Then I smile, realizing Mom is talking me into a relationship with Carter, talking me into giving him my heart—despite Rich’s attempts to make her worry about our relationship. “Thanks, Mom.”

Carter

“I’m glad you’re here, Carter,” Marta says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into her house. “That boy is in a funk, and there’s nothing I can do to get him out.”

“Is he taking his meds?”

“Yes, but he’s not talking. Not to me, not to his friends. He’s not even playing that dumb online survival game he likes so much.”

My chest goes tight. “You should have called.”

“Oh no, you’re busy with your wedding, aren’t you? Isaiah told me your girlfriend’s family is in town, and I didn’t want to bother you again after you two were kind enough to come over here Wednesday.”

“I could’ve gotten away sooner.” I should’ve come over yesterday. I could have made it work—slipped out between the brewery tour and the bachelor party, or even stopped by in the morning.

Marta puts a hand on my arm, warm and soothing. “He’s fine. A grump but not in any danger. Carter . . .” She hesitates a beat. “Do you remember what you asked me a couple of months ago? Before this mess with Isaiah’s accident?”

I draw in a deep breath. I asked her if she thought Isaiah would like to live with me. Marta’s age makes it hard for her to keep up with him. If he lived with me, it would take a weight off her shoulders. But she’d been offended by the offer. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean any harm, and I shouldn’t have overstepped.”

She frowns. “I know you didn’t. But I’ve thought about it, and I think that might be the best for my grandson. If the offer’s still on the table and you’re sure, I think we should let him decide.” Her hands shake as she wrings them together. “But only if he understands that I only want what will make him happy.”

“Of course,” I say softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

She hobbles into the kitchen, and I head to Isaiah’s room. His door’s closed, and I’m surprised when he answers my knock right away.

“Hey, bud. How are you feeling?”

He tilts his head to the side, looking over my shoulder. “Where’s Teagan?”

“Oh, that’s why you let me in so fast. I get it. You only put up with me so you can get closer to my girlfriend.”

He shrugs. “Can you blame me?”

“She had to meet her mom and the other bridesmaids to get their wedding henna done.”

He wrinkles his nose. “What’s that?”

“You know, the designs on the hands and feet?”

“Oh, right.” He nods. “I bet she’ll look hot with that.”

I grunt and sink into the couch. “I’m pretty sure she’s doing it for the sake of tradition and her cultural heritage, and not to look hot.”