I’d seen a lot of scowls on Jett Hart’s face over the last several months, but this was the worst one yet.

“It’s filthy,” he said, his scowl now directed at the open flaps of the box. He was right. They were damp and streaked with dirt and grass.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I had thought to grab my shoes before returning the box. I already felt stupid enough, and being barefoot wasn’t helping my case. “Speed was necessary, and this was the first box I could find big enough to trap the opossum.”

“There was a rodent in my box?”

“Not really in it. Sort of under it.” I looked around for Mr. Williams. He would put in a good word for me, or at least be the witness that kept Jett from annihilating me. Mr. Williams was nowhere in sight. He must’ve gone outside with the wedding cake. He often did.

“Haven’t I asked you before not to be anywhere near my things?” Jett was barking. “Can you not follow simple directions?”

“I really am sorry,” I said. “I can probably find you another box similar in size that would work for your mixer.” We received boxes all the time with flower deliveries.

“I don’t want another box! I want you to grow a brain so that you have at least a drop more common sense.”

I took a step back. Had he really just said that? “What?”

“Out! Now!”

I squared my shoulders and was about to say something—I wasn’t quite sure what—when someone pulled me out of the kitchen by my arm. In the hall, Micah turned me to face her.

“I know you’re mad,” she said quietly. “Cool off before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Like tell off that monster?”

“Yes.”

“Why shouldn’t I, though?” I shook my head, still in shock over Jett’s behavior. “I can’t believe I ever wanted his help for anything. There is no way he has any contacts because nobody could possibly like him.”

Micah’s eyes turned pleading. “Soph. Come on. For me and my dad?”

Finally, I gritted my teeth and nodded once.

She let go of my arms. “Thank you.”

“Does he talk to you like that?”

“He yells sometimes, but usually isn’t quite so insulting. It’s his artistic temperament.”

“Is that the excuse he goes with?”

She led me toward the exit, as if she didn’t trust me not to dart back into the kitchen the second she left me.

“By the way,” she said, “when you were taking care of the oversized rat problem, I took a plate of food out to Gunnar.”

“Oh! Gunnar!” Now I felt even worse. “I got caught up in other stuff. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“And he was okay?”

“Yes, just playing on his iPod.”

“And my mom?” I asked as we stepped outside. “How is she?”

“She’s mingling. You know how social she is.”

I searched the crowd until I saw Mom’s purple dress over by Kyle and the band. There was no music playing, and she was standing on her tiptoes saying something to Kyle. He didn’t seem irritated or embarrassed by whatever it was she was doing there. Kyle nodded a few times.

The band started playing some upbeat song and my mom cheered, “To Janet and Chad!” She grabbed the arm of the nearest guest and attempted to start some sort of conga line. Several people joined but most just looked on and laughed.

“I am not my mother’s keeper,” I said, just as a drip of moisture hit my face. One at first, followed by several more.

Oh no.

“Looks like this party is ending early,” Micah said. “At least they cut the cake.”

It was like her words gave the sky permission to open up. Screams and shouts could barely be heard over the noise of the sudden storm. Raindrops pounded down, and I ran straight for my mom, weaving in and out of bodies that were heading for the house or the parking lot.

Kyle had his guitar wrapped up in his arms, trying to keep it dry. Bryce had his suit jacket spread out over his drums. “My precious kit!” he wailed. “We needed to put a tent clause in the contract!”

“We had no contract!” Kyle yelled back.

My hair and clothes were drenched by the time I reached my mom.

She laughed. “That storm blew in quick!”

“Does Gunnar have the car keys?” I yelled. “All the windows were open.”

She cussed loudly, then took off.

The reception area cleared fast. I turned my face skyward. The stifling heat of the day made way for cool relief. It seemed to wash away all the tension I had been feeling moments ago about Jett Hart. And my mother. And everything. I smiled at the sky. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Don’t challenge the sky, Sophie,” Bryce said. “Please.” He, Jodi, Kyle, and Lincoln were carefully disassembling all the band equipment and carrying it offstage.

I took in the rain-soaked reception area and saw Janet’s bouquet sitting on the head table. It wouldn’t survive this storm. I picked my way around toppled chairs and over dropped silverware. This cleanup was going to be more work than normal.

One of the centerpieces tipped over right in front of me. Clear marbles from the vase rolled off the table and onto the ground, rain making them shine. I suddenly pictured diamond-studded shoes and embellished skirts, their wearers twirling across rain-soaked pavements, water and diamonds making the shoes sparkle.

The sound of a crashing cymbal pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Be careful with that!” Bryce yelled. I looked over to see the band disappearing around the corner with the last of the equipment.

I redirected my attention to the path in front of me. Too late, I noticed the amber-colored glass of a broken beer bottle and stepped right on it with my still-bare foot.

Ouch.

I sucked air in between my teeth. I looked around but there was nobody.

There was no way he could hear me but I tried anyway. “Kyle!”

The rain had let up a little and I heard cars starting in the gravel parking lot. My skirt didn’t have pockets so I’d left my cell phone in my purse in the coat closet when I’d arrived. Now I cursed myself for that.

Carefully, I made my way around the rest of the glass on my tiptoes until I reached the bouquet. It still looked good. I picked it up then hopped on one foot to the first tree I could find for a bit of cover. Still holding my bouquet, I leaned against the tree, hiked up my skirt a little, and lifted my foot to assess the damage.

A large piece of glass protruded from the center of my foot. Blood slowly trickled around it. My stomach flipped. I had only eaten that one piece of shrimp all day and the sight of blood was making me light-headed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement through the rain.

I lowered my foot. “Over here!” I called out.

The person changed direction and soon stood in front of me, water dripping off his hair and down his face.

“Sophie?” Andrew was holding my shoes in one hand and his jacket in the other. “What are you doing?”

