Friday morning was gray and drizzly, and Winnie texted that she didn’t feel like going to HIIT class. I grabbed an umbrella and went by myself, and afterward I walked up the street to Frannie’s bakery, Plum & Honey. Her coffee was always the best, and I wanted to run Winnie’s idea about the plus-sized bridal salon by her.
Frannie was someone whose judgment I trusted, and she’d started her own business too. Plus, she’d grown up at Cloverleigh Farms—that’s where she’d met our dad—and I knew if she said leaving the security of my job there wasn’t bananas, it would be the truth.
Beneath the striped awning, I shook off my umbrella, then went inside. Frannie looked up from where she stood pouring coffee behind the counter. “Well, good morning. What a nice surprise.”
“Hi.” Leaving my dripping umbrella by the door, I approached the marble counter and pointed at the pot in her hands. “Got some of that for me?”
“Always. To go? Or can you sit for a minute?”
“I can sit for a minute. I want to get your take on something, if you have time.”
Frannie looked pleased. “I always have time for my girls. Want breakfast? I just took scones out of the oven—blueberry lemon thyme, your favorite.”
“Mmm. Okay.” The bakery wasn’t as crowded as usual—probably because of the weather—and I grabbed a stool at the white marble counter. After shrugging out of my coat, I pulled some hand sanitizer from my bag and gave my hands a quick rub.
“So what’s up?” Frannie asked, placing a cup of steaming black coffee and a small plate with a scone on it in front of me.
I gave her a brief rundown of my meeting yesterday and the conversation with Winnie and Felicity over dinner last night. “Felicity mentioned this friend of hers that had to go out of state to find a shop that carried dresses in her size. It’s just not right.”
“No, it isn’t,” Frannie agreed. “That’s why you’re doing the fashion show, right?”
“Yes, but that’s a one-time thing. It will be done in a day. And brides will still have to special-order any dress they see that they like.”
A crease appeared between her brows. “I see what you’re saying. It’s not a long-term solution.”
“Exactly.” I fidgeted on my stool. “I mean, the story of finding your wedding dress is one a woman will tell her children and grandchildren. No one wants that story to be, ‘Well, I was treated like crap and nothing fit, and in the end, I settled for a gown I didn’t really love because my options were so limited.’ Shopping for the dress should make a bride feel celebrated, it should be part of the love story, not an exercise in frustration and shame.”
“You sound really passionate about this,” Frannie said.
“I feel passionate about it. If curvy brides aren’t free to choose a dress style that makes them feel beautiful because the industry thinks they need to cover up, what are we saying? That only certain bodies are worthy of telling a love story? I reject that!” I banged a fist on the counter twice.
Frannie smiled at my fervor and nodded. “Good. Everyone should.”
“I feel this spark of—of inspiration. Of wanting to be part of the change. I know the fashion industry is making strides toward body positivity, but the progress might not be quick enough for a bride around here who needs a dress in four months.” My mind was going a hundred miles per hour now. “If and when I’m ready to look for a wedding dress, if I don’t find something I like around here, I know designers I could call. Or I could always design my own gown. But that’s not the case for most women, you know? I want to help.”
“Millie, I think you know the answer to whatever question you came in here to ask me,” Frannie said wryly.
“But I love what I do now,” I fretted, “and where I do it, so is it nuts to consider leaving that job to start my own business? To upend my life? I just bought a house! I can’t afford to go broke.”
Frannie shrugged. “It’s a bold move, and a risk, but I’ve never known you to shy away from a bold move. Do some research. Crunch some numbers. Reach out to those plus-sized salon owners in other states and maybe to some designers. Then see how you feel.”
The bell rang as a customer came in off the street, and I picked up my coffee again. “You better get back to work. Thanks for listening.”
“I’m always here for you.” She blew me a kiss and moved over to the display case to greet the couple who’d come in, and I picked up my phone to scroll through my messages.
That’s when I noticed I had a voicemail from Mason.
