the preacher, that I nearly started crying.
When I saw Noah walk through the door, that urge to cry doubled.
I’d been so busy over the weekend, I hadn’t had much time to think about anything other than whatever wedding task was at hand. Still, when my mind did wander, it frustratingly wandered to those cobalt blue eyes.
Noah took his usual seat in the front row of the left pew section, alongside his mother and three brothers. I was still fixated on the back of his head when Anthony’s hand reached over, squeezing my knee over the turquoise fabric of my dress.
“I’m so excited to spend the day with you,” he whispered, leaning in close.
I frowned, turning toward him. “I’m volunteering at the nursing home today. Remember?”
“Oh,” he said, confirming that he, in fact, did not remember. “Can’t you just cancel?”
“Anthony, you know how important this is to me.”
Disappointment sank into my every feature. I’d been telling Anthony all weekend that I had plans after church, just like I did every Sunday, and it was like he’d listened the way a child does to its mother.
“I know, babe. I know,” he said quickly, squeezing where he held my knee. “I’m sorry. I just miss you. I’ve been here a week now and we’ve barely spent any time together.”
My neck heated, because I was very aware of the fact I hadn’t seen him much. Anthony conveniently had something to do with the media crew anytime Mama came running at me with a wedding task. He hadn’t helped with a single thing since he’d been in town, and if anything, I felt more pressure with him here.
Pressure to make the wedding perfect. Pressure to be available to him when he needed me.
Pressure to be everywhere and everything to everyone.
“Why don’t you help me register for our gifts on Thursday?” I asked. “We could spend the whole day together, pick out our future serving dishes and napkin holders.” I leaned into him on a nudge. “You know, super thrilling stuff.”
Anthony smiled, running the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “You know I wish I could, but we’re going to shoot a little around the town short to air on our YouTube channel that day. I was actually hoping you’d be a part of it, if you have time?”
I sighed, fighting off the sinking of my heart. This was Anthony’s life. This was how he’d always been, ever since I met him. He was dedicated to his dream, to his passion to hold office. It was something I loved about him, and I didn’t know why I was suddenly annoyed by it just because he couldn’t help with stupid wedding stuff.
In four weeks, we’d be married, and none of this stuff would matter, anyway.
“I understand. I have to get that registration done, but when it’s over, I’ll give you a call and see if I can come help out,” I offered.
Anthony smiled wider, shaking his head before he leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’m such a lucky man.”
We were quiet as the service got started, and I reveled in the peaceful bliss of not needing to answer to anyone or be anywhere. If anything, the service didn’t last long enough, and before I knew it, we were outside the church, Mama shaking hands and sending blessings with everyone as they left. Anthony joined in beside her and Dad, and I pulled up the end of the line, a numb smile on my face.
I was so fixated on counting down the minutes until I’d be away from everyone and in my safe place that I almost didn’t notice when Noah Becker darted away from the receiving line, kissing his mother on the cheek before he climbed into his truck without so much of a look over his shoulder at me. Not that he owed me a look, or a handshake, or a Sunday greeting. But, we hadn’t spoken a single word to each other since the Soirée, and part of me wondered if he’d ever speak to me again.
Part of me wondered why I cared if he did or not.
His truck peeled out of the church parking lot as Anthony put his arm around me, pressing a kiss into my hair.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to ditch on the nursing home?” he asked.
I tried my best to smile, turning in his arms to thread mine around his neck. “I’ll see you for supper.”
“It’s my only free day,” he pointed out