An (Almost) Perfect Love Story (Love Story Book Three)

by Schurig, Rachel

My dad called me that night. “Ashley, how on earth could you think that I’d mind paying for the wedding?”

  I sighed. “I take it Mom called you.”

  “Yes, she did. Honey, of course we want to give you your dream wedding. We’ve had an account set aside since you were a little girl.”

  I felt a rush of affection for my dad. “I appreciate that, Dad, I really do. But it’s not necessary. Chris and I can put together something small—”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You’re my daughter. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I knew I should feel be grateful, that I was totally lucky to have such a generous father. But I hung up feeling worse than ever. I wished he’d told me that he hung up on my mom, that he told her to go jump in a lake, that he did something, anything, to show her that he wasn’t okay with what was happening. If my wedding had to suffer in order to help him prove his point, so be it.

  My mother seemed to take my dad’s agreement on budget as a personal victory, like it granted her the authority to go ahead and start making decisions. Without discussing it further with me, or waiting to hear what Chris had to say, she went ahead and hired Ever After Events to handle the wedding. In no time at all, I was getting cc’d on emails every day between my mother and Jen Thompson. I felt bad for Jen; the sudden onslaught of my mom’s enthusiasm must have come as quite a shock.

  For her part, Jen tried to make sure nothing was signed off on without my approval, though my mother seemed dumbfounded as to why it was necessary. A lifetime of me agreeing with everything she said had apparently taught her I had no opinions of my own.

  “How do you feel about the country club?” I asked Chris after reading the latest email from Jen. She and my mother were very concerned about finding the venue, as nothing else could be decided without knowing where the wedding would take place. If we didn’t decide on something soon, we’d have no choice but to push the wedding back to the autumn.

  “What country club?” Chris asked, barely looking up from his laptop. He was sprawled on my bed in his boxer shorts and an undershirt, working on some complicated-looking algorithm. He had the dreamy, little boy look on his face that he always got when he was working hard. He looked adorable.

  “Where my dad golfs?” I said, looking back down at my phone. “You’ve been there with him a few times.”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking up at me and squinting. “It’s nice. They have good greens.”

  “Yeah, but how do you feel about it for the wedding?”

  “The wedding? You want to get married at the country club?”

  “They have an opening,” I said, holding up the phone so he could see the email. “My mom and Jen went out there and talked to someone.”

  Chris raised his eyebrows. “They did, huh? How do you feel about that?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a nice place. And if they have an opening…” The truth was, I was feeling pretty ambivalent about it. Part of me wanted Chris and me to go out and pick the site ourselves, somewhere special without any help from anyone else. But I knew my mom would never go for that. What was the point of arguing?

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Chris said, leaning forward to kiss me before returning to his work. I felt an irrational flash of irritation that he didn’t have an opinion of his own. It wasn’t fair to get mad at him for something I had pretty much just thought myself. Sighing, I typed out a reply to Jen, letting her know that Chris and I were on board, and no, we didn’t need to go out and see it ourselves as we’d both been there before.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Chris said, looking up again. “My parents want us to come up there soon. They want to do a family dinner, to celebrate the engagement. To congratulate us, you know? Is there a weekend you’d be free?”

  We hadn’t seen his parents or his sister since getting engaged. The idea of getting away from all this—specifically the planning and my mother—was exactly what I needed right then. A whole weekend at the farm with Chris and his family, out in the woods where my cell service invariably failed—it was almost too good to be true. Before I could respond, a response from Jen pinged on my phone. “Hang on one sec,” I said to Chris, looking at the email.

  That’s great! Your mom already made an appointment for a food tasting this weekend, just in case. Will you be able to make it?

  I looked up at my fiancé. “How about this weekend?” I asked. “Is that too soon?”

  He grinned. “Not at all. I’ll call her now.”

  As he got up to find his phone, I sent a quick message back to Jen letting her know that I was sorry but Chris and I had a previous engagement, and she could feel free to sign off on whatever my mom liked.

