The more important thing she'd discovered was that she didn't have a match.
Most days, she was okay with that. But every once in a while, something would happen, like when Mom died, or Nat had Noah, or Nat got married, or Lindsey had to talk into a microphone-especially Lindsey talking into a microphone-that would remind her of the one she'd gotten too attached to.
The one she'd loved and left. The one who hadn't been meant to be hers, no matter what her young heart had wanted. "Some of us are better off single," she said to Kimmie.
"Hey, y'all," a feminine voice said over the sound system.
Lindsey peeked around the tree and a cluster of crashers for a better view. One of CJ's sisters had captured the microphone. And-Lindsey winced-she had a guitar.
"Which one's that?" she murmured to Kimmie. Lindsey was trying to learn Nat's new family-she was-but CJ had eleven sisters. Eleven, scattered all over Illinois. Two had moved to Bliss since CJ decided to settle here, but the sister with the guitar wasn't one of them. And every last one of CJ's sisters was thrilled to finally have a nephew in addition to their plethora of nieces.
Noah had gotten the best Christmas present ever. Lindsey was happy for the little guy, but Kimmie was right. They weren't the three Bliss-keteers anymore. Nat-and Noah-had a new family.
Kimmie peered around the tree too. "That's Saffron. I made her wedding cake last year. She's the one who used to be in Billy Brenton's band."
"Billy … ? Oh, right." Some country music blah blah guy. Noah mentioned him from time to time, but Noah was also easily distracted, which saved Lindsey from ever having to listen to country songs.
"CJ, Natalie," Saffron continued, "since everyone else has a surprise for you tonight, we wanted to contribute one as well." Saffron's husband, also with a guitar, nodded beside her. Lindsey almost smiled. Like Nat and CJ, Saffron and her husband didn't spin Lindsey's internal match-o-meter into stormy weather territory. It was a refreshing break. "Although, this is more for Noah," Saffron said. "Congrats, you two crazy kids. Natalie and Noah, welcome to the family."
Saffron adjusted her mic. She swept a gaze over the crowd, grinned big, then nodded to Dylan. They did some counting thing until both of them were bopping their heads to a silent beat, and then they started plucking and strumming their guitars.
Twang came out.
Lindsey had a clear view of Nat, who laughed. CJ did his pretend wince thing, as though he dreaded hearing his sister sing, but affection shone through. And Noah-sweet, innocent, dark-haired little Noah, the best nephew in the whole world-jumped and clapped. "Yeah!" he shouted over the music.
Saffron and Dylan smiled bigger, then the two of them launched into some lyrics.
Something about second chances and being ready for love and getting over the past.
For country music, it wasn't bad. Very appropriate too, given that this was a second marriage for both Nat and CJ. The twang gave Lindsey another hit of melancholy-there went that old memory again-but at least there wasn't anything about getting drunk or breaking up or dogs running away.
"I love this song," Kimmie said over the music. "It's so-Oh!"
She was looking past Lindsey. She straightened, put her hands to her cheeks. Lindsey turned, but Kimmie grabbed her. "Don't look. Omigod, don't look. Ooooh, pumplegunker. He's-"
Whatever else she was about to say was suddenly absorbed into the sounds of a third guitar.
A third guitar that sent a shivery tingle from Lindsey's toes to her tailbone and up to her touched-up roots. And then a third voice joined in. Softer, deeper, not amplified, but nearby.
Lindsey's shivery tingle went spastic.
And despite Kimmie's grip on her arm, Lindsey turned and sought the voice.
She knew that voice. Deep and strong and steady, with a drawl that made the smiley faces on her panties sigh in pure feminine satisfaction.
Her heart-an organ Lindsey tended to consider petrified by professional necessity-thumped along to the music, climbing higher and higher and bigger and bigger until it threatened to choke her.
He strolled through the tables on the other side of the bar, guitar on a strap over his shoulder, rugged stubble on his chin and jawline, short, sandy curls poking beneath his brown ball cap. His fingers coaxed magic from the strings, and his voice swirled into the room like a warm breeze. The hypnotic sound filtered into her empty parts, her lonely parts, her melancholy parts, amplifying the cracks in her soul. Ancient memories and regrets and guilt split the fractures bigger, wider, deeper.
