“Oh,” Vanessa says with a smile. “That’s Sam Henry. He played football with my brother in high school—but don’t even think about going after him. He was single for like a year, but he’s very much taken again now.”

Will steps out in front of the crowd. A few guys whoop at him, and he pumps his fist, making a lot of the little old ladies in the congregation gasp in horror.

“Oh my God, Will is so hot,” Vanessa mutters to me. “Maybe when the minister asks if anyone objects to this union, I’ll jump up and down and holler a lot.”

“I bet Will’s fiancé would tackle you.”

“True.”

“Rory would probably tackle you too.”

“I wish.” She fans herself with the wedding program.

Rory joins Will at the altar; he keeps patting his breast pocket every three seconds—I guess he’s terrified he’ll lose the rings, and if I were Will, I’d be a bit worried about that too.

Instead of organ music, a guitarist begins playing and a beautiful girl with long black hair starts down the aisle, being escorted by a man. They both stop on Parker’s side of the aisle, and the guy doesn’t sit down or move to Will’s side. I open my wedding program. A girl named Kate Kelly is Maid of Honor. And for some reason a guy named Drew Bates is a bridesmaid…? I giggle, loving that she has a guy bridesmaid dressed in a tux.

“Rory looks nice,” I tell Vanessa.

“Agreed. He should wear tuxes all the time.”

“Even on the farm?”

“Even on the farm.”

Suddenly everybody stands and we turn to watch Parker walk down the aisle, carrying a handful of wildflowers. Her creamy dress is very simple and made of lace. It has short, capped sleeves and hangs above her knees. When I get married, I don’t want anything extravagant—I want a dress just like that. She’s not wearing a veil and her long messy brown hair reaches her waist and is all over the place. Will beams and looks like he might cry.

The ceremony is short, but hilarious. Rory, of course, misplaces the rings and spends over a minute searching his pockets. Parker and Will don’t seem to care, as he cups her face, laughing. They never stop smiling, even when the minister accidentally calls Will “Bill.”

And then it’s suddenly over with a “You may now kiss the bride” and for some God awful reason, Rory yells “Get ’er done,” which makes Vanessa bury her face in her palms. The guys in the congregation leap to their feet and cheer and basically act like a pack of hooligan monkeys.

Rory and I ride in Vanessa’s Mercedes to the reception in the Whitfields’ backyard. Glittering lights hang inside a big white tent and tea lights dot the tables. They serve fried chicken and mac ’n’ cheese and lots of other yummy foods on the buffet. An awesome band plays rock music as people alternate between eating and dancing. If I ever get married, I want a wedding just like this.

There really are, like, eight thousand male Whitfield cousins here. With all the floppy brown hair, it’s like a boy band convention, and a bunch of them want to meet me, the “girl horse jockey.”

Rory sneaks two entire bottles of champagne over to us and smuggles the evidence under the table. He and Vanessa start drinking the champagne, giggling like crazy as they feed each other bits of food. I accept a tiny bit of champagne—I don’t want to mess up my training tomorrow morning with a hangover.

Rory and Vanessa keep stealing kisses and somehow end up snuggling under the table with their contraband champagne—and with the options being 1) sit alone at our table, 2) sneak under the table with them (awkward!), or 3) get the hell out of Dodge, I find myself outside, circling the dinner tent, looking back and forth between the dancing and the stars.

The beautiful Maid of Honor is dancing closely with a guy who dared to wear flip flops. A ginormous engagement ring glimmers on her hand. I wish my life could be that perfect. Will and Parker are swaying right next to the couple, laughing and talking to them. The hot usher, Sam Henry, is dancing nearby with an extremely tall blond girl. She looks very much absorbed with the hot usher. For good reason.

Jack is dancing with his mother, twirling her around. I gaze over to Mr. Goodwin’s table to discover him sneaking a hot dog while his wife is busy. It’s like Jack knows I’m thinking of him, because he looks over his mom’s shoulder, gazing at me. Scanning me up and down, studying my forest-green silk dress. He slowly starts to smile and holds up his pointer finger, telling me to wait.

What’s that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to wait for?

That’s when Will Whitfield jogs up and I hug him and tell him congrats.

“Have you seen Rory?” he asks, scanning the tent. “It’s nearly time for the toasts.”