  Chapter Twelve

  “So, you excited for Green Acres?” Ryan asked as we filled our water bottles during a break in boot camp.

  I shoved him. “Be nice.”

  “Ashley, does the boy live on a farm, or does he not?”

  “The boy lives in a very nice apartment, twenty minutes from you, as you well know.”

  “True. But none of that changes the fact that when he takes you home to see his parents, you’ll be going to stay on a farm. With cows and horses. They even have pigs.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I’m aware. Seeing as how I’ve been there nearly a dozen times.”

  “His mom can cook though, I’ll give him that.” We found two treadmills next to each other and climbed on, stowing our water in the holders. “That woman makes the best Sunday dinners I’ve ever had in my life.” He closed his eyes dreamily. “And pecan pies.”

  As Tate instructed us to begin a light jog, I thought about what Ryan had said. Mrs. Davidson was a phenomenal cook. Come to think of it, she was a pretty phenomenal woman in general. In addition to taking care of the house, helping on the farm, and making award-winning pecan pies, she also was a columnist for the local newspaper. She was warm and funny and crazy about her son and daughter.

  The first time I had gone up to Alpena to meet Chris’s family, I’m ashamed to say I had some preconceived notions about them. I had never met people who owned a farm before, and images of overall-wearing, tobacco-chewing rednecks came to mind. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Though his dad did, on occasion, wear overalls, I was shocked to find that he was also downright cool.

  The family was very big in the organic, locally sourced food scene. They delivered their crops to farmers’ markets and high-end restaurants throughout the area. Mr. Davidson’s new project was attempting to sell organic, pasture-raised, grass-fed cows at a price the average family could afford. Mrs. Davidson’s newspaper column was all about promoting this vision of sustainable, affordable, healthy food. The two of them would have fit in with the most high-minded foodies in the country. Even Chris had gotten into the family business His research at Wayne State was all about nutrition and making crops more sustainable without chemical intervention.

  To be honest, I felt a little on the dumb side when I hung out with them. They were all incredibly well traveled and well educated. They would have these massive family debates about farm subsidies, hormone therapy, and the best way to reduce carbon emissions in farming, while I would sit to the side and nod my head and try to look like I understood what the hell they were talking about. Even Chris’s little sister, Becky, who was only seventeen, would get all fired up and join in the discussions.

  The best thing about going up to the farm, though, wasn’t the great food or the spacious, modern farmhouse filled with odds and ends the Davidsons had collected from all their travels. No, the best part was the way the family was so very clearly crazy about each other. They fought and argued and teased each other, but they did so laughing. It was always loud in their house. They kissed and hugged easily, and their pride in Chris and his research was evident every time they looked at him.

  Chris had already told them about my parents. He had told me the night before, right after he got off the phone with his mother. “Is that okay, Ash?” he has asked. “I just didn’t
want her saying something that would make you uncomfortable.”

  I had assured him that it was fine, but the thought of them knowing hurt my stomach. Under normal circumstances, my mother would have insisted that we all get together for dinner so the parents could discuss the wedding and the families could get to know each other. As it was, she hadn’t even asked to see Chris since she found out about the engagement. It seemed like the only thing she cared about was throwing an appropriate wedding, not about the marriage that would follow.

  She just wants to hold onto her image as perfect mother for a while longer, I thought to myself. She wants to divert attention from the fact that she’s wrecked our home.

  I thought about Chris’s perfect family, about how welcoming they would be, how happy they’d be to see me and share the news of our engagement. Then I thought about my own family’s reactions. Suddenly the idea of spending the entire weekend with Chris’s family sounded exhausting. I was sure there would only be one topic of conversation—the wedding. Why did that thought bother me so much? Shouldn’t I be thrilled to have a bunch of people gushing over my engagement?

