Flower Girl Bride

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Authors: Dana Corbit
looks as if we’ve done justice to the cake.” Yvonne turned to admire the platter where only crumbs and a thick wedge of decorator icing remained to suggest there’d once been a three-tiered cake.
    â€œIt’s all gone,” Sam observed, swiping his finger across the platter and popping the frosting in his mouth.
    Luke shook his head, probably to discourage his son from double-dipping. “Yes, it is, and it’s also time for us to go.”
    â€œBut, Daddy.”
    But, Luke. I had to look around to determine whether I’d said it out loud. Why I’d almost said it was a whole other matter. A dozen or so wedding guests remained in my aunt and uncle’s great room, so it wasn’t as if I’d be alone when they left, but I sensed that most of the fun I’d been having all night would leave with Luke and his son.
    â€œBut nothing,” Luke told him. “We’re out of here.” He lifted his son and spun around until the boy giggled.
    When Luke set him on his feet again, Sam turned to me, holding his arms wide to steady himself. “Grammy said you’re staying here for three whole weeks.”
    â€œI am. It’ll be nice to relax.”
    â€œGrammy said when your aunt and uncle leave that you’ll be lonely.”
    â€œOh, she did, did she?” Luke glared at his mother, who only smiled back at him.
    Apparently, Yvonne hadn’t given up on her matchmaking scheme, and from the silly expression on myaunt’s face, I guessed she wasn’t willing to throw in the towel, either. I should have been mad enough to throw a towel—or something with better aim—at the both of them, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even want to think about what that might mean.
    â€œMe and Daddy can come over tomorrow so you won’t be lonely. We could go swimming at the beach and make sand castles and—”
    â€œSamuel—”
    â€œWow,” I said, interrupting another one of Luke’s parental warning growls. “That’s so nice of you to think of me.”
    His gaze focused on me instead of his father, Sam beamed.
    â€œYou know better than to invite yourself over to people’s houses,” Luke said.
    That sweet smile fell, and I found myself grasping for a way to put it back on Sam’s little face. A bribe of more cake came to mind, but there weren’t enough crumbs on that platter to satisfy a mouse with a sweet tooth.
    â€œHey, that’s all right,” I said.
    â€œNo…it’s not.”
    Luke’s words and his tight expression didn’t leave room for argument, especially since he was right. I shouldn’t have been sticking my nose in when Luke was trying to teach his son good manners. Sam had no business inviting himself over to my house—well, for the next three weeks it was my house, anyway.
    â€œSorry, Miss Cassie.”
    â€œI forgive you.”
    â€œThat’s better.” Luke bent slightly so he could rest his hand on his son’s shoulder.
    As I looked between father and son, I couldn’t help smiling. Just because Sam wasn’t allowed to invite himself places didn’t mean the boy and his father couldn’t accept an invitation from me. And I realized with a start that I wanted badly to ask.
    There were so many reasons why I should resist the impulse, not the least of which was the baggage I carried inside me, and if mine wasn’t enough, Luke probably had a suitcase or a duffel bag to spare.
    What was I thinking? Sam had only suggested a day at the beach, not a lifetime commitment. My brain had to be on wedding overload today. Too much wedding music. Too much lace and chiffon. Even too much of that heady scent of flowers. Wedding lag. That and a sunburn, too. And I’d thought I was a real mess before I showed up in Mantua.
    Luke hefted Sam up on his hip and turned to his mother. “We’ll see you tomorrow at church.”
    Yvonne stepped to them,

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