It struck me as a little odd, since we didn’t normally call each other, and I hoped everything was okay with him and Lori. Mason had come a long way, but he could still be emotional and sensitive. I crossed my fingers there hadn’t been any drama, and the wedding was still on.
Breaking off a corner of the scone, I popped it into my mouth as I listened to his message.
“Hey, Millie.” Mason sounded excited, almost out of breath. “Just wanted to let you know there will be one extra person at the rehearsal today. Believe it or not, I found my biological dad—I discovered his name in a letter my mom wrote to me before she died, a letter I only came across last summer when I was going through her things. Anyway, after some hunting and a paternity test to make sure he was really the guy, we started talking. He’s really cool—a Navy SEAL!—and he was shocked to learn of my existence.
“We don’t really know why my mom never told him, but anyway, that’s a longer story I’ll have to tell you later. The important thing is, I found some real family and he’ll be there for me at my wedding. We met in person for the first time at lunch yesterday, and it was amazing. Lori and I invited him to the rehearsal, and he said yes! I don’t think he’d be comfortable with anything too official—he’s sort of reserved—but maybe we can find some way to seat him in a special place or something?
“I’m just really pumped that I actually have a dad, and that he wants to be part of my life. I can’t wait for you to meet him.” His voice lowered a little. “I know it might be strange to say this, since we’re exes and all, and we can’t be too close of friends out of respect for Lori, but I really appreciate how good you were to me when I was struggling, and I know I wouldn’t be in this awesome place in my life without your help. Thanks for everything. See you tonight.”
Wow. That was not what I expected. I stared at my phone in awe for a moment, then set it down and picked up my coffee.
“Everything okay?” Frannie asked, coming over to top off my coffee. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Yeah, fine. I just had this crazy voicemail from Mason. He found his biological dad.”
Frannie’s eyebrows shot up, her blue eyes going wide. “Really?”
“Yes.” I outlined what Mason had told me in the voicemail.
“So they’ve established contact?”
“Yes. Apparently he’s coming to the wedding.” I shrugged. “Coming from where, I don’t know, but I didn’t get the impression he’s local.”
With the coffee pot still in her hand, Frannie looked off into the distance. “I can’t imagine being told I had an adult son after so many years. That has to be strange. I wonder if he has other kids—like if there are brothers and sisters to be met.”
“Mason didn’t say.” I broke off another piece of my scone and ate it. “But I kind of hope so. Mason only ever had his mom, and he always used to say how much he envied our family, how big it was and how close we all were. Discovering relatives he never knew about would be like Christmas morning for him.”
“I wonder if they look alike. Maybe I’ll be able to pick him out.” Frannie and my dad were attending the wedding, since Lori worked for Cloverleigh Farms. In fact, I’d have several family members there—Lori’s boss in the winery was my Uncle Henry, married to Frannie’s sister Sylvia. And my Aunt Chloe, another of Frannie’s sisters, was CEO of the entire operation. She’d be there with her husband, Oliver.
“I guess the dad is coming to the rehearsal tonight as well,” I told Frannie. “It sounds like Mason wants him to have some kind of role in the ceremony.” I took another bite. “I wonder if he’s married and bringing his spouse. Maybe they could be seated before Lori’s grandparents or something. I can’t imagine he’ll want too much attention. ‘Reserved’ was the word Mason used to describe him.” I picked up my coffee for a sip. “This is so crazy—it’s like soap opera stuff!”
“What’s his name?” Frannie asked.
“You know what? Mason didn’t say. Just that he’s a Navy SEAL.” Which made me think of Zach again. Kind of an odd coincidence. But then, Dex was a former SEAL too. There must be thousands of them.
Frannie smiled at me. “Should be an interesting night.”
After a hot shower, I blew out my hair and put on a black sleeveless dress with a mock turtleneck and a hem that hit my knees. Over it I wore a camel-colored blazer, and I slipped a pair of leopard-print heels into my work bag. Once my makeup was done, I stepped into my flats, snatched my umbrella, and headed out.