Her heart beat out a thousand country songs of its own in the span of three seconds.
It was him.
Singing, strumming, making a path through the crowd. Beneath the Second Chance Misfits T-shirt sleeves his arms were more toned than she remembered, the spread of his shoulders wider, his jeans the right kind of perfect to show off his delectable backside.
But it wasn't his body that had done it for her.
It was his voice. His smile. His eyes.
Him.
Kimmie was saying something, but Lindsey couldn't understand the words. The wedding guests squealed. Some reached out and touched him. As if they recognized him. As if they knew him. As if he was famous.
Her Will.
Everyone in this room knew her Will.
Except he wasn't her Will. He never had been.
She'd simply wished, a long, long time ago, that he could've been.
He reached the front of the room, climbed two steps to the small stage and joined Saffron and Dylan, who were both sporting smug grins while they all sang. Will stopped at the third microphone onstage, then his voice came through the speakers too. Lindsey blinked. She straightened against the wall, shrunk farther behind the tree and inhaled deeply. The room was too small. Too small, too crowded, too hot.
I'm going to be president.
It had been almost fifteen years ago, but she could still hear herself.
I'm going to be president, and the world isn't ready for a first Bubba.
She needed to find a way to breathe. To shut off the memories.
And the memories were coming fast and furious.
Will by a fireplace in the ski lodge in Colorado over spring break, watching her with those honey-brown windows to his soul, plucking his guitar.
His adorable country boy smile flashing at her during a snowball fight.
His open, raw, unguarded affection when they'd made love the first time.
Her first time.
Lindsey blinked. Her lungs shuddered for air. She glanced desperately around the ballroom, looking for something-someone-else to focus on before the melancholy beat her. And she found him.
Noah was dancing like a dinosaur with three left feet and crooning along to every word.
With the wrong words, if she knew Noah, but he was giving it everything he had.
Will scanned the crowd, smiling and nodding to the people of Bliss. Making instant friends with the village that had raised Lindsey.
The song came to a drifting halt. Cheers erupted in the room-clapping, hollering, whistling, all of it combining into a celebratory cacophony that was beyond what Lindsey could bear. The noise made her ears ache until the pain spread to her temples, down her neck, to her throbbing, pounding heart.
She didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
Will stepped away from his microphone, reached around both his and Saffron's guitars for a hug, then did a man-shake with Dylan.
Saffron returned to her mic, a grin lighting her pixie face beneath her carrot red hair. "Hope y'all don't mind. We invited one more wedding crasher."
Most of the guests laughed.
"Billy can crash my party anytime," Nat called, and the laughter started all over again.
Will treated Nat to a wink and a heart-stopping country-boy grin.
"I can't believe Billy Brenton is here," Kimmie whisper-shrieked.
The pressure built behind Lindsey's nose.
Her Will had grown up to be the famous Billy Brenton. And now, he was here. In Bliss. At Nat's wedding.
He'd done it.
He'd reached his dream.
She wanted to walk onto that stage and hug him and laugh.
But she didn't have the right. She'd left him. Cruelly. Publicly. Humiliatingly.
And how long had he been a success? Two years? Three? Longer? She didn't know. She didn't follow country music.
She didn't even follow wedding music trends anymore.
She hadn't, not since that spring break.
But he'd done it. He'd made it. And he probably wouldn't care that she was happy for him.
He probably wouldn't remember her at all.
She hoped.
Kimmie gripped Lindsey's hand. "I just want to watch. Don't let my mom find me, okay? She'd-well. You know."
Lindsey winced. Kimmie's mother was formidable enough when she put her mind to regular tasks. Having the opportunity to offer Kimmie to Billy Brenton? She'd be unbearable. And although Lindsey hadn't been a good match for Will-for Billy-all those years ago, she'd wanted him anyway.
He was the only one she'd ever truly wanted. The one she could've loved. And so a not-all-that-small, selfish part of her didn't want to know if Will-if Billy Brenton-would be a not-bad match for Kimmie.
For anybody.
She looked at the stage again.
And gulped.
He wasn't-he wasn't a bad match for Saffron. The two of them together put Lindsey's match-o-meter in sunny beach-day mode. But Saffron was already married to a guy who wasn't a bad match for her.