1

Grayson

Shit.

It’s Mom.

My hands flex on the steering wheel as the center console screen flashes her name, a familiar sense of dread coiling in my gut the longer I let it ring. I should pick up. She knows I’m driving down to Crescent Pass, that I’m a captive audience right now. I’ll only hear about it later if I don’t answer.

I reach out, finger hovering over the green phone icon on the screen, but I don’t press it, and the call goes to voicemail. A wash of relief and guilt passes over me, but I set it aside. You’re not supposed to drive distracted, right? And Mom is the ultimate distraction.

I already know what the call will be about. My brother texted me a heads up, as if I didn’t know it would be an issue when I RSVP’d.

God forbid I show up to a wedding sans date.

If it’s not a problem for my brother and sister-in-law—the actual bride and groom—I don’t see why it should be one for my mother, but c’est la vie.

A ping from my phone a minute later alerts me I have a new voicemail, and I wince, unsure why I’m surprised she left one. I should feel worse about sending my own mother to voicemail. Actually, I shouldn’t be afraid to answer her calls to begin with. I’m twenty-nine years old and haven’t lived with her for over a decade. It’s ridiculous.

Maybe afraid isn’t the right word… No, afraid is right.

I bite the bullet and play it, wanting time to craft a response to the tirade I’m about to hear. 

Honey, I know you’re probably driving down from Seattle right now, but this can’t wait. How come I’m just finding out you’re not bringing a date to the wedding? Owen said you RSVP’d as only yourself.

And there it is. Why she’s taking it as a personal affront, I have no idea.

You told me you didn’t need any help getting a date. How many times did I offer to find a nice girl in town for you to take? I’ve had so many women ask if you were single because they want to go. Harper’s set an exclusive guest list and it’s all anyone’s talking about.

That’s because nothing exciting ever happens in Crescent Pass. Of course the wedding of the town recluse and his bubbly bride would get people interested. Especially since Harper only moved there about six months ago.

Little does everyone else know they’ve legally been married all this time, and this wedding is just a party to celebrate it.

It’s going to look so foolish if you’re the only one of your siblings without a date, Mom continues over the voicemail.

I nearly snort aloud. Is she crazy? There are three of us, one of which is the freaking groom, and the other has her live-in boyfriend as her date.

Well, call me back. I have a list of girls who would be perfect for you to take.

The line goes silent, and I scrub a weary hand down my face. My first instinct is to turn the car around and pretend I have some deathly, communicable disease that prevents me from attending the wedding.

No, I can’t do that to Owen. He never asks for anything, and he asked me to be his best man. I have to show up for him. But I can’t listen to Mom harp at me for the next week about how if I only settled down with the right girl…

Now that both my brother and sister have found significant others, that leaves only me for Mom to focus her full matchmaking attention on. Unfortunately, living four hours away hasn’t dissuaded her in the slightest.

I itch to call Owen and see if he has any advice for me, but he’s probably stressed enough about the wedding. So I do the next best thing and call my sister.

Kristen doesn’t answer the phone like a normal person, though.

“Oooh, you’re in trouble,” she says in a sing-song voice, sounding more like her seven-year-old daughter than herself.

“Damn it,” I mutter. “You heard?”

She makes a pssh sound. “Of course. Mom is physically incapable of keeping her thoughts to herself. You’ll apparently bring great shame upon our family by having the audacity to be dateless.” Her voice turns to mock outrage. “How could you do this to us?”

“Can you be serious?” I ask her. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

“Why are you surprised she’s mad? I heard you tell her you have a date. Did you actually?”

“No,” I admit sullenly.

“So, what? You thought she’d magically forget?”

I shrug, not that she can see me. “I was just going to say the girl broke up with me, or she’s sick or something.”

“Great plan.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, but that’s nothing new coming from her.

“Can you be a good sister and help me for a change?”

“Help you? I’m still mad at you.”

Mad at me? What the hell? “For what?”

“For giving the kids that stupid Super Smash Bros. game. It’s all they do. I’m so sick of listening to it.”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Kristen. It’s not like you even have to play it with them. I bet Eli’s the one who does.”

“That’s not the point. They get so riled up. Worse than Mario Kart.” 

If that’s the worst of her problems, she’s got it pretty good. “Fine. Sorry for being a terrible uncle and getting your kids a game they love. Send me an approved present list next time, okay? Now will you help me?”

She chuckles lightly. “What do you want me to do? This is a mess of your own making.”

