Meet Me at the Chapel by Joanna Sims Page A

everyone finish a couple of minutes early for lunch.
    He was genuinely happy to see her. That’s what he was feeling—happiness. Perhaps it felt odd because it had been a long time since he had actually felt happy .
    â€œDo you want to spread this out for us?” Casey held out the blanket she had brought with her.
    Brock shook out the blanket and then laid it down in the spot that had become their favorite place to eat lunch together.
    â€œWhat’s on the menu for you?” Brock held out his hand to help her sit down.
    Casey was a petite woman; her hand felt dainty and fragile in his oversize hand. But he knew Casey wasn’t fragile—she was a tough cookie. And she was a lot tougher than she looked by a long shot.
    â€œAvocado and Swiss on rye.” She sat cross-legged on the blanket.
    Casey reached into her basket, a basket she’d borrowed from her aunt, and pulled out two fat sandwiches for Brock and a bottle of water.
    â€œDidn’t Hercules make the trip?” He unwrapped a sandwich and took a giant bite. “Mmm. So good. Thank you.”
    â€œHercules is with Aunt Barb—she’s obsessed with him. And, of course, he’s not going to say no to all of the attention.”
    They chatted easily while they both ate their lunch. Brock thought that Casey looked particularly nice today—she had opted to wear her superthick, waist-length red hair loose today. Usually she wore it in a ponytail or a single braid down her back—not today. Today it swirled around her shoulders, wispy strands dancing on the wind, as shiny as Christmas tinsel in the afternoon sunlight. He wanted to reach out and see how soft it was to the touch. It looked soft.
    â€œI’m going to have to cut lunch short today, I’m afraid.” Casey balled up her wrapper and tossed it into the basket. “My sister is having an ‘I’m almost forty’ crisis.”
    He was disappointed—he had a new concerto he wanted to share with her. And there was something he wanted to talk to her about—something that he knew needed to be said.
    â€œWhat kind of crisis?”
    â€œShe needs glasses.” Casey laughed. “I told her I would go pick out glasses with her. She’s all worried because she thinks glasses are going to make her look old, and here she is a cougar—married to a younger man.”
    The words came out of her mouth and she wished she could reel them right back in. It was hard to constantly avoid talking about Clint when he was such a huge part of Taylor’s life. And, while she knew Brock had his reasons, however unreasonable, she genuinely liked Clint. He loved Taylor and he was a good father to her niece. Whoever Brock was remembering his stepbrother to be wasn’t there anymore. Clint had changed. It surprised her that Brock, who was known to be a tough but fair man, hadn’t been willing to forgive Clint for his past transgressions.
    After an uncomfortable silence, Brock cleared his throat several times. She looked at him curiously.
    â€œAre you okay? Do you need another water?”
    He shook his head.
    â€œNo. I’m just trying to get some words unstuck.” Brock looked over her shoulder before he brought his eyes back to hers.
    â€œI shouldn’t have said all that stuff about Shannon last night,” he finally said to her. “I don’t want you to think she’s a bad person. Because she’s not.”
    Her eyes widened a bit at the turn their conversation had just taken. She had hoped that it was a moment that would just slip away, forgotten by the both of them.
    â€œI don’t want you to think that she’s a bad mother,” he continued.
    â€œI don’t.” She furrowed her brow.
    â€œShe loves Hannah.”
    â€œI’m sure she does.” Casey leaned back from him a bit and crossed her arms in front of her body.
    â€œShe’ll always be Hannah’s mother,” he added as