The Wedding Date Disaster - Avery Flynn Page 0,62

was squashed against Hadley’s shoulder.

Taking a step back, because suffocating her sister was not on her to-do list, Hadley said, “I know, but you’re gorgeous, your wedding is in a few days, and I’m so excited to help.”

The doubtful expression on Adalyn’s face and the knowing smirk on Will’s all but confirmed that Hadley wasn’t pulling it off, but she didn’t care as long as they all just went with it. Mercifully they did—at least for the moment—and walked into the old barn.

For as long as she’d known about it, the building had been called “the old barn.” It was one of those old-fashioned, curved-roofed red barns with a hayloft and horse stalls. Knox must have been out here with his renovation plans, though, because the musty, grimy, splintery, unused barn had been transformed. Most of the stalls at the back had been removed to create an open space big enough for a dance floor, long tables that went down both sides, and a raised dais for the wedding party to sit at. The remainder had been outfitted with booth seats that wrapped around the U-shaped half walls of the old stalls to offer a quieter space for guests to sit and chat.

The result was a unique reception area, pretty enough in its country charm to be Instagramable without even having to use a filter.

While she and Will took in the place like a couple of tourists, Adalyn stood in the middle of the barn with her arms wrapped around her waist, her hair up in a bedraggled ponytail, and dark circles under her eyes. Tension rolled off her in waves as she looked around at the etched mason jar vases on the tables and the strings of fairy lights hanging from the haylofts above them. Weddings were stressful, everyone knew that, but this wasn’t the usual jitters and nerves. How could it be with her fiancé still a no-show? The urge to drive to Denver to smack that man upside the head was strong, but she stuffed it down. That wasn’t what her sister needed at the moment.

“Wow, this looks amazing,” Hadley said. “The reception is going to be almost as gorgeous as you.”

Adalyn gave her a short, tight smile. “It took a while to talk Gabe and Mom into it, but then Weston, Knox, and I finally convinced them that rich people from the city who wanted something unique would pay big bucks for intimate destination weddings out here.” She waved toward the open barn doors. “The plan is to use the cabins as guest cottages once Knox finishes those up. Pretty soon the bunkhouse will be outfitted with twenty junior suites, and we have a crew coming out to build a lodge house and additional cabins. Then we’ll have everything to host weddings and corporate retreats during the off-season. With the way things are going, diversification is the name of the game.”

“That’s an ambitious plan.” And one she could totally see her siblings carrying off.

Adalyn whirled around, turning away from Hadley and Will. “You aren’t the only one with dreams, you know.”

Hadley flinched. “I never said I was.”

“Just because I stayed doesn’t mean I resigned myself to dodging cow patties for the rest of my life or that I don’t have plans for the future,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Adalyn.” She hurried over to her little sister’s side, worry jabbing at her like splinters under her skin, and put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“You have to ask that?” Adalyn shrugged off Hadley’s touch and started pacing the wood dance floor. “I’m getting married in forty-eight hours; Derek still isn’t here.” Her voice got louder and more high-pitched with each word. “And I’ve spent more than I budgeted just to make this event fancy enough to impress my sister who thinks so badly of where she’s from that she left and never comes home.”

It only took a second for the shock of the declaration to transform into heavy, hot shame that clogged her throat. “That’s not true.”

“Really?” Adalyn started pacing again, her angry steps booming in the barn. “Then why do you only come home when you have to?”

Money? Her totally nonexistent free time? The fact that it’s easier to maintain the fake-it-because-she-still-hasn’t-made-it illusion by text than in person? “My life in Harbor City—”

Her sister threw her hands in the air. “Is perfect. We know. Your life is always perfect.”

All the phone calls where she glossed over the hard parts of her life, the feeling

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