“I’m going to help escort guests inside. You’re going away, somewhere.”
“I like it here.”
It was her turn to smile. “Parker said to get rid of you until it’s time to clean up. Go find
your little friends, Del, and if you’re good boys you’ll be fed later.”
“Fine, but if I get roped into cleanup, I want some of that cake.”
They separated, him strolling toward the remodeled pool house that served as Mac’s studio
and home, her striding toward the terrace, where the bride and groom exchanged their first
married kiss.
Laurel glanced back once—just once. She’d known him all her life—that was fate, she
supposed. But it was her own fault, and her own problem, that she’d been in love with him
nearly as long.
She allowed herself one sigh before fixing a bright, professional smile on her face to lend a
hand herding the celebrants into Reception.