Page 54 of Sparks Fly

From the moment I woke up, the day was constant movement without pause. I barely stopped long enough to drink water. Sometime around two in the afternoon I realized I hadn’t eaten and shoved a granola bar into my bag for later, though later never actually came.

I hated how little I had texted Sawyer. She hadn’t said anything about it, but every buzz in my pocket came with that sharp, instinctive hope that it might be her. Every time it wasn’t, I felt a little disappointed. Work didn’t care about ache, and bridesmaids definitely didn’t either.

By evening I was already exhausted, and I still had to pivot out of work mode and into daughter mode. Sunday dinner had been moved to Monday because of a gala my mom couldn’t reschedule, which meant dressing up again, smoothing myself out again, and driving to my parents’ house with my shoulders already tight from the day.

Dinner was fine the way it always was. My parents lived in the same house I’d grown up in, a large colonial tucked into a quiet neighborhood where every lawn looked professionally maintained. The porch light was already on when I pulled into the driveway.

Mom opened the door before I even knocked.

“There you are,” she said, kissing my cheek. “We’re waiting on you.”

I glanced at the clock in the foyer. “It is literally seven on the dot.”

“Exactly.”

I smiled despite myself and followed her toward the dining room.

Dad was already seated with a glass of wine, scrolling through his phone when I walked in.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi, Dad.”

Dinner started the way it always did. Work first.

“How many showings today?” Dad asked.

“Five.”

He whistled. “That’s a lot.”

“It felt like a lot.”

Mom passed me the roasted vegetables. “The market is still good, though?”

“Busy, but good.”

The conversation stayed familiar for a while. Real estate. A neighbor selling their house. Some cousin I barely remembered getting engaged.

“Speaking of engagements,” Mom said, “did Lilly finalize the florist?”

“Yeah. A few weeks ago.” I said.

“What flowers did she choose?”

“I don’t know. Something dusty blue and mauve?”

Mom shook her head. “When it’s your turn, I’m hiring someone to force you to care about flowers.”

Normally, the comment wouldn’t have bothered me.

But a few months ago, I had known exactly what my future was supposed to look like.

A husband. Marriage. A house. Everything neatly planned.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

“Addison?”