I mean, she’s not wrong. But that’s also not helping right now.

I run a hand through my hair, then rub at my temples. “I don’t know. But I need to get ahead of this before Mom starts parading me through town setting me up with girls.”

“So find someone to take. I’m sure she has a list.”

She literally does. Who does that?

“I’m not leading on some girl from town,” I tell her. “Calling me after the wedding to figure out when we can meet up again.”

“So let her know from the beginning it’s only as a date for the wedding. Nothing after. Hell, tell her it’s only to appease Mom. That way she knows straight from the get-go.”

Hmm. That’s not a bad idea. It’ll get Mom off my back for the next week. Why did I even agree to come down a week early? Just because Harper made all these plans for the wedding party doesn’t mean I had to follow them.

Well, it’s too late now. I’m already on my way. Now I only have to figure out who I can trust that won’t blab to Mom.

“Listen,” Kristen says, interrupting my thoughts, “I don’t have all day to fix your problems. Harper’s going to be over soon to put together wedding favors. We need to get them done so Abby has time to package them this week.”

I sit up straighter in my seat. That’s it. Abby.

My sister’s long-time best friend is more than familiar with Mom’s brand of crazy. I wouldn’t even need to explain why I need a date to get her off my back. And it would be the perfect reason why I didn’t RSVP with a plus one. Abby was already invited herself.

“You’re a genius.”

“What?”

“Abby could be my date.”

She laughs, long enough that doubt creeps in.

“What? Is she already bringing a date?” I thought she was single.

She recovers a few moments later. “Sorry.” There’s still amusement in her voice. “Just the idea of you and Abby.”

I frown. “Why’s that funny?”

“I don’t know. You’ve always set her on edge.”

I have? “You don’t think she’ll go for being my fake date?”

“You can try.”

From the way she says it, it’s clear she doesn’t believe Abby will agree, but I have to take a chance. Abby’s the perfect choice.

“Give me her number. Let me ask her.”

“Nope.”

My jaw clenches. “What do you mean, nope?”

“I’m not roping my best friend into this. Ask her if you want, but I’m not getting involved.”

God, she’s infuriating. Why are little sisters so annoying? “She still works at the library?”

“Not getting involved,” she reminds me in that same sing-song voice from earlier.

“Fine. I’ll stop there when I get into town.”

“It’s funny, I never have these kinds of conversations with Owen. Only you.”

My ire melts away. “That’s because I’m your favorite brother.”

“Right…” She can’t hide the smile in her voice.

“You coming over for dinner at Mom’s tonight?” I ask her.

“Yeah, we’ll be there. Harper wants to go over the plan for the week with everyone.”

That’s right. The itinerary. She’d emailed it to me, but I’d only taken a passing glance at it. I’m just along for the ride this week. Wherever they tell me to go, I’ll go.

“Well, I’ll see you then. And hopefully with the good news that Abby’s my date.”

She grumbles something under her breath, then says audibly, “Even if she does agree, make sure you don’t leave her to deal with your mess once you go back to Seattle.”

My brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want Mom hounding her about the two of you.”

Shit. She’s right. That would be wildly unfair to Abby.

“I’ll make it extremely clear to Mom that she’s not to bother Abby at all, okay?”

“If Abby agrees.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “And I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

She grumbles something else, then we say our goodbyes.

My thumb taps on the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm, thinking everything over. What the hell was Kristen talking about that I set Abby on edge? I’ve known her for as long as I can remember. With her and Kristen practically joined at the hip, she was a fixture at our house growing up. Sure, I never hung out with her one-on-one, but why would I? She was Kristen’s friend, not mine. Did she take offense to that?

Since leaving Crescent Pass, our interactions whenever I’m back in town are usually minimal, but we’ve always gotten along fine. Yeah, she’s on the quiet side, but it’s not like she could get a word in edgewise with the rest of us blabbermouths. The only one ever quieter than her was Owen.

So, how can I convince her to be my fake date for the wedding? Should I offer to pay her? No, that seems so… mercenary. Maybe she won’t even need convincing. Maybe if I ask it pathetically enough, she’ll take pity on me and agree right away.

Wow, what a brilliant plan.

I glance at my GPS, but it’s still showing another two hours until I get to town. There’s no way I can wait that long with this looming over my head. Kristen won’t help me, but maybe Owen will.

I call him up, surprised when he answers on the first ring.

“Thought you’d be busy with wedding prep,” I say, shifting in my seat. Maybe I should stop at a rest area to stretch my legs soon.

