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One thing I’ve gleaned from growing up in a tourist wedding destination like Kiss County, it’s that no wedding ever goes off without a hitch.
So when my mother and I took up the task of planning her wedding in just two days we prepared to keep our expectations on the floor.
Small Town, on the other hand…
They stepped up.
By the time we’d talked to Reverend Pierce to book the chapel on the town square, the news spread. Within minutes, it reached the busybodies at the yoga studio and, by the next hour, people were stopping us on the street to congratulate my mother.
“I’m so happy for you, Tanya!”
“It’s about time!”
“I knew that Kiss County magic would touch you someday!”
“Bring him around for bingo! We’re dying to meet the lucky guy.”
Her cheeks a bright shade of pink, my mother accepted their words with smiling grace. She’s always been shy, never one tostick herself out there too far, and the sudden flood of attention was no doubt overwhelming to her.
Neither of us were prepared for just how far Small Town would go, though.
By the end of the first day, Mika had gifted them the honeymoon suite at Two Hearts Inn for the week. Lottie volunteered her baking skills to make them the perfect three-tiered cake. Bruno faked a bit of disinterest before offering to cater the reception, which would take place at Sparks Pub — with an open bar.
“Just remember where you started when you make it big someday, diva,” Jake teased. “All right?”
With rolling eyes and a grateful smile, I agreed.
In the rush to get everything prepared, I’ve barely had a moment to myself.
Barely a moment to think about Riley.
When he does drift into my thoughts, it’s like a slow crashing tidal wave threatening to knock me off balance. I push through it, not wanting to spiral too deep, not wanting to remind myself just how close I came to finding someone of my own.
I thought it was finally my turn.
Apparently not.
People talk about how easy it is to fall in love in Kiss County, but no one ever talks about how easy it is to have your heart broken, too.
On the morning of the wedding, we head toward the town square. Jewel-toned streamers line the streets, pointing the way toward the bright white chapel. People greet us excitedly as we pass, offering congratulations and well wishes for the journey ahead.
“I’m so nervous!” my mother admits as we approach the chapel doors.
“It’s all going to be fine,” I assure her. “Everything is...”
My voice fades as I hear the gentle strumming of a guitar somewhere deep within the chapel, the song painfully familiar.
It’s the song Riley and I sang together the night we met.
How could such a simple thing make my heart twist so hard?
Sitting on the front pew of the chapel, his head dipped with focus, Riley strums his guitar. The notes curl around me, threatening to sweep me off my feet as easily as he did.
“Riley!” my mother says, her voice bringing the music to a sudden stop. “Was that you? You sound great!”
He looks up, then down, his eyes only briefly touching mine as he sets the guitar aside and stands up. “Yeah,” he says. “I was just messing around, but thank you.”
I bite my cheek, the sight of him in his black suit and sapphire blue tie making me weak in the knees. I rest a hand on the back of the nearest pew to prevent myself from falling over.