  “Whoa, slow down there, Ash,” Ryan said from the treadmill beside me. “You’re just supposed to be warming up.”

  I looked down at my speed display, surprised to find that I had pumped the speed up to six miles per hour, pretty fast for me, and much faster than I ever would have been able to run before we started the class two months ago.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked, as I brought the machine back to a jogging speed. “You seem kind of agitated.”

  I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You’re not worried about going up to the Davidson’s, are you? Those people are crazy about you. And they’ll be thrilled that you’re marrying their precious, only son.”

  The knot in my stomach tightened.

  “You should come with us,” I said suddenly. “Up to the farm. You haven’t been up there in ages.”

  Ryan turned to look at me. “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He shook his head. “I just thought it was a weekend for the two of you. You know, to congratulate you.”

  “It’s a weekend to celebrate,” I said firmly, liking the idea of Ryan coming more and more by the second. Mrs. Davidson loved Ryan. She would dote on him and fuss over all three of us like she had done when we were in college. It would certainly take a lot of the pressure off of me if Ryan were there to give his input about the wedding plans. “The more the merrier.”

  Ryan was watching me very closely. “Do you think Chris would be cool with it?” he finally asked.

  “Ry, give me a break. When do any of us ever have to worry about an invite when it comes to each other? Of course he’d love you to come.”

  When he still didn’t respond, I pulled out my secret weapon. “I bet she’ll make pecan pie.”

  He moaned a little. “Fine, I’m in. But check with your fiancé first, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling relieved. I knew Chris would be happy to have him.

  “All right, everyone, grab your bands,” Tate called out from the front of the room. I reached for the stretchy I had placed on the arm of my treadmill earlier, eager to get started on the work out. It was amazing how my attitude toward exercise had changed in the month that Ryan and I had been enrolled in the boot camp. I had never considered myself an aggressive person before—I’d go so far as to call myself a wimp. But with everything going on with my parents and the wedding, I found I was able to release a great amount of tension during the hours Ryan and I spent at the gym. I was actually getting good at some of this stuff. Even better, I was noticing some definite improvement in my arms and thigh muscles.

  Tate led us through a tough treadmill workout. Instead of just letting us focus on the cardio, he made us use stretchy bands and dumb bells as we trekked up and down virtual cliffs. After twenty minutes, I was pretty sure my arms were going to fall off.

  “There he is,” Ryan hissed to me as we wrapped up the work out.

  “Who?” I asked, looking around at our classmates, who were hopping off their machines and making their way toward the locker rooms.

  “Chase,” he said, pointing toward the back of the gym. I spun around to look, earning me a groan from Ryan. “Seriously? Could you be more obvious?”

  “Sorry.” I peered in the direction he had pointed. I had never seen Chase before, but I could pick him out of the crowd with no problem. Tall and kind of skinny with dark black hair, hipster glasses, and a cheesy little goatee, he was exactly Ryan’s type. Was I just imagining the smug look on his face?

  “Do you care if I go over and talk to him?” Ryan asked, looking hopeful.

  “Ry,” I groaned. “What are you doing? I thought you’d had enough of his games.”

  “I just want to talk to him,” he said, waving me off. “I’m not gonna like, propose to the guy.”

  “Please be careful.” Ryan rolled his eyes at me and climbed off his machine, walking over to where Chase was standing, talking with another trainer.

  “Haven’t you had enough yet?” Tate asked, coming up to stand by my machine. He grinned at me. “Did I not properly wear you out?”

  I laughed. “You did great. I just figured I’d cool down a little.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Tate jumped up onto the front of my treadmill, leaning over the console so he was only a foot or so away from my face. He looked even better close up. “I’m really impressed with you, Ashley,” he said. I noticed that his teeth gleamed under the harsh fluorescents of the gym.

  “Thanks,” I said, offering up a brief prayer that I didn’t look too terrible. After our first class, I had made Ryan go out with me to buy new workout gear. I was pleased to find there was an awful lot of cute stuff out there.