On my way to Cloverleigh Farms, I stopped at an office supply store to grab some file folders—I wanted a place to put all my research about bridal salons. As I was hurrying back to my car, I saw a man across the parking lot get out of an SUV and hustle toward a huge gym at the far end of the strip mall. Something about him reminded me of Zach—the beard? The broad shoulders?—and I squinted, trying to see him more clearly. But before I could get a good look, he’d disappeared into the building.
I stood there for a moment at the side of my car, wondering if I’d lost my mind. A chill moved through me.
Then I laughed at myself and shook it off, tossing my umbrella in the back seat before sliding in behind the wheel. Clearly, the number of orgasms I’d given myself while thinking about him were getting to me.
Still, the image of the man’s broad back and long strides stayed with me all day.
I was meeting the Holt and Campion wedding party in the main lobby of Cloverleigh Farms at quarter to five, so at four-fifteen, I shut down my laptop, slipped into my blazer, traded my flats for the heels, and reapplied my lipstick. Not Red Carpet, of course—being the wedding planner meant doing your best to blend into the background, so I chose a more neutral beige gloss.
When I was ready, I walked over from the wedding barn to the inn’s lobby. No one had arrived yet, so I snuck past the front desk into the back hall where the admin offices were.
My dad’s door was open, and I poked my head in. “Hey.”
He looked up from his computer, his face easing into a smile that creased his cheeks and wrinkled his forehead, but I still thought he was the most handsome dad in the world. The gray in his hair brought out the sharp silvery-blue of his eyes, and nothing lit them up like a surprise visit from his wife or his girls. “Hey, Mills. You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
He closed his laptop. “Are your ears burning? I was just talking about you.”
“You were?”
“Yes. Frannie called and told me she saw you this morning and you were all fired up about maybe starting your own business.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I leaned against the doorframe. “It’s just a crazy idea right now.”
“Frannie didn’t think you sounded crazy.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Want to talk about it?”
“I do,” I said, glancing over my shoulder in the direction of the lobby. “But I don’t have time right now. Mason’s rehearsal is starting in a few minutes.”
“Oh, right.” My dad nodded slowly. “You feel okay about that?”
“Sure.” I looked at him quizzically. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. Winnie mentioned something about you feeling sort of down that the last few guys you’ve dated went on to get married pretty quickly.”
“Jesus.” I shook my head. “I don’t know why I tell her anything in confidence. It was no big deal—I was just in a mood.”
“Good. He didn’t deserve you. None of them did.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Dad.”
“I’m serious. I know you’re the oldest and used to doing things first, but don’t you dare settle for someone less than worthy.” He pointed at me. “You are Millie fucking MacAllister, and you deserve the best.”
I laughed. “Spoken like a truly unbiased father. Anyway, I did a little research today, but I definitely need advice.”
“I’m always here for you.”
I blew him a kiss and left his office, heading back up the hallway toward the lobby. As I came through the door behind the reception desk, I noticed several people had gathered in front of the lobby’s large stone fireplace. Smoothing my blazer, I smiled at the employee working check-in, slipped around the desk, and approached the group.
I saw Lori standing with a couple I presumed to be her parents, a group of three young women that were likely bridesmaids, a couple guys that I recognized as friends of Mason’s, a little boy and girl darting behind the towering Christmas tree, and Mason himself, talking excitedly to a tall, broad-shouldered man who had his back to me. His father?
As I got closer, I felt a strange crackle in the air—almost an electrical current. The same shiver I’d felt earlier in the parking lot crept up my spine. Something about the man’s stance was familiar. The big shoulders. The salt-and-pepper hair. The back of his neck.
But there was no way.
Touching a hand to my jittery stomach, I kept walking, one heel in front of the other. Mason smiled when he saw me. “There she is. I was just talking about you. Mills, this is—”
At that moment, the man turned to face me.
I stopped dead in my tracks, my legs threatening to buckle. “Zach,” I said, before I could stop myself.
From the look on his face, I could tell he was just as shocked as I was. “Millie?”
“My father, Zach Barrett,” Mason finished, his voice trailing off. He looked back and forth between us. “Wait, you two know each other?”