“Just finished making the bower,” he says in that easy way of his.

“The what?”

“The wedding arch,” he clarifies. “Harper wanted it for pictures.”

So instead of buying one, he made it? I don’t understand him sometimes.

“Um, cool. Listen, do you happen to have Abby’s number by chance?”

There’s silence across the line for a few seconds. “Abby Walsh?”

What other Abby do we know? “Yeah.”

“No, but Harper does. Give me a sec.”

I don’t want more people involved, but I guess they’d find out anyway if we end up being fake wedding dates to appease Mom.

“Hey, Grayson.” Harper sounds way too chipper. “What do you need Abby’s number for?”

“Because.”

She laughs lightly. “I’m the one with the number.”

If Kristen isn’t careful, Harper will push her out of the top spot for most annoying sister, even if she’s only an in-law.

I sigh and tell her my plan, bracing myself for another laugh the way Kristen did. She doesn’t, though, asking instead if I’m sure about this.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Your mom is going to be at most of the events we have planned for the next week. You’ll have to keep up the ruse all week, not only next Saturday.”

Oh, I didn’t think about that. Still, it shouldn’t be a big deal. We’ll act a little flirty with each other in front of Mom, then tell her it didn’t work out next Sunday when I leave.

“It’ll be fine. But do you think Abby will agree? Kristen said I kind of set her on edge, whatever that means.”

Harper makes a half-laugh, half-hiccup kind of noise before she clears her throat. “She should be willing to help you out. I can’t imagine her saying no to this.”

Really? That lifts a weight off my shoulders.

“But you have to promise me something,” she continues.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t lead her on,” she tells me in a serious tone.

What? “It’s fake,” I repeat. “I’m not really asking her out.”

“Okay. But be clear about that.”

I’m pretty sure Abby will get it right away. She’s smart. She’s a freaking librarian.

She sure has some protective friends, though. I guess it’s good she inspires that kind of loyalty. Would anyone in my life look out for me like that?

Okay, not the time to think about that.

Harper gives me the number, only for me to realize I have nothing to write it down with.

“Text it to me,” I request, then thank her profusely.

After hanging up, I do some finagling with my phone to call Abby, trying to keep most of my attention on the interstate. It rings, nervousness growing in the pit of my stomach the longer she doesn’t pick up. What if it’s the wrong number? What if she doesn’t agree? I’ve gotten my hopes up way too much about a plan that doesn’t even exist yet.

Hi, it’s Abby. You know what to do.

Her voicemail beeps for me to leave a message, and I get flustered for a moment, unsure what to say.

“Hey, it’s Grayson. Um, Taylor. You know, Kristen’s brother. Of course you know that.” Shit. I’m rambling. Why am I so nervous? It’s only Abby. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something important. You’re probably working, but I’d like to stop by the library and ask you… Well, maybe this should be an in-person kind of conversation. Shit, I’m messing this up.” Wait, did I say that out loud? “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

I fumble to press the end call icon and clench my jaw, shaking my head at myself. I’m acting like some middle schooler, nervous to ask his crush out to the winter formal.

I put back on the podcast I was listening to before Mom’s call interrupted it and silently stew until I get a text twenty minutes later.

Abby: The library closes at six tonight, so I’ll be there until then. Or you can stop by my house after.

Perfect. I’m supposed to get to Mom’s at five-thirtyish, but I’ll tell her traffic was bad. I need to have an answer before I see her.

I keep my hopes up during the rest of the drive and pull into the gravel parking lot of the Crescent Pass Library at five-fifteen. There are only a few cars parked here, including what I’m pretty sure is Abby’s gray Elantra.

Shutting the car off, I take a moment to inhale and exhale before I head inside, releasing my worry. If Abby doesn’t agree, I’ll just have to come up with something else.

I have no idea what that something else is, but that’s a problem for future Grayson.

Opening the double doors to the library, I spot Abby at the reference desk in the center of the open room, looking like the quintessential librarian with her cardigan and dark blonde hair pulled back in a bun. All she needs is a pair of glasses held by a chain around her neck to complete the look.

As I approach, she turns to greet me, her mouth opening and closing as recognition hits. “Grayson,” she murmurs in that soft voice of hers, her brown eyes widening.

Huh. I never noticed they’re lighter in color than the usual brown, more like a honey or amber hue. Guess there’s a lot I’ll be learning about her over the next week.

If she agrees, Kristen’s voice echoes in my mind.

Here goes nothing.

