Page 9 of Walkoff Wedding

“Davis. Get to the point.” I sigh.

He lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. All I’m saying is that if you wanna find your Cinderella, then put the flyers up, and you’ll find her. And lucky for you, I’ve been casually hooking up with a girl in the library since I moved in this summer, and you know what that means? Free copies!”

“Wait, you want me to put flyers up around OU looking for ArtGirl?” I scoff.

“Yeah?” His T-shirt-clad shoulder dips. “Why not? I mean, look, you wanna find your girl, what better way to do it? She’s a student. We’ll put signs up everywhere, and there’s no way she won’t see it and contact you. Easy. We use the sketchbook, and we draw her out. It’s like Cinderella bait.”

This sounds like a terrible idea, listening to the Rookie, and I have a feeling I’m probably going to regret it, but what if it does lead to finding ArtGirl?

She was right underneath my nose all night, and I had no clue. We probably passed each other at the party like two strangers. What if… What if the girl that I talked to earlier was her?

“Well? You in?”

I look down at the sketchbook in my hand and sigh. I guess Rookie’s plan is better than doing nothing. “Fuck it, yeah… I’m in. Let’s do it.”

I have to find ArtGirl.

There’s no way I’m letting her ghost me twice.

chapter three

Addie

“Hellooooo?”

A faint voice echoes around my bedroom, pulling me from sleep, and I crack one eye open groggily, lifting my head from the fluffy pillow.

“I know you’re in there, Addie. Do not ignore me!” The same annoying voice grunts through the Alexa on my nightstand so loudly that my ears ring.

Groaning, I pull my pillow over my face and flop back down onto the mattress.

Of course this is my Sunday morning wake-up call. A sobering reminder of reality after the party last night.

“Add—”

“I’m coming, Tad, jeez. I was sleeping,” I mutter against the pillow before abandoning it to glance over at the alarm clock on my nightstand. “It’s only 7:00 a.m. What could you possibly need from me at 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday?”

I can practically see his eyes rolling as he speaks. “We took a last-minute order at the bakery, and Dad needs you to come prep the dough.”

“It’s Sunday, Tad. My only day off. Can’t you do it today?” I sigh frustratedly. Even though I already know the answer to that question. My stepbrother would never lift a finger to help the bakery, even though it’s what’s paid for his lacrosse career and the all-boys private Catholic school he attended before starting at Orleans U. He’s spoiled and entitled and honestly… just a jerk.

I’m the one who has to wake up at three in the morning to help Amos do prep in the bakery, barely skating out of the store in enough time to make it to my first class on most days.

Something Tad, nor my stepfather, has ever had to do.

I don’t mind working in the bakery or helping in any way that I can. It’s just the fact that it’s expected of me and that my time is never taken into consideration.

Why would it be when I’m not respected by either of them?

If I was, then Brent wouldn’t be trying to marry me off to the highest bidder to fix problems that he created.

Tad laughs haughtily, and for a second, I think about unplugging the Alexa and tossing it into the trash where he belongs but decide not to because then I’d never hear the end of it.

It’s bad enough that they both drop into the device unannounced with absolutely no respect for my privacy. I don’t think I could handle them showing up in the flesh, invading my little sanctuary in my room above our garage. I try to limit one-on-one… anything with them whenever I can help it.

“Can’t. Busy. You know me and the guys brunch on Sunday. Sorry, little sis. Maybe next time though?”

I scoff, my words coming out in a frustrated rush of syllables. “I really need to work on my art portfolio. Can you please cancel brunch for the day and fill in? Please just help me this once.”

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