If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan)

Chapter Twenty

Shay

Molly is the last person I expected to insist on a small wedding. I knew Brayden would be on board for

anything she wanted, and I expected something elaborate.

Molly runs the new Jackson Brews Banquet Center and specializes in over-the-top, beautiful weddings.

She’s so good at them, in fact, that I always assumed she’d have one of her own. But when Brayden

proposed last fall and they started talking wedding plans, Molly made one thing very clear: she didn’t

want all the fuss. All that mattered to her was having her mom and all of the Jacksons there. She

wanted Noah to walk her down the aisle and my siblings standing beside them as they said their vows.

Upon hearing this, my mom burst into tears. It’s a good thing we aren’t a competitive bunch, because in

that moment, Molly may have become Mom’s favorite. NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

Molly and Brayden decided to have the big day at our family’s cabin about thirty minutes outside of

Jackson Harbor. At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. They were planning it for the spring on the tiny

beach in front of the lake, and I was thinking of Molly in a white dress, of Brayden with that dumbstruck,

loving look he’s had on his face since Molly moved back from New York. I was not thinking of Easton

Connor being back in town. I wasn’t thinking of the house where we played Never Have I Ever and he

snuck into my room after midnight to sleep next to me. I wasn’t thinking of New Year’s Eve.

Now I’m thinking of those things. Since he’s practically family, everyone assumes he’s coming. As

twisted up as the idea makes me, I’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t.

“I like that one, Shayleigh,” Mom says.

We’re trying on bridesmaid dresses. Molly decided she didn’t want us all to match. She wants us to

wear different spring colors in knee-length dresses of any style. I’ve realized since the minimal plans

have been in motion that if I told Molly I wanted to show up in PJs, she probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

All that matters to her is Brayden.

I look down at the dress my mom likes so much. It’s a warm peach strapless dress with a high waist

and a poufy skirt that makes me think of 1950s swing dresses. It shows off my legs, toned from running

and twice-weekly weights. I love my legs and I feel pretty in this, which is a plus. I have much more

confidence than I did when I was a teenage girl in love with Easton, but feeling pretty still doesn’t come

easily.

I look to Molly. “Do you like it?”

“You look amazing,” she says with a big smile.

“When are we finally going to meet the boy you’ve been seeing?” Mom says.

I force a smile. Boy is not the best word to describe George Alby. “I don’t think that’s going to happen,

Mom.” And I don’t want to analyze why this is a relief to me—why the idea of introducing George to my

family makes me a little queasy. And that feeling isn’t a product of the breakup. It’s always been there.

But why didn’t I want my family to meet him? Was I worried they’d judge me for sleeping with the chair

of my dissertation committee? Hell, I’m judging me. Or is it because I knew they’d recognize what I

already knew on a gut level? George and I aren’t a good fit.

“Why the secrecy?” Ava asks, coming out of a stall. She’s wearing a blush rose one-shoulder gown.

“I love that on you, Av,” I say, and my sister-in-law beams.

“It covers my mommy pooch,” she says, patting her stomach.

I snort. “You don’t have a mommy pooch.”

“I do, and I like it, so hush!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Molly says. “Why the secrecy with the guy?”

“It’s not actually . . . a thing,” I say. I look down, studying the hemline of my dress. Again, I’m struck by

how little I feel about ending this thing with George. It should be a blow. But maybe I’m just made

wrong, because it’s not. It wasn’t even much of a blow when Steve broke up with me, and that was the

longest relationship I’ve had. No, it seems Easton is the only man capable of leaving me in pieces

when he walks away. “I don’t think we’re going to see each other anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mom says.

Teagan is watching me. She’s been uncharacteristically silent on the topic of George and Easton. I

have a feeling I know why. She’s met George a few times, and I don’t think she likes him. “Did he . . .

want more commitment or something?” she asks.

Right, because last time I talked to Teagan about George, I thought he was going to propose. Because

I’m an idiot. “No. Neither of us were ready for that.” I’ll explain the rest to her later when we don’t have

an audience. “It’s not a big deal. We were never serious.” I sigh. “Honestly, it was never a good idea to

sleep with someone I work with.” Mom’s eyes go wide, and I realize what I’ve said. “Sorry, Mom. Your

baby girl isn’t a virgin anymore.”

She laughs. “I didn’t figure you were, Shayleigh.”

“To bigger and better things,” Teagan says with a nod. Then under her breath, so only I can hear, she

says, “Emphasis on bigger.”

Swallowing a laugh, I elbow my friend then change the subject in case Mom can see all my secrets in

the blush of my cheeks. “And anyway, it’s not a good idea to get attached to anyone here when I’m

about to uproot my whole life.”