2

Abby

Grayson’s presence catches me off guard every time I see him, as if I forgot just how tall he is, how broad-shouldered, how he seems to take up all the air in the room.

Then again, I only see him a few times a year, usually around the holidays when he makes the long drive from Seattle to Crescent Pass. In the times between, I tell myself I must be misremembering how blue his eyes are, how his face lights up when he laughs, how my brain seems to turn to mush when he speaks directly to me.

Which is hardly… ever.

But then he shows up again and it all comes rushing back. The crush I’ve had on him since we were teenagers never really faded, even with time and distance.

Not that he has the first clue about that.

“Abbs,” he says in greeting, using the nickname he gave me as a kid, and smiles. His grin has always been a little crooked, lifting more on the right side. He leans across the desk to give me a hug. “How are you?”

Oh, okay. This is happening.

His arm encircles the backs of my shoulders for a moment, and I lean in, my hand hovering above his back, unsure what to do. He’s gone before I can decide, and I let it drop awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” I say, giving him a small smile.

“Great. Do you have a minute to talk? You’re not busy or anything, are you?”

I glance around the nearly empty library. Susan is shelving books over in the corner, and our regular, Stan, is reading the newspaper in one of the comfortable chairs.

“I have time. How about over there?”

I point toward the children’s section, where we’re least likely to be heard by the others.

Wiping my sweaty palms on my pants as I follow him, I think again about Harper’s frantic call earlier, telling me that Grayson wants me to be his fake date for the wedding. It had taken a good five minutes to unravel the full story out of her, unsure what she was saying in her excitement. Even once I understood her, I half-thought she was crazy.

If Grayson’s here, though… Maybe not.

He pauses in front of the spring into a good book display I made, featuring picture books about flowers, gardens, and springtime. Reaching out, he fingers one of the paper flowers I taped to the edge of the shelf.

“Is this origami?” he asks curiously.

I nod. “It’s a cherry blossom. There are roses and lilies, too. And tulips on the bottom.”

He steps back and studies the whole display. “You guys bought these?”

“I made them.”

He glances at me, his dark brows pulled together in confusion. “You made them? Like, all of them?” He waves a hand to encompass all of it.

My fingers fiddle with the hem of my cardigan. “Um, yes. I like doing paper folding projects.”

“This looks advanced. I didn’t know you could do stuff like this.”

My head tilts to the side as I meet his gaze. “Why would you?”

When I do get the chance to talk to him—which is rarely—we stick to safe, neutral topics. How are things in Seattle? How are your folks doing? Can you believe how big Jamie and Jenny are getting? I’ve never had a reason to tell him that origami and gift wrapping are totally my jam.

“Right.” He gestures toward the paper flowers. “Well, it’s very impressive.”

I give a slight nod in thanks. “But I’m guessing you didn’t drive over here to admire my children’s book display.”

His mouth lifts in that crooked grin again. “No.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, then immediately takes them out and crosses his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his fitted tee pulling tight around his biceps. “I, um… Well, I wanted to ask…”

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s chewing on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought.

Wait, is he nervous? Grayson? He’s normally so unflappable. Then again, this is a supremely weird request he’s about to ask of me.

“Harper told me,” I say, putting him out of his misery. “You want me to be your fake date to her wedding so your mom will get off your back.”

He blinks in surprise before he sighs. “I should have known she couldn’t keep that to herself. Where my brother’s a vault, she’s an open book.”

He’s definitely not wrong with that analogy.

“So…” His gaze flicks to me and away as his fingers curl into the muscle of his upper arm. “Are you game? You’d really be doing me a favor.”

I shrug, trying to appear casual, even as a thrill runs up my spine. Despite it being fake, I’m still going to be Grayson’s date. Teenage Abby would die. “Yeah, sure. That’s what friends do.”

“You think of us as friends?”

My mouth opens, unsure how to respond as the thrill dissipates, leaving an empty heaviness in its wake. Does he think so little of me?

“I mean, we are,” he backtracks, appearing alarmed. Was my disappointment that obvious? “I just always thought of you more as Kristen’s friend. I didn’t realize it extended to me and Owen, too.”

I hide my wince. Bringing his brother into the mix, too? If he says he thinks of me as a sister, I’m going to spontaneously combust.

Giving him a half-smile, I turn and straighten a few books on the display, not that they weren’t already perfect to begin with.

“Thank you,” he says, filling the now-awkward silence. “This means a lot to me.”

He squeezes my arm in thanks, the area tingling even after his hand returns to his side.