I held up Janet’s bouquet. “Saving this.”

“And trying to get hit by lightning?” He nodded to the tree.

“There hasn’t been lightning since before the rain,” I said, pushing my bangs off my forehead so they would stop dripping in my eyes.

“I was saving these.” He held out my shoes for me.

“Thanks. Wish I would’ve had them ten minutes ago.”

That’s when he seemed to realize I was favoring one foot. And that’s when I realized my skirt was still halfway up my thighs.

I tugged it down, my cheeks going pink. “I stepped on glass.”

It took him a second to process those words, and then his eyes shot down to my foot. “That sucks.” He took two steps back. “Well, see you later.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He laughed. “Okay, so here are your choices. Fireman’s carry or piggyback ride.”

“I don’t need you to carry me. Just lend me your shoulder and carry this bouquet.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’re going to be stubborn about this? Why am I surprised?”

“I’m wearing a skirt, Andrew. I am not jumping on your back.” I gestured for him to come closer and he stepped up next to me, offering his shoulder.

I handed him the bouquet and grabbed hold of him.

“Do you want to put on at least one shoe?” he asked.

“I’ll probably twist my ankle if I try to hop in one heel.”

“True.” He took a step and I jumped forward, my toes squishing in the muddy grass.

We moved like this all the way back to the Stanton Estate. Andrew was bent as far forward as he could go, and held the bouquet under the shelter made by his chest. After navigating the walkway and many misplaced items—a shawl here, a glass there—we finally made it inside.

I thought there would be a loud mess of guests clogging the halls, but it was like a ghost town. Micah, who must’ve heard the door open, poked her head out of the kitchen.

When she saw who it was, she smiled and joined us. “Where have you two been? You look like a couple of drowned rats.”

I took the bouquet from Andrew and held it up. “Is Janet still here?”

“She was on her way out a minute ago.”

“Will you check? Or find her mom or someone?”

“Of course. What’s wrong with you, though?”

“Stepped on glass.”

“That’s why we wear shoes at weddings, darlin’,” Micah said, laying on a thick Southern accent.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You just sounded eerily like my grandma.”

She took the flowers. “I’ll take care of this.”

“I think I got it from here,” I said to Andrew when she was gone. “The bathroom is literally ten steps away.”

He hung his wet jacket on the coat rack by the door and dropped my shoes beneath it. “I think I can handle ten more steps. I made it this far.”

We did our awkward dance to the bathroom, where he opened the door and led me in. There was a long counter and I leaned back up against it.

“Here,” he said, “just let me.” He put his hands on my waist, and I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do until he lifted me onto the counter. I let out a little gasp. He offered me a wide smile, then shook his head, sending water spraying. I held up my hands with a squeal I hadn’t meant to release.

He laughed and then squatted down, his hand brushing along my calf until it reached my ankle.

Tingles spread up my leg all the way to my stomach. My cheeks went hot, and I leaned my head back against the mirror to try to keep that fact to myself. He wasn’t allowed to have this kind of effect on me.

“Wow,” he said.

“What?” I asked. Was he really going to call me out on the fact that I was blushing? He so would.

“This is a decent-sized piece of glass.”

I wiped at some water that was still dripping from my hair down my temple. “Oh. Yeah. Micah has Band-Aids in her just-in-case if you …”

I trailed off because he was giving me a stare of disbelief. “You think a Band-Aid will work on this?”

“Probably not.”

He started opening the lower cupboards. “Maybe they keep a first aid kit in here.”

“Actually, they do,” I said, remembering. I leaned over to the far side of the counter and opened the mirror cabinet. A white box with a red cross sat sideways on the first shelf. I plucked out the box and opened it. Inside I found some gauze pads and a roll of white tape along with little packets of ointment. I pulled out the supplies. “If you want to go get Micah, she can help me. You might get blood all over your nice pants.”

He reached behind him, pulled a fancy towel off the rack, and draped it over his knee. “Would you stop trying to talk me out of helping you? I can be a nice person every now and again.”

“Fine.” I unwrapped the gauze and squeezed some ointment onto it. “Just do it fast. Once you pull that glass out, it’s going to gush.”

He smirked at me from his crouched position. “This might hurt.”

“Why do you look like you’re going to enjoy that?”

He let out a single laugh, yanked out the glass, and dropped it in the trash by the toilet.

I swallowed down my scream of pain and Andrew quickly applied pressure with the towel, both his hands wrapped tightly around my foot.

“Mr. Stanton is not going to be happy about his ruined towel,” I said.

“I’ll buy him another one.”

Everything was as easy as that for Andrew, I sensed. I leaned my head back against the mirror again, the light-headed sensation returning.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He removed the towel and pressed the gauze to my foot. Then he wrapped my entire foot three times with the tape and tore it with his teeth. He stood, brushing against my knees. He didn’t move, just remained standing there with his hands on either side of my thighs, and met my eyes.

I stared back, no words coming to me no matter how hard I searched for them. I willed my hands to move, to push him away from me, but they wouldn’t. They stayed there, braced on the counter, inches from his.

“Not even a thank-you?” he asked.

“Right … yes … thanks,” I said, not sure why I had such a hard time saying that to him, even when he deserved it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, still not moving. He was studying my face and I wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for there. His expression was unreadable. I tried to make mine equally so.

“You should go,” I was finally able to say. “Your dad informed me he doesn’t want me anywhere near his things.”

Andrew frowned. “What?”

“I think he mainly meant you.”

“He didn’t say that,” Andrew said.

“No, he did.”

“I think, Soph, that you hear only what you want to hear.”

“I think, Drew, that you see only what you want to see. Especially when it comes to your father.”

He clenched and unclenched his jaw, then handed me the bloody towel and left the bathroom.