The half-hearted sentiment earns me another sigh from Hallie. “Last week he said he hadn’t heard from you since March.”

“Phones work both ways, Hallie,” I point out.

“He doesn’t know what to say to you, Saylor. When he called about being engaged, all you said was ‘Okay.’”

“I barely know the woman! What was I supposed to say? ‘Glad she’s closer to your age than mine. Big relief none of my old classmates are going to be my new mommy’?”

A third sigh. “None of them were that young,” Hallie says in his defense.

“Jessica was twenty-six.”

“She was?”

“Yup. She asked me if I thought she could pass for twenty-four because that was the age she told her modeling agent.”

Hallie laughs. “You’re making this up.”

“I’m not that creative.” I tuck my phone between my cheek and shoulder so I can pull my hair off my neck. Not that it makes any difference. I can feel a bead of sweat trickling down my spine.

There’s a quiet snort, then Hallie settles back into her serious tone. “He asks about you all the time, Saylor. They’ve still got some stuff to sort out for the wedding. I’m sure he’d love to know your opinion.”

“I can assure you it’s nothing I would have an opinion about. I’ll show up. Doesn’t make a difference to me if there’s cupcakes or donuts at the reception.”

“They already decided on a traditional cake,” Hallie informs me.

I let out a dry laugh. “Of course they did.”

“Have you booked your ticket?”

“It’s still three months away, Hallie.”

“Plane tickets only get more expensive.”

“That’s a myth,” I counter. “They drop them closer to the date, then raise them again.”

“Is it about the money?” Hallie asks. “Because you know Dad will pay…”

“It’s not about the money. I’ll book one tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” There’s a pause. “Well, get back to the art. Love you, Sis.”

Hallie hangs up before I have a chance to say it back. She’s not expecting me to. Probably because I never do.

Chapter Four

Natalie shows up in Kluvberg on Saturday with five other girls in tow. They all survey me with a hero worship I should probably be flattered by but mostly find to be annoying.

Except for one.

“Scott!” London Reynolds squeals as I walk into the café we agreed to meet at, giving me a quick hug. In a bid to spend as little time at home as possible, I’ve spent the past decade attending every skills clinic and soccer camp across the country I possibly could. I don’t think London had the same motivation, but we’ve overlapped at more clinics over the years than I could count. Outside of my Lancaster teammates, she’s one of the few people I’ve played with on a regular basis in recent years.