“My mother is just so delighted I’m finally married. She never once staged a takeover. Well, not much of one, anyway.”
They both laughed. Lilli’s mother, Celeste, was a force of nature. No one said no to the woman—not about her fund-raising events and especially not about her superb taste in...everything else.
“I was as surprised as anyone when she actually let me plan my own wedding. I never thought she’d let me get away with barn chic, but I have to say, her input was invaluable. And we grew close during the planning.”
Zoe forced a smile. A mother who was invested in her daughter’s life. Imagine that.
“What more could I ask for?”
“White cowboy boots instead of sparkly sandals?” Zoe threw out.
“That would have been pushing it.”
“I wouldn’t have complained,” Max added, eavesdropping on the conversation.
Lilli playfully slapped his arm. “When Mom suggested we hold the reception at the Grand Cypress Hotel, I didn’t fight her. I knew Nealy would continue to carry out my vision over there.”
“And peace reigned.” Max glanced at Zoe. “I hate to rush you two, but the photographer is ready for us.”
Glancing around the foyer, Zoe noticed she was the last guest to give her congratulations to the couple. The attendants and relatives were mingling and the photographer politely hovered, waiting to take church shots with the entire wedding party and family.
“Looks like all you have to do is smile and look pretty for the camera.” Zoe hugged her friend. “I’ll see you at the reception.”
Max took Lilli’s hand, drawing it to his lips for a tender kiss. “After you, my wife.”
Lilli giggled.
The sight made Zoe grin as well: rough-and-tumble Private Investigator Max indulging feminine, soft-spoken Lilli. She’d put off the wedding date from the moment they’d gotten engaged, then had slowly dragged Max through the process of the engagement party and the ongoing myriad selection of flowers, music and so on that weddings required. He’d gamely participated when he would have been just as content getting hitched at city hall.
Another friend, Maid of Honor Nealy Grainger, hurried by in a gorgeous pale pink off-the-shoulder, full-skirted dress. “Come on people, we have a schedule to keep.”
A consummate event planner, she’d patiently walked the couple through the entire process, just as excited as everyone else in town to see the two finally married.
“Great job,” Zoe called out after her.
Nealy grinned and waved, the diamond on her left hand glittering in the overhead lighting. Zoe supposed she’d be invited to another wedding soon. It seemed all her friends were getting married lately. Could she handle all the happiness?
“Do you want to head over to the reception?”
Zoe glanced up at Tim. Taller than her, although most people were, his dark hair was neatly cut, his blue eyes lighting up when she met his gaze.
“Sure.” She opened her clutch and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m just going to call my mom and check on Leo.”
“I’ll get the truck and bring it around front.”
Standing on the sidewalk in front of the church, Zoe hit speed dial. Her mother answered on the third ring.
“Hi, Mom. How are things going?”
“Leo didn’t sleep much this afternoon. I’m getting ready to feed him now, then put him down for a nap.”
In the background, she could hear her son, Leo, rambling in his nonsensical baby language. Unable to hold back a smile, she chuckled at the sound of his voice, in awe of how quickly he’d become the light of her life. She’d always wanted to be a mother, but she’d had no idea how much this little bundle of joy would grab and hold on to her heartstrings. After several miscarriages, and almost losing hope that she would ever have a child of her own, he had been her miracle baby. Just a year old, he had her wrapped around his tiny finger. And Zoe’s mother? Let’s just say Samantha Collins was way more of an attentive grandmother than she’d ever been a mother when Zoe was growing up. Still, Zoe was eternally thankful for her mom’s help. She’d stepped up when Zoe had needed her most. Raising a child alone was not easy.
Nor was getting over the death of a husband.
Mitch had started his photojournalist career documenting local and regional current events. As his reputation grew, he covered noteworthy national news subjects, like elections and natural disasters, eventually moving on to photograph world-famous events and celebrities.
But on his last trip, he’d insisted on a different assignment than what he’d normally taken, traveling to a refugee camp to photograph and document its conditions. While there, he’d been killed. She didn’t have many details, only that there had been an explosion.
She closed her eyes and a picture of Leo popped into her mind’s eye. Chubby and healthy, his light fuzzy hair standing on end. The ready smile with a few teeth coming in and rosy cheeks that took her breath away. Hot tears stung her lids. Already at this young age, Leo had that cocky grin Zoe had loved on Mitch. If she’d found out she was pregnant before he’d left, would his knowing he’d be a father have changed things? Would it have kept Mitch from willingly plunging headfirst into danger?
She supposed she’d never know.
“He’s not a big fan of the peas I introduced this week.”
“That’s why he’s getting scrambled eggs. And bananas. Aren’t you, big boy?” her mother cooed. “You should see him holding his spoon. You’d think he could really manipulate it instead of pushing his food to the floor.”
“He thrives on messes.”
“He does, but who cares. His cuteness outweighs the cleanup.”
Zoe’s heart squeezed. She hated being away from him, especially since he’d experienced separation anxiety in the last couple of weeks. He loved his grandmother, though, and Samantha adored him, so Zoe had been able to leave the house today without the inevitable crying.
Leo’s and hers.
“I shouldn’t be late. Maybe I’ll be home in time to put him to bed.”
“Honey, enjoy yourself. Leo is fine. Stay out and have fun.”
Her admonition to enjoy herself took Zoe by surprise. Samantha had been Mitch’s biggest supporter and his death had deeply affected her. She hadn’t been thrilled about Zoe taking the plunge into the dating world. Since she’d favored Mitch so much, in her mother’s eyes, no man could replace him.
Zoe had held back for as long as she could, until the thought of spending the rest of her life alone began to depress her. She’d told her mother and Samantha had apparently gotten onboard.
“I know. It’s just—”
“Zoe?”
“Yes, Mom?”
“I have everything under control here.”
Zoe bit her lip. Growing up, her mother had never been big on responsibility, schedules or running a household. A budding artist, she’d get caught up in her newest project for days, immersed in paint and canvas and flourishes of ideas, forgetting she had to feed a daughter. Or bills to pay. At a young age, Zoe had taken over the mothering role. Old habits died hard, even more so when it came to her son’s welfare.
She blew out a breath. “I appreciate it.” Tim’s truck pulled up to the curb. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will.”
Tapping the end button, Zoe walked the few