Mom frowns. “How’s the job hunt going?”

“Better than expected.” Maybe that’s the problem. Did part of me believe I wouldn’t be able to find a

job? That I wouldn’t have to worry about moving away from my family because I didn’t think anyone

would want me? “I have an interview in Oklahoma on Monday and then one at Emmitson in L.A. next

month.”

“Oklahoma? L.A.? Those are both so far.” Mom looks like I just told her I’m planning to marry Satan.

“You wouldn’t move there, would you?”

“Mom . . .”

“I hear that it’s really hard to find jobs in your field,” Ava says in her typical peacemaking way.

I nod. “It can be. There’s not exactly a shortage of English PhDs, so general wisdom says you go

where the job is.”

Mom wrings her hands. “But who wouldn’t want you? I thought Chicago or Indianapolis—Ann Arbor,

maybe? But L.A.?”

She thought I’d stay within a weekend’s drive. Oh, God. Wouldn’t that be nice? I wouldn’t have to miss

Sunday brunch. I wouldn’t have to miss watching my nieces growing up. “I don’t know how I feel about

it.” Maybe honesty’s my best bet here. “I’ve worked really hard to get this degree, and it only makes

sense to follow the job. That was always the plan. But I can’t pretend I’m excited about living on the

other side of the country and only coming home a couple of times a year.”

Mom pales. “A couple of times?”

My heart squeezes. I always assumed she’d thought this through. “I haven’t made any decisions yet,

but . . .” I stare at my bare feet, too aware of all the eyes in the room focused on me. “I’m beginning to

realize the first decision I need to make is whether I even want to keep working in academia.”

“You don’t have to take a job right away, do you?” Teagan asks. “Maybe you need a break so you can

decide. A buffer year.”

“I need a catering manager at the banquet center,” Molly says. “I mean, obviously you’re ridiculously

overqualified, but if you just wanted to step away for a while, the job is yours.”

“I love that idea,” Mom says, clasping her hands together. And it’s official. Now Molly is definitely her

favorite. She spins to me. “You could work for Molly until you find something closer, Shayleigh.”

The idea pulls me in two directions. On one hand, I don’t want to leave home. On the other hand,

finishing my PhD and abandoning it feels like a degree of failure. “Maybe I’ll put my application in,” I tell

Molly. “I’m just not sure yet.”

“No pressure.” She grins. “Just options.”

I nod. “Options are good.” My phone buzzes, and I stoop to grab it from my purse in the corner.

Easton: I’m coming back from Chicago early. We need to talk. And before you say no, it’s not about you

and me. It’s about something else.

“Everything’s fine.” I force a smile and shove my phone back into my purse without replying. I really want to stop talking about myself. “Is everyone happy with their dresses?”

Molly scans the group, and everyone nods happily. “I think so.”

“Then let me take my girls to lunch,” Mom says. She looks at me. “I know you’re very busy with

everything right now, Shay, but come to lunch with us. You need to eat.”

I head back to the changing room, hoping that a locked door between my mom and me will dim her

spider-sense.

“Shay,” she calls right as I start to unzip. Damn it. She’s going to realize I’ve been feeling sick, and

when she does, she’ll hound me about going to the doctor. I would, seriously, but there’s no point. After

Dad’s funeral, I was sick for weeks. This isn’t my first rodeo.

“Yeah, Mom.” I hang the dress back up and try to infuse a smile into my voice.

“I think you separating from your boyfriend might be quite timely.” Coոtent of Drаmаոovels.cоm

Yeah, because there’s never a bad time to realize you’re sleeping with a married asshole. God, if Mom

ever finds out, I’ll have to move. I can barely look her in the eye as it is. “Why’s that?”

“Because Easton was asking Carter about you. Carter said he made it quite clear he was interested

and planning to pursue something. Remember how much you used to like him? You followed him

around like a puppy dog when you were little. It was the cutest thing.”

I yank on my sweater dress with more force than necessary. “Not happening, Mom.”

“Why not? He’s an amazing man. You know this.”

“Just not interested.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not attracted to him anymore.”

Why is this my life? I step out of the changing room. Instead of giving me her Cheshire Cat grin, Mom is

studying me with her worried mother eyes. I take her hand and squeeze it. “Let me figure out where I’m

going to be living next year before I start dating anyone, okay?”

She smiles, but there’s something about the narrowing of her eyes that makes me think she can see

through me. “You know, Steve’s mom told me what Easton did when Steve broke up with you in Paris.”

She cocks her head to the side. “It was such a kind thing to do, and yet . . . you never mentioned it to

me?”