“You sure? I feel like I’m being an overbearing bitch.” Lora’s voice was playful, but in her eyes I could tell she was really worried that she was overstepping.
“No—not at all. I swear. You run your ideas by me, and I agree or disagree. I like that! Also makes me feel less stressed.”
“I like that you’re doing it too,” Mom chimed in. “Knowing Kandy, she would have just gone to the courthouse and gotten it over with. She needs something special.”
“Same with Cane, and I wasn’t having it!” Lora declared. “I got your back, Mrs. Jennings. This wedding is going to be one for the books.”
“Is wedding planning something you’d like to pursue for a career?” Dad asked. “Totally fits you, with all the wild hair colors and your go-getter mentality.”
“Hmm…I don’t know. I do like decorating things and piecing stuff together, but I’m looking at this as more of a hobby thing. It’s fun, but doing it for real means I’d have to deal with bridezillas, and I’m not up for that shit.”
Dad laughed. “I guess I can understand that.”
“You’d probably give an annoying bride a black eye right before her wedding day,” Cane joked.
I snickered at that one. “I definitely see that happening,” I teased, nudging her with my elbow.
Lora simply shrugged. “Hey, it is what it is. I’m a bitch with an attitude.”
I really was happy having Lora do most of the handy work. All I had to do was say “Yes” or “No” to her options, and she was handling the rest. She and Cane were setting up the guest list, but I did tell her to add two people to it that I hadn’t seen in years, as well as Frankie and Clay, if he wanted to tag along with her. Lora, Mom, Miss Cane, and I were going to spend a day trying on a collection of dresses I’d picked out at a local boutique, and I was super excited about it because it was something hands-on I could do, and one step closer to the big day.
Later that night, when my parents left to go home and Cane and I were in our room with Chance, Cane brought something up that I was not expecting.
“You know what?” he asked.
“What?”
“There’s been something that has been bothering me for a while now. It’s almost like you’ve forgotten about it, or let it go, but I still think about it,” he said, and his eyes had changed, his face slightly more serious. “It comes to mind at least once a week for me.”
“What is it?” I asked, bringing Chance over my shoulder to burp him.
“Well, the shit that happened at Notre Dame, with you losing your scholarship because of the people who ratted us out…”
“Oh, God.” I groaned and closed my eyes for a split second. I hated reliving that horror. “I haven’t forgotten about that. Trust me,” I mumbled.
“But you damn sure don’t talk about it.” Cane extended his arms, reaching for Chance. I lowered him, carefully shifting him from my arms to his dad’s. Cane cuddled him into his chest and rubbed his back to get him to burp, and there was always something about that gesture that made me all fuzzy and warm on the inside. Chance burped and his eyes drooped. Cane rocked him softly, putting his focus back on me.
“I don’t like thinking about that for a reason, Cane. When I do, I just get angry all over again. I used to constantly wish I could go back in time to stand my ground a little more, you know? I guess I just felt like I had no options back then; I didn’t want you outed or your reputation ruined. If it happened right now, I would absolutely call them out.”
Cane sighed. “Well, you know how I am, and you know it’s hard for me to let shit go.” He looked me in the eyes, and that look alone—the one where his eyes turned a slight shade darker and his eyebrows were drawn together—said it all. He’d done something that he knew I wouldn’t be pleased to know.
“Oh, no. Cane, what did you do?” I straightened my back and he looked away, turning with Chance in his arms.
“It’s not that bad,” he mumbled. “Not harsh enough, really.”
“Just spit it out.”
He faced me again, exhaling. “Okay, look. When that shit happened, you were so upset, and I’d never heard you get so mad at me before. You’d never called me and broken down like that—or even talked to me that way. It was years ago, honestly, and I didn’t want to tell you because I did what I did out of anger…”
“What did you do?” I demanded.
“Kandy, that school let you take all the flack for what happened between us, which was fucking personal and happened off campus. And what really pissed me off was that they didn’t contact me about what happened to confirm it, and they didn’t even give you a fair chance to stay, and you worked your ass off for that scholarship. It was all some made-up, textbook bullshit about school conduct, and to be honest, they played favorites. You were new, and not many people knew you, but they knew the kids who ratted on you very well, knew they were good at the sports they played, and they chose their side. I looked into those kids, and the girl was a big player on your team, and the boy, Brody,” he gritted through clenched teeth, “he was a good football player. They chose their athletes over standard.”