  “Can you tell how much you’ve improved?” he asked. “Is it getting easier?”

  “I wouldn’t call it easy.” I laughed and realized that I sounded flirty. I’d have to watch that. “But I do feel like I’m improving.”

  “You are.” His eyes flicked down over my body, and I felt my cheeks color. Ryan had been insistent that Tate was interested in me. Could he be right? Of course, I would never, ever do anything about it, even if he were. I loved Chris and there was no way I was messing that up. Okay, Tate was awfully fun to look at. And I couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a guy like that flirt with me. But, still. Ryan had nothing to worry about.

  “So, whose idea was this boot camp, anyhow?”

  “Ryan’s,” I said. “He suggested it when I said I wanted to look better in my wedding dress.”

  “Ah, so you’re a bride, huh?”

  “Aren’t most of the girls in class?” I asked. “Isn’t this a bridal boot camp?”

  Tate shrugged. “Yeah. But I couldn’t help but wish you weren’t taken.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, and my stomach dipped. Okay, light flirting was one thing, but this was too much. I was saved having to answer by Ryan returning. He looked upset.

  “You ready?” he asked, his voice gruff.

  “Uh…yeah,” I stammered, not wanting to look at Tate. I jumped off the machine, gathering up my water bottle and towel.

  “See ya, Tate,” Ryan called over his shoulder, already halfway across the gym. I turned to follow him but Tate caught my arm.

  “I’ll see you next time, Ashley,” he said, his voice low and clearly amused. He raised his eyebrows again and released me, heading off in the opposite direction. I watched him go for a minute before Ryan’s aggravated voice called my name.

  I hurried to follow him, wondering what on earth had just happened.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I know I’ve said this before,” Ryan said from the back seat. “But I have to say it again: I have no freaking idea how you people lived up here.”

  Chris met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “And, as I’ve said just as many times, it wasn’t that bad. Promise.”

  “Seriously,
man. You were a teenager up here. How did you deal?”

  “We probably stayed a lot busier than teenagers down in the suburbs,” Chris said, putting on his signal before turning onto the dirt road that would lead us to the farm. “I mean, really, Ry. What was there to do down there? Go to the mall? We had all of the outdoors at our disposal.”

  Ryan made an unintelligible noise, which I was pretty sure was meant to convey his disdain, but he dropped it. I turned my attention back to the scenery. It was really beautiful up here. I wasn’t much of a nature girl, that was Emily’s thing, but even I had to appreciate the beauty of the north woods of Michigan. I could see how Emily, Chris, and Brooke had stayed occupied all those years.

  “Here we are,” Chris said, turning into his parents’ driveway. The farm looked different in the weak sunlight of late winter. I had only ever been here in the summer, when everything was blooming and bright, or around Christmastime, when the snow and twinkle lights made it all look cozy. Without all that it, looked slightly depressing. The ground was frozen, the mud hard. The trees were leafless and the sky was a solid, slate grey. I shivered as I climbed out of the Bronco.

  Before we could even gather our bags, Mrs. Davidson was rushing out of the house. “You’re here!” she cried, running straight for Chris. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek. “I missed you!”

  “It’s only been a few months, Mom,” he said, but I noticed he hugged her back just as tightly.

  “Ashley!” She turned her attention to me, grabbing my arms so she could look into my face. “You’re as beautiful as ever, sweetheart. I’m so, so happy for you.” She pulled me into a hug, and I felt the strangest urge to cry. It was silly—this was supposed to be a happy time. “I’m just as happy for us,” she whispered in my ear. “To have you as part of our family.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat so I could smile at her when she released me. “Ryan, dear,” she said, moving to hug him as well. “You look even more handsome than usual.” He submitted to being hugged and kissed.

  “All right, let’s get in the house, it’s freezing out here.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and steered us toward the front porch. “We’ll send Dad out for the bags later, come on.”