The Wedding Pact Box Set - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,81

fighting a grin that faded before he lowered the phone. This one he didn’t delete. “I think she’d taken the Xanax before making this call, so she sounded like she was drunk.”

Megan snorted. “My mother has never been drunk a day in her life.”

“Well, she certainly sounds like it, but she wasn’t nearly as entertaining as you were on the plane.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He chuckled. “She demanded that you call her back and chastised you for abandoning her in her time of need.” He used air quotes to emphasize the last three words. “But then she asked you to call her no matter what time it was because she was worried about you.”

She sobered at his words. “She must have been really out of it to say that.”

“She’s your mother, Meggie. She loves you even if she doesn’t know how to say it.”

She shot him a glare. “Meggie?”

He shrugged. “It’s cute. And you’re beyond cute when you’re lecturing octogenarians about the dangers of ticks while wearing nothing but your bra.” A grin spread across his face. “It fits.”

She almost told him that no one was allowed to call her Meggie—that it had been a rule since a boy in first grade called her Steggie Meggie (short for stegosaurus) and she’d punched his front tooth out—but she stopped. What did it matter? He only had one day to use the offensive name. Besides, when he said it, it sounded right.

“There’s one more message?” she asked.

He hesitated and shifted in his seat. “Yeah, one more from your mother. She called about forty-five minutes ago.”

“Listen to it.”

He obeyed and lowered the phone after about thirty seconds, showing no reaction.

“Well?”

He sucked in a breath, disbelief spreading across his face. “She wanted to remind you that you have a full itinerary today. She said I have to pick up my tux, and I’m supposed to meet my brother at the store at eleven, which Noah had already told me about. After that, she wants you to go to Powell Gardens with her, but then I have to meet you at the courthouse later to pick up our marriage license.”

“Oh, crap,” she groaned.

“Yeah. I know.” He didn’t sound any happier about it than she did. “She listed a bunch of other things like getting your hair colored.” He turned to her. “Why are you getting your hair colored?”

She tilted her head slightly while pursing her lips. “My mother was horrified that I hadn’t gone to a salon in Seattle before I came. When I told her my last haircut was only three weeks ago, she said it needed to be highlighted to show my waves in my up-do.”

He stared at her in shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He reached for a lock of her hair and held it up. “Your hair is absolutely perfect, Megan. Don’t change it.”

Something warm filled her heart, mixing with the sorrow there to form a beautiful ache. How could she feel such extremes at once?

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“I would say skip the tuxes, but your mother said your brother’s going to be there, too. And Noah and I are supposed to pick up your father’s tux and take it to him.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Hey.” His hand covered hers, and he grinned at her. “For better or for worse, I’m committed to this engagement until tonight. Which means everything it encompasses.”

“But Jay paid for his own tux. And I’m sure the tightwad already canceled his order.”

“I can pay for the tux.”

She cleared her throat. “No, you won’t. This is my mess. I’ll pay for it.”

He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go to breakfast and declare it a wedding-discussion-free zone.”

“Deal.”

The easy conversation they shared over breakfast only proved how perfect they were for each other. He was witty and fun. They talked without pause about growing up and graduating from college, discovering what they wanted to do with their lives. Josh admitted that his plan to join his father’s business had only been further cemented after his death, but sometimes he felt like he’d made the decision when he was a kid without ever having a choice in the matter. He never volunteered the specifics of what he did, and since he seemed to want to keep it to himself, she didn’t ask.

“If you hadn’t joined your father’s business, what would you have done?” she asked, studying his face.

“I don’t know,” he said with a self-conscious half-shrug.

She rested her forearms on the table and leaned toward him. “I don’t