haven’t done anything interesting in front of him. And I’m pretty overshadowed by Paris, who is the very definition of “interesting.” Maybe he’s just trying to figure out how such a vibrant family ended up with a dud like me.
The last place is Carolina’s suggestion. After the second wedding factory, she firmly sets aside Paris’s crazy sheaf of ideas and says, “Paris, Iknow where we should go next.”
“Oh, really?” Paris says. “Did you find the map? It’s called the Wild Orchid or something like that, isn’t it?”
“No,” Carolina says. “We’re going somewhere else. I think I know the perfect place for you.”
“But—” Paris says, reaching for her papers.
“Trust me, darling,” Carolina says in a voice that is soothing, yet not to be argued with. I’m starting to think this is going to be an interesting dynamic to watch. If anyone can tame the Paris crazies, it may be Carolina. “Just follow my directions.”
I’m really, really surprised when Paris agrees without further argument. She doesn’t pipe up again until we pull up to the park ranger’s box and pay our two dollars to go inside.
“Carolina,” Paris hisses, “this is a national park! I can’t get married here!”
“Why not?” Carolina says imperturbably.
“Follow the road to the right and park at the end.”
I glance at Leo, who is watching me with acute grin. Distracting! I stare out the window again as if I am studying our surroundings very carefully.
Tall pine trees line the road, and at the end is a long parking lot in front of a hill of sand dunes. I can tell Paris is still dubious as we climb out of the car, but when we walk up the steps to the top of the hill, suddenly the sun comes bursting out of the clouds and she stops with a gasp.
Spread out before us is a long sandy beach and then the blue-gray sparkling water of the ocean. You can’t see any sign of civilization from here, and it looks like a deserted island. It’s ridiculously beautiful.
“Oh, Carolina!” Paris shrieks, sort of breaking the moment. “It’s perfect! It’s SO perfect!” It really is. I feel a pang of regret that Paris got this place first, which means I can’t get married here. Not that I’m thinking about that yet, of course. And by the time I get married, like, twenty years from now, everyone will probably have forgotten all the details of my sisters’ weddings…but still. It seems a bit unfair that Paris should getdibs on such a gorgeous place.
My sister kicks off her slingbacks and races down the hill barefoot toward the water. Carolina looks a bit smug as she follows her.
“Wow,” I say to Leo. “Your mom really pegged Paris—and fast.”
“She’s good,” he says. “She’s observant, too, like you. You’d probably be really good at her job.”
“Oh my LORD,” I say. “I could never be a wedding planner, are you kidding? I’d totally kill myself.”
“Totally?” he jokes. “Not just a little bit kill yourself?”
“I can barely handle four weddings in three years,” I say. “And those are people I love—you know, mostly. Imagine dealing with, what, fifteen weddings a year? All of them strangers?”
“More like thirty weddings a year, usually,” Leo says.
“I don’t know how she does it.” I shake my head and sit down to take off my sneakers andsocks. Leo does the same, and I notice, unintentionally, that his feet are very nicely shaped—like the rest of him.
“I think you could do it,” Leo says. “You just have to care about people and pay attention to them, and you seem to be pretty good at that.”
I shove his shoulder, kind of amazed at my own audacity. “You barely even know me.”
“Maybe I’m observant, too,” he says with that cute grin.
This is getting too flirty for me. We’re moving into dangerous territory. I stand up and scramble down the hill in my bare feet. I can hear him following me, but I don’t look back.
Paris catches me at the bottom and spins
The last place is Carolina’s suggestion. After the second wedding factory, she firmly sets aside Paris’s crazy sheaf of ideas and says, “Paris, Iknow where we should go next.”
“Oh, really?” Paris says. “Did you find the map? It’s called the Wild Orchid or something like that, isn’t it?”
“No,” Carolina says. “We’re going somewhere else. I think I know the perfect place for you.”
“But—” Paris says, reaching for her papers.
“Trust me, darling,” Carolina says in a voice that is soothing, yet not to be argued with. I’m starting to think this is going to be an interesting dynamic to watch. If anyone can tame the Paris crazies, it may be Carolina. “Just follow my directions.”
I’m really, really surprised when Paris agrees without further argument. She doesn’t pipe up again until we pull up to the park ranger’s box and pay our two dollars to go inside.
“Carolina,” Paris hisses, “this is a national park! I can’t get married here!”
“Why not?” Carolina says imperturbably.
“Follow the road to the right and park at the end.”
I glance at Leo, who is watching me with acute grin. Distracting! I stare out the window again as if I am studying our surroundings very carefully.
Tall pine trees line the road, and at the end is a long parking lot in front of a hill of sand dunes. I can tell Paris is still dubious as we climb out of the car, but when we walk up the steps to the top of the hill, suddenly the sun comes bursting out of the clouds and she stops with a gasp.
Spread out before us is a long sandy beach and then the blue-gray sparkling water of the ocean. You can’t see any sign of civilization from here, and it looks like a deserted island. It’s ridiculously beautiful.
“Oh, Carolina!” Paris shrieks, sort of breaking the moment. “It’s perfect! It’s SO perfect!” It really is. I feel a pang of regret that Paris got this place first, which means I can’t get married here. Not that I’m thinking about that yet, of course. And by the time I get married, like, twenty years from now, everyone will probably have forgotten all the details of my sisters’ weddings…but still. It seems a bit unfair that Paris should getdibs on such a gorgeous place.
My sister kicks off her slingbacks and races down the hill barefoot toward the water. Carolina looks a bit smug as she follows her.
“Wow,” I say to Leo. “Your mom really pegged Paris—and fast.”
“She’s good,” he says. “She’s observant, too, like you. You’d probably be really good at her job.”
“Oh my LORD,” I say. “I could never be a wedding planner, are you kidding? I’d totally kill myself.”
“Totally?” he jokes. “Not just a little bit kill yourself?”
“I can barely handle four weddings in three years,” I say. “And those are people I love—you know, mostly. Imagine dealing with, what, fifteen weddings a year? All of them strangers?”
“More like thirty weddings a year, usually,” Leo says.
“I don’t know how she does it.” I shake my head and sit down to take off my sneakers andsocks. Leo does the same, and I notice, unintentionally, that his feet are very nicely shaped—like the rest of him.
“I think you could do it,” Leo says. “You just have to care about people and pay attention to them, and you seem to be pretty good at that.”
I shove his shoulder, kind of amazed at my own audacity. “You barely even know me.”
“Maybe I’m observant, too,” he says with that cute grin.
This is getting too flirty for me. We’re moving into dangerous territory. I stand up and scramble down the hill in my bare feet. I can hear him following me, but I don’t look back.
Paris catches me at the bottom and spins
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