The look that passed between Zach and me was quick and desperate. But just like in the hotel bar, somehow we agreed on the plan without a word. “This is a surprise,” he said, offering his hand.
I couldn’t believe how controlled his voice was. “It sure is,” I said, hearing the waver in mine.
“We met in New York about a month ago,” Zach explained to Mason while I numbly put my hand in his. No one saw how hard he squeezed it. “We were both stranded at the same hotel during the hurricane. We ended up talking at the bar.”
“Really?” Mason looked dumbfounded.
Lori came over, looking curious, and slipped her arm around Mason’s waist. “What’s going on?”
“Uh, Zach and Millie . . . know each other, I guess.” Mason cocked his head. “So you met in a hotel bar?”
“Yes,” I replied, gaining some equilibrium back. “In New York City, while I was there for the wedding planner expo. Actually, it’s a funny story.” I laughed nervously, putting my hands behind my back as if everyone might see that one was flaming hot because Zach had just touched it. “There was this terrible jerk who wouldn’t leave me alone, and Zach was kind enough to come to my rescue.”
“Wow, really?” Lori smiled at us. “What a coincidence.”
“So then you introduced yourselves?” Mason still appeared off-balance.
“Yes,” I said, moving slightly away from Zach. I could sense his nearness as if his body was radiating heat. “I offered to buy him a drink to say thank you, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“No thanks were necessary,” Zach said with a shrug of those shoulders I’d seen naked. “I was just glad she wasn’t offended that I stepped in.”
“You probably couldn’t help it,” said Lori. “Being a Navy SEAL and a bodyguard and all. If you see someone that needs protection, you just jump in and do it. Gut reaction.”
“Right.” Zach glanced at me. “It was a gut reaction.”
“And then what?” asked Mason.
“We chatted for a moment and that was it,” I said, wishing I was a better liar. I wasn’t as awful as Winnie, but I wasn’t an expert either. “I had an early flight the next morning, so I went off to bed.”
Zach nodded shortly, as if he’d done the same.
“When was this again?” Mason’s eyes moved back and forth between us.
“Uh, early September?” I tried to play it off like I wasn’t sure, when I knew for a fact it had been four weeks and two days.
“And you never put it together? The connection?” Mason almost sounded suspicious. Or maybe that was my nerves.
“Nope,” I said, risking a glance at Zach. “I actually don’t even think we told each other where we lived.”
“It was a short conversation,” agreed Zach. “Just the one drink.”
“Wait, I thought you turned down the drink.” Mason looked at Zach. “Because no thanks were necessary.”
Zach and I exchanged another look. “He turned down my offer to pay for it,” I clarified. “He insisted on paying.”
“So you did have a drink together,” Mason said.
“Yes. Just one.” I felt heat in my cheeks and knew I looked like a kid who’d been caught stealing. “And then we said goodnight.”
“Too funny,” Lori said, her delighted grin in stark contrast to Mason’s uncertain expression. “Well, I think this is great. Zach thought he wouldn’t know anyone here, and now he already has a friend. Millie, you should join us for dinner.”
“Oh no, I really can’t,” I protested. “But thank you for asking. Is everyone here? Should we go over to the barn and walk through the ceremony?”
“Everyone’s here,” she confirmed. “But are you sure you can’t make it to dinner? Mason, tell her to come.”
“You should come,” Mason said, and maybe this was only in my head, but his tone lacked its usual warmth.
“Thanks, but I can’t tonight. I’m—I’m having dinner with my dad.” I gestured over my shoulder. “He’s already here waiting for me. I mean, he works here. He’s the CFO. He’s—he’s my dad.” My babbling made no sense whatsoever, but Zach’s eyes on me were too much to handle and Mason’s weirdness was making me sweat. “Okay, then, should we go?”
Without waiting for an answer, I turned and walked for the back door that led to the path toward the barn. As soon as my back was to them, I closed my eyes and concentrated on staying upright.
Knowing Zach was watching me from behind made my legs tremble.
