to take the call. I don’t like being caught in the middle, feeling pulled in multiple directions, and fighting my instincts. It will be better for all concerned when Libby returns to Atlanta. And I can return to my quiet life.