He shifts in his power chair and studies me for a solid minute. “And if I still say no?”

“I’ll leave anyway. You said it yourself—what matters most is family, and Cricket might as well be my sister.”

For a few moments, I expect him to shut me down completely, but he tilts his head.

“Have them come here instead. You’re right; there’s no reason we should let the press keep us from important things. However, to protect our privacy, we may have to rearrange things.”

There’s a note of respect in his tone, and I accept the compromise.

Two hours later, I hug Cricket as she walks into the Riscoff mansion, her eyebrows nearing her hairline.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience. But with everything happening, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind too much.”

Cricket releases me. “Shut up, Whit. This is awesome.”

“And when we’re done, we have a champagne lunch waiting for us out in the garden.”

Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. “Are you serious?”

I nod. “I wanted to make today special.”

“Mission accomplished. You’re the best.”

The seamstress arrives moments later, and we move to the conservatory where a pedestal has been set up for the final fitting.

“Are you sure you’re not going to change your shoes? You don’t want to wear heels to the reception?” the seamstress asks.

Cricket sticks her Birkenstock-clad foot out from under the skirt of the dress. “I’m wearing these the whole night. Before the wedding, during, and after. No one is changing my mind, and I don’t care if you think they don’t match.”

I bite my lip to quash my grin, because the seamstress clearly doesn’t know Cricket that well. It comes as zero surprise to me that she’s wearing sandals on her big day. It doesn’t matter that she’s getting married at what is likely the most expensive venue in the state—she’s still Cricket, and that’s just one thing I love so much about her.

“Fine. Fine. I just wanted to give you the chance to change your mind.”

Cricket crouches down so she can address the lady eye-to-eye. “I’m granola-crunchy and I like it that way. The fact that I’m wearing a traditional wedding dress at all is a miracle, and only because my mother-in-law would die if I walked down the aisle in cutoffs and a tank. Got it?”

The woman nods, and I hold back a laugh.

“You look beautiful, Cricket. The dress is perfect. Your sandals will be comfortable, and the wedding will be magical.”

Tension lines my cousin’s face, and some of the happiness bubbling up inside me fades when I realize she’s not nearly as confident about the wedding as I am.

“I keep asking Hunter if we can just cancel the whole thing and elope. It’s so much pressure, and this town has gone crazy.”

Guilt floods me again because when I came back, crazy followed me to town.