I nod unsteadily, hating how he affects me. I’m twenty-eight-freaking-years-old. I shouldn’t still have this stupid crush on him.

“Harper said she has some events planned for this week?” he continues, his voice lifting at the end, making it a question. “I don’t know, I didn’t really look at the itinerary she sent. But she mentioned my mom will be at some of them, so we might have to pretend, too, before the actual wedding.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“It could be a good thing, you know? Another way to sell it to my mom.”

How important is it that she believes I’m his date to this thing?

“Are you coming over to dinner tonight?” he asks. “At my mom’s?”

“Oh, no. I think that’s only for family. We’re all going out tomorrow night, though. Over in Kirkwood.”

There’s a beat of silence, and I resist the urge to fill it as he seems to inwardly think.

“Can I stop by your house in the morning?” he finally asks. “So we can get on the same page about everything?”

“You mean come up with our alibi?”

He laughs, almost like he’s surprised, and gives me a searching look. “Yeah, exactly.”

I nod. “Sure. Just text me.”

Since he has my number now and all, apparently.

He says his goodbyes and as he leaves, I let out a whole body sigh, tension releasing from me.

So, that just happened.

Before he’s even out the front door, the library assistant, Susan, is pushing her book cart toward me, nosiness radiating from her. God help me in this small town of busybodies.

“Was that Grayson?” she asks, as if she hasn’t been in the stacks texting to let her gossip network know the once-prodigal son has returned. “What’s he doing meeting up with you?”

Ouch. Is it that unbelievable that Grayson would—

Okay, yeah. I can’t even finish the outraged thought. She has a point.

“We have some things to coordinate for Owen and Harper’s wedding,” I tell her, surprised at how breezily it comes out. Not that it’s a lie… It’s just not the full truth.

“I can’t believe you’re taking off a full week for that,” she grumbles. “It’s not until next Saturday.”

I don’t bring up the fact that I haven’t taken a vacation in years. I’ve already reminded her numerous times.

“Well, Harper has a lot of stuff planned for us since her friends are visiting from Chicago.”

“Yeah, but a whole week?”

I give her a shrug and walk away. She’s only salty because she wasn’t invited to the wedding.

It’s not long until it’s six o’clock, and I go through the closing procedures on autopilot, my mind obsessively going over everything. Can I really convince Mrs. Taylor I’m her son’s wedding date? And why wouldn’t I have mentioned it before now if it was true?

I mentally add it to the list of plot holes we’ll need to resolve tomorrow. I should have asked him why he needs to convince her in the first place, but I have a feeling I already know the answer. His mom can get a bit… forceful when it comes to pushing her kids toward her idea of what’s right.

When I get home, my orange tabby, Leo, chatters loudly at me, telling me it’s past dinner time.

“I know, bud,” I murmur, setting my bag down on the kitchen table. “Give me a sec.”

He circles my ankles, nearly tripping me as I open the pantry door and peruse the selection.

“Is it an ocean whitefish and tuna kind of night? Or salmon and beef?”

I hold out the two cans of cat food to him, and he rubs the side of his face against the first option.

“Excellent choice, sir.”

I plate it for him, his interest in me long forgotten as he chows down, licking up all the gravy before chewing the shreds of meat. I watch him, not in any rush to start dinner for myself. There’s still this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I’m on a precipice, ready to tumble into the unknown.

This thing with Grayson… Spending time with him, getting to know him better… It could lead to something. An actual something. That’s what happens in rom-coms, right?

Get real, an inner voice snarkily whispers. The man hasn’t looked twice at you in the two-plus decades he’s known you.

I think back to this past Thanksgiving, seated next to him but barely saying a word throughout the whole dinner. At Christmas, hardly able to string two words together when he’d greeted me.

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow hard to get rid of it, not liking the reminders of all my failings when it comes to him. Of all the ways he’s never noticed me, of how anxious I get around him.

No, no. Today was different. I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m going to be fun, bubbly Abby, the perfect fake date for his brother’s wedding. So perfect that he’ll wonder why he never paid attention to me before, how I’ve been under his nose this whole time. How we’d be perfect together.

A soft laugh escapes me, tinged with an edge of hysteria. I’m delusional, aren’t I? I need to cut back on the romance novels and Hallmark channel.

Even if nothing happens between us, though, this feels like a wake-up call. I’m tired of life passing me by, waiting for something to happen. If I want things to happen, I need to make them happen.

And who better to try that with than the man I’ve always wanted?