Until We Crash - Michele G Miller Page 0,100
I? After all, it was four years ago. Four years since Daniel sat me down and told me he wanted to “explore his options.” Little did I know his options included my cousin Mary Anne.
The vibration of my phone pulled me back to the present. Momma. A grand debate took place in my mind. Should I let her fourth call of the day roll to voicemail? Avoiding Erika Guthry when she wanted to speak with you was pointless. She was relentless, and it was best to deal with her like ripping off a bandage—grit your teeth and get it over with quickly.
“Hello, Momma.”
“Savannah Rose Guthry, I have been trying and trying to contact you today. I almost had Daddy contact the authorities. You’ve given me quite the scare, darling.”
Add hysterics and exaggeration to the list of qualities momma possessed.
“Momma, I’m fine. You know I have classes all day. I walked in the door a few minutes ago.”
“Well, you should have called me back.” The irritation was apparent in her heavily accented voice. I’d inconvenienced her. “Sweetheart, I called to tell you about Mary Anne and Daniel. Have you heard yet?”
“I’m staring at the announcement as we speak.”
“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I so hoped I would be able to warn you. Are you all right?” Her irritation gave way to misplaced sorrow. The speed at which her emotions changed gave me whiplash.
“Momma, it’s been four years. I’m fine.”
“Losing someone like Daniel Livingston does not simply go away, Savannah. I can’t believe we let him slip through your fingers and right into Mary Anne’s. Why I bet Charlene is prancing like a peacock at the match.”
“I’m sure she is, Momma. I need to run—”
“Honey, you know Mary Anne barely graduated, don’t you? Daniel would have done so much better with you. But here we are; they’re getting married in June, and you’re in Tennessee still in school.” Her voice rose an octave as she mournfully complained.
“I need to run, Momma,” I repeated before she whined more.
“What? Oh, darling, your father is calling. We’re supposed to have dinner with the Alexanders this evening. Oh”—she gasped—“the most amazing idea just popped into my head! Spencer played golf with your daddy and Neal today—”
“Oh, Momma, don’t go there. Leave poor Spencer Alexander alone.” My plea was pointless; the squeal of the matchmaking wheels spun loud from two states away.
“Sweetheart, Spencer was a doll all those years ago. Escorting you to your coming-out party after Daniel broke your heart. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll handle everything. I’ll call you in a few days to discuss the details of the pre-wedding events. Love you.”
“All right, love you—” The phone beeped, and she was gone.
With a heavy sigh, I lifted my wine glass to my lips only to find it empty. Sara and Candace would be home with dinner any minute. Drinking over the wedding invitation for your ex while alone was sad. A second glass could wait.
As I carefully took the wedding invitation from my lap and slipped it back into the envelope, my mind wandered back to Spencer Alexander. The history between us was more complicated than Momma knew. He didn’t deserve her snooping into his personal life when all he’d done was play golf with Daddy.
Mind made up, I quickly rang Daddy’s cell phone in hopes of catching him before he picked Momma up for dinner.
“Bradford Guthry,” he answered with his brusque business tone.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hi, baby. Sorry, I didn’t see it was you calling. Everything all right?”
“I’m great, Daddy. I talked to Momma a moment ago about Mary Anne’s wedding.”
“Oh? I’m sorry, baby. I should have warned you about that.”
The funny thing was, Daddy meant he wished he’d warned me about Momma calling. Whereas she’d thought I needed warned of the event itself—as though I would have an emotional meltdown. Daddy knew it was Momma’s overreacting, melodramatic phone calls that put me over the edge.
“It’s all right, I survived. However, Spencer Alexander may not.”
“Spence? What does he have to do with anything?”
“What, indeed?” I laughed and filled him in on Momma’s ‘amazing idea’.
Daddy blew out a deep breath. “Leave your mother to me, honey. Will you be home before the wedding, or are you set on staying in Nashville this summer?”
“You know I’m staying here, Daddy.” I chided.
“All right, sweetie. I promised not to complain. Don’t worry about your mother. I’ll keep her off your case. You have finals in the next few weeks, don’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Okay then, study hard and let us know how you do. Let me run before your mother yells at me for being late again.”
“Have fun. Love you,” I said, my mood significantly improved.
Momma and Daddy were opposites when it came to me. Sure, they both wanted what was best for me, but Daddy listened to my wants, whereas Momma assumed she knew them. She’d never had a problem making decisions for me.
Muffled laughter outside the front door alerted me to the roomies' arrival. Picking up the fumbling and rattling of a key in the lock, I went to help them in.
Sara cursed when I pulled the door open, and she stumbled across the threshold. “We’ve got to get a locksmith to look at this. It sticks.”
“Surprise,” Candace sang as she nudged Sara in and held up two carryout bags from my favorite local Italian restaurant.
“And ice cream.” Sara pulled out a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. “Want dessert first?”
Lord, did I ever.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to my readers. You can choose from a million books, and you chose to spend time with mine. I’m honored.
If you have a moment, please leave a rating or review on Amazon for UNTIL WE CRASH. Reviews help indie authors so much! ~Michele
To my husband and kids, I love you more than you will ever know. I wrote this during Covid-19, so we were all stuck at home. For once, you didn’t deal with my crazy “on deadline” issues like usual. The house stayed clean-ish, and I didn't miss carpool because we didn’t have anywhere to go.
My Fierce Family, Amanda, Christy, Jess, Mindy, and Starla, thank you for seven years of unwavering love and support.
Chele’s Belles, thank you for your support! I love being able to share this book world with you.
The professionals who backed me up on Until We Crash:
My editor, Samantha—Thank you for fixing my overabundant use of the comma. I appreciate you always.
My cover designer—Starla, of Designed by Starla. Thank you for always dressing my books.
My alpha reader Jo Pettibone— Thank you for always being one instant message away and for nitpicking everything!
Shout out to Angie Craft, who beta read this one. Thanks for pointing out those moments when the sex made you cringe. I fixed them just for you.
More shout outs:
Mary Knight: for offering up Womick as a last name
Niamh Kelly: for allowing me to steal your last name
Jessica Surgett: for letting me borrow your first and last name when I created the character years ago. I hope Carter is the perfect book boyfriend for your alter ego. Xoxo