Page 197 of The Friend Situation

“And he’s good-lookin’,” she confirms.

“Yes, he is,” I say.

A minute later, he joins me in the back seat. The cab fills with the faint scent of his cologne and sweat. We rolled around at the creek and in the loft, and the sun hasn’t even set. It’s been a day of us just spending time and being with each other. It’s not something we’ve ever had. I’ll cherish today for the rest of my life.

Weston buckles and opens his arms for me to fall into. “You have hay in your hair.”

“So, Weston, do you want kids?” Mawmaw asks.

“That’s a loaded question,” I warn him.

“Lots,” Weston tells her as we approach my childhood home. “I’m letting Carlee decide.”

Her brows rise. “Really?”

“I used to tell Mawmaw I wanted ten kids,” I say.

Mawmaw is giddy with excitement. “Yes, you did. I want all the great-grandbabies. However, I think that means you need to move back to Texas so I can give them Mawmaw’s special kisses.”

I smile. “Weston was discussing buying property.”

“Honey, no. We’ve got a slice of heaven for you on the farm. You can build here. Be close to family.”

“Really?” I ask.

“Every Jolly has ten acres reserved for them if they want it,” she explains. “I’ll sign off.”

I grow emotional. “I didn’t realize … since Dad left …”

“Oh, honey. Just ’cause he was cut out a long time ago doesn’t mean you were. Hudson has the farm maps with the land divided. Just choose a plot.”

Weston’s fingers interlock with mine, and he kisses my knuckles. “See, proof it always works out.”

I grow a bit overwhelmed, and a few tears stream down my face. “Sorry. I’ve had too much to drink,” I tell them.

“Don’t apologize for happy tears,” Mawmaw says, parking outside of my childhood home.

The two-story log cabin is the same layout as the others on the property. The green shutters look freshly painted, and I can see how hard Mom has worked to keep up with the place. My brothers help a lot too. I haven’t been home in years, but nothing has changed.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

My mother steps out onto the porch with a folder in her hand, and I meet her halfway.

“You’re getting married?” She’s excited and happy—I can see it on her face.

Mom pulls me into a tight hug.

“Yes. Tomorrow, hopefully. Mawmaw is pulling strings.”

I flip open the folder, seeing my birth certificate and Social Security card. “I’ll text you all the details once I find out what’s going on.”

“You’d better,” she warns, pulling me back into a hug. “So happy for you, Carlee. If your father had looked at me the way Weston looks at you, we’d still be married. Cherish that, honey. Love like that only happens once in a lifetime.”

“Thank you, Mama. I’m so in love with him,” I whisper, voicing my thoughts.

“I know. I could tell the first time I saw you together,” she says.

Everyone has always been able to see the chemistry we share.

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