“Well, besides the fittings—”
“What fittings?” Noel interrupted.
“For the groomsmen and bridesmaids.”
Noel curled his lip, and Starr stared down at her hands.
Angel wouldn’t really . . .
Waylon inhaled abruptly. “Starr, are you a bridesmaid?” he turned to her.
“Eve and I both are,” she said softly.
He bit off a choice word. What was wrong with Angel?
“Noel and Gabe will also be groomsmen,” Angel said, unaware of the undercurrents filling the air.
“Does Ashton have his friends as groomsmen as well?” Waylon asked.
“Of course.” Angel’s grin widened. “We have a total of sixteen in the wedding party.”
“Sixteen?” Good grief. “Including the bride-to-be and groom?”
Angel giggled, covering her mouth and dipping her head. She had to have practiced that in the mirror.
Ashton walked in and stood behind Angel’s chair, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“No, silly. Eight bridesmaids and eight groomsmen. Then us.” She gasped, looking up and over her shoulder. “Ashton, did you remember to tell your friends about the wedding-favor social?”
Waylon mouthed the words to Noel, who rolled his eyes. Starr rolled her eyes. Waylon leaned to the left, catching Starr’s attention. “What’s a wedding-favor social?”
“It’s when the lucky wedding party gets to put together four hundred party favors for the wedding guests under the guise of food and fun.” Starr recited the speech, nailing Angel’s pronunciation perfectly.
Waylon’s mouth dropped open. “Four hundred?”
“Yes. Want to join in the fun?” She grinned as if anticipating a negative response from him.
“When is it?”
Starr blinked. “Oh no, I didn’t really mean . . .” She swallowed. “I mean, you aren’t in the wedding party. You don’t have to help.”
“I want to.” And he truly did. He could run interference between Starr and her sister and ex—and get to know her better.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and squeezed his hand.
He enveloped it between his and looked into her eyes. “Anytime.”
Her cheeks bloomed with color. He couldn’t help but think once more how beautiful she looked.
“Dinner is ready.”
Waylon jerked back and smiled at Mrs. Lewis standing in the doorway.
Let the fun begin.
three
He just got better looking with age. Waylon’s lean facial features fit perfectly with the lanky lines of his body. Yet he possessed an inner strength Starr couldn’t help but admire. Or maybe it was his smile that had her mesmerized. When his full lips curved, it transformed his whole face and sent flutters of awareness through her.
He was a much-welcomed distraction from Ashton. She could practically feel her ex staring from all the way across the dinner table. Shouldn’t he be focused on Angel?
“So, Waylon, how’s the store coming along?” Mom dabbed at her mouth.
Waylon winced. “Still finding my footing.”
“I think it’s admirable that you’re carrying out your mother’s wishes.”
Starr’s eyes flew to Waylon. His mother had passed? When? As if he could hear her mental questions, he met her gaze.
“My mom died six months ago.” He took a sip of water. “Now I’m trying to save her store.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her heart panged in sympathy. As much as her family frustrated her, she couldn’t imagine life without a single one of them.
Waylon’s expression turned somber. Starr wanted to reach out and offer comfort like he unknowingly had when he agreed to go to Angel’s wedding-favor social. She scoffed inwardly. Such a ridiculous notion.
“Maybe Starr could help.” Mom beamed at her before turning her attention back to Waylon. “Starr is doing wonderful work at Thomas and Jones PR firm in New York.”
Was doing wonderful work, Mom. Apparently, not wonderful enough. Starr’s stomach clenched as she struggled to smile at her mom’s misplaced pride.
“I’m not surprised.” Waylon’s steady regard was like a warm hug.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. Although, I imagined you as a writer.”
Her hand tightened around her fork, her pulse pounding in her ears. Surely he didn’t know about the notebook in her luggage that held pages of a fictional story. One she couldn’t bring herself to type up on her laptop. Then the attempt would be all too real. Writing in her notebook was a reminder that her love for fiction could only be a hobby. She wasn’t talented enough for it to be a full-time reality.
“Oh, Starr writes for her PR firm. Isn’t that right, honey?” Mom turned an expectant look on her.
Starr nodded, hoping she didn’t resemble a deer in headlights. She shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth. Maybe if she ate more, the questions around her job would stop.
“If you could give me any direction, I’d appreciate it,” Waylon said.
“Of course.” She didn’t need a job to help out a friend.
Waylon’s face relaxed into a smile. “Thanks, Starr.”
“Enough about Starr.” Angel grinned to take the sting from her words.
It didn’t work. Starr’s stomach roiled as her sister changed the subject to her favorite one—herself.
“Let’s talk about the wedding.”
“You already sent us an email and a group text and had us download that Discord app.” Gabe’s mouth turned downward. “Let’s enjoy dinner without more wedding talk.”
“But, Gabe, the wedding is less than a month away,” Angel whined. “I have to make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“Isn’t that what the wedding planner is for?” Noel asked.
“She’s the one who sent out all the communication links. She has temporary access to my email.” Angel dabbed primly at her mouth and pushed her food away. “Mom, you made way too much food. I won’t be able to fit into my dress if I eat everything.”
“Well, honey, you don’t have to eat it all. The rest of us are enjoying the meal too. Besides, I had to cook a couple of Starr’s favorites.”
All heads swung her way. “I appreciate it.” Even though not a single one of the dishes was a favorite. Mac and cheese was Gabe’s. Angel probably claimed salad was hers, but those meatballs were her true pick. Eve liked sweet potatoes, and Noel was a turkey fanatic. If Starr were to request a dish, then stuffing would be her choice. Only, her mom hated stuffing.
“You’re so spoiled,” Angel remarked.
Eve snorted. “Says the one demanding attention on Starr’s first night back.”
“What?” Angel threw her hands up in the air. “Excuse me for wanting my wedding to be perfect.”
“Honey, your day will be fabulous.” Mom looked at Ashton. “How’s your campaign work going?”
“Fantastic. Ms. Martin is leading in the polls and in fundraising. She’s sure to win the party vote.”