Crazy for Your Love (The Boys of Jackson Harbor #5)(15)

I plaster a smile on my face—because she’s got some weird mom voodoo that I swear allows her to determine my facial expression over the phone—and swipe my screen to accept the call. “Hi, Mom!”

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me you were dating Carter Jackson.”

I cringe. I guess we’re starting with guilt today. Okay then.

“All the times we’ve talked about him, you never thought to mention you two are involved and getting serious?”

“It’s . . . complicated.” I flinch and silently reprimand myself for the evasion. If I was planning to be honest with her, this isn’t the best way to start. But the half lie is already out there, and . . . I’m a coward. What am I supposed to say? Mom, we’re not dating, but we are considering elevating our friendship from casually flirtatious to fuck buddies? My conservative mother would love that. She would cry, fret, and pray for me. My father would offer to cut off Carter’s balls. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up in case nothing came of it.”

“Consider my feelings, will you? My daughter is in love, and she didn’t even tell me. Never mind the logistical nightmare of you keeping this secret.”

“No one said I was in love.” I pause a beat as the rest of her objection registers. “What logistical nightmare?”

“Well, whether or not you’re using the L-word yet, I assume he’s coming to the wedding. We can’t have additional guests showing up unannounced.”

The wedding. Shit. “Oh, no. He’s not—”

“Don’t even worry! It’s already taken care of. I’ve talked to Saanvi. We’re making adjustments. We want him there.”

“Carter has to work.” I hope.

Mom makes a sound I recognize as disapproval. The grunt-sniff combo was practically the soundtrack of my teenage years. “Your sister will only get married once. If this boy is serious about you, he will be there.”

“It’s not his fault. He was scheduled to work before he and I got serious.” Another lie. I shrink into my chair and rub my forehead. If I were a smarter person, I’d have let her call go to voicemail and gotten my story straight before calling her back.

“Well, at least he’s a good man. Have you talked to Rich about this?”

My body locks up at the mention of his name. Rich Nasser was once the love of my life. Then, four years ago, he became someone I needed to escape and the reason I moved away from my hometown. “Why would I talk to Rich?”

“Teagan, you know he still loves you. He asks after you all the time, and . . . I always thought you two would eventually find your way back to each other. He deserves to hear this news from you, not through the grapevine.”

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw clicks. “It’s been years, Mom.”

“Even so.”

Sighing, I try to redirect the conversation. “How are the plans coming? I’m excited to see everyone for the wedding.”

It works, and Mom launches into a ten-minute monologue detailing the latest plans, excitement, and hiccups for my little sister’s destination wedding—the destination being Jackson Harbor, of all places.

I like hearing about Saanvi’s wedding and the buzz of excitement in Mom’s voice when she talks about the plans for the extended celebration. In three days, my family will descend on Jackson Harbor and spend a long weekend celebrating together and enjoying the excuse to have a bit of a family reunion. I smile as Mom talks about menus, decorations, and minor family dramas that have sprouted up and thrown a wrench into the details of her plans.

“Oh, and have you driven by the Hayhurst mansion?” she asks. “They’ve been sending me pictures of how the gardens look with the leaves turned, and it’s going to be perfect.”

The Hayhurst mansion was turned into a bed and breakfast thirty years ago, but Mom rented out the entire place for the wedding so everyone would have a place to stay and could be together. Even though I live less than ten minutes away, I’m expected to take a room at the mansion too, but I don’t mind. I want to be close to Saanvi during her special weekend.

The longer Mom talks, the more my anxiety over my lie lessens. When she arrives for the wedding, I’ll tell her Carter and I broke up. My lie won’t matter, because it’ll be like nothing ever happened.

Then Mom drops the bomb. “Of course, I’ll have to reconsider sleeping arrangements now that Carter will be there.”

“Carter doesn’t need to stay with us.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s family now. But the only available bed is in the room with Rich, so—”

“Rich is coming?” I practically shout into the phone.

“Of course he is. He’s family too, regardless of whether or not you two get back together.”

I haven’t seen Rich since he showed up at Jackson Brews a year ago. That night, the sight of him freaked me out so much that I made Carter act like he was my boyfriend—the favor I was returning when he called me up on stage last night. Why didn’t anyone tell me he was coming to the wedding?

“I’m afraid asking Rich to share a room with Carter will make them both uncomfortable,” Mom says.

I shake my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the news that Rich will be under the same roof as me and my whole family. I open my mouth to repeat that Carter won’t be staying at the mansion, then close it. Suddenly, I want him there. How much would it hurt to extend our deceit for one more week?