“Uh, you might check under that table over there. He’s drinking champagne with Vanessa Green.”

Will’s mouth forms an O. “Maybe we won’t have a toast from him then.”

“That’s probably a good idea. It’d probably just be a repeat of ‘Get ’er done!’”

“My mom is gonna kill him for that.”

“Who’s that couple who was dancing with you and Parker? The beautiful maid of honor girl.”

Will looks over his shoulder at them. “Parker’s best friend, Kate, and her fiancé. We’ve been friends with them for years. Since right after high school, actually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s funny. I nearly went to prom with Kate, but I liked Parker more. I can’t imagine what life would be like if I’d made a different choice. It would’ve been so easy…but so wrong, you know?”

I nod, feeling my eyes burn. It’s like that Robert Frost poem I read in Mom’s Compendium of Poetry book. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…The narrator had to choose which path to take—just like we all do.

An older guy, one of the eight thousand Whitfield cousins, approaches, smiling.

“This is my cousin, Alex.”

“Hey,” the guy says, shaking my hand. “I’m about to take Meemaw home,” he tells Will and gives him a guy hug. “Congrats.”

“By the way,” Will says to me, “there’s a new litter of Springer spaniel puppies in Tanglewood barn. They were born just this morning to my dog, Ash. Maybe one of them will like you,” he says with a chuckle before heading back over to his new wife. His cousin Alex smiles at me. A genuine, sweet smile.

“I wish I could stay for a dance with you, but Meemaw is getting tired. I’m her ride.”

“Aw, that’s cute.”

“You know what they say—grandmas before girls.”

We laugh together and he glances at his watch.

“I really do want to stay…”

“Next time,” I reply, and he’s gone before I could even flirt with him. As he walks away, he glances back over his shoulder at me.

I must have the worst luck of all time. Dancing with that guy would’ve been awesome. Because damn. Right when I decide to go check out the cupcakes at the dessert table, Jack appears outside the tent.

“Who was that guy?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“One of the eight thousand Whitfield cousins.”

Jack laughs and drags a hand through his hair. “So…want to dance?”

My heart stops. “With me?”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “We need to celebrate your work with Star today.”

Is that what Mr. Serious told his parents or something?

I shrug and let him pull me into his arms. On the outskirts of the dance floor, he and I sway together with an ocean of space between us. This is the most. Chaste. Dance. Ever. He’s not looking at me directly, but I can still feel his hands shaking on my waist. His labored breathing gives away how nervous and excited he is. Even if he’s pretending to not be interested in me, I can tell he is.

“You look pretty tonight,” he says quietly, moving a tiny bit closer to me. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last Saturday, you know, at Miller’s Hollow?”

I suck in a deep breath. This feels like a trap. A trap I kind of want to get caught in. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood…

Earlier today, our fathers didn’t freak out when we were hugging after the race. Maybe us being together would just take some getting used to. But maybe it’s not completely off the table…? I mean, nobody seems interested in the fact that we’re dancing together now. Except for the eight thousand Whitfield cousins who want to talk to the girl horse jockey.

As I’m swaying in Jack’s arms, there’s only one road I want to take. The road with him standing at the end. And it’s not the easy road. I decide to be bold, to take the curvy, pothole-filled path. “I heard the Whitfields have a new litter of puppies in Tanglewood barn. Want to go look?”

A smile leaps across his face. “Get a head start. I’ll meet you there in a few.”

Without another word, I hustle over to the Whitfields’ barn, my heels getting stuck in muddy divots. I follow the sounds of crying and barking, which I can barely hear over the band’s music ringing across the countryside.

I find the dogs in a nest behind a toolbox, and when I see them nursing from the mama dog, I let out a low squeal. “Oh my gosh, you’re so cute.”

Not even a minute later, Jack appears in the barn doorway. He stops to light a lantern and carries it toward me. I instinctively take a step back then stop.

I swallow. “You actually came.”

“All you had to say was puppies,” he replies with a soft smile, kneeling to the ground.

“They aren’t even twenty-four hours old yet,” I say, squatting next to Ash’s little nest she dug out. A puppy chirps, and the mama dog moves to lick it. Seeing how much she loves her babies makes my chest hurt. Love is so simple, but so complicated sometimes.