Maybe This Time(31)

“I was saving these.” He held out my shoes for me.

“Thanks. Wish I would’ve had them ten minutes ago.”

That’s when he seemed to realize I was favoring one foot. And that’s when I realized my skirt was still halfway up my thighs.

I tugged it down, my cheeks going pink. “I stepped on glass.”

It took him a second to process those words, and then his eyes shot down to my foot. “That sucks.” He took two steps back. “Well, see you later.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He laughed. “Okay, so here are your choices. Fireman’s carry or piggyback ride.”

“I don’t need you to carry me. Just lend me your shoulder and carry this bouquet.”

“Really?” he asked. “You’re going to be stubborn about this? Why am I surprised?”

“I’m wearing a skirt, Andrew. I am not jumping on your back.” I gestured for him to come closer and he stepped up next to me, offering his shoulder.

I handed him the bouquet and grabbed hold of him.

“Do you want to put on at least one shoe?” he asked.

“I’ll probably twist my ankle if I try to hop in one heel.”

“True.” He took a step and I jumped forward, my toes squishing in the muddy grass.

We moved like this all the way back to the Stanton Estate. Andrew was bent as far forward as he could go, and held the bouquet under the shelter made by his chest. After navigating the walkway and many misplaced items—a shawl here, a glass there—we finally made it inside.

I thought there would be a loud mess of guests clogging the halls, but it was like a ghost town. Micah, who must’ve heard the door open, poked her head out of the kitchen.

When she saw who it was, she smiled and joined us. “Where have you two been? You look like a couple of drowned rats.”

I took the bouquet from Andrew and held it up. “Is Janet still here?”

“She was on her way out a minute ago.”

“Will you check? Or find her mom or someone?”

“Of course. What’s wrong with you, though?”

“Stepped on glass.”

“That’s why we wear shoes at weddings, darlin’,” Micah said, laying on a thick Southern accent.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You just sounded eerily like my grandma.”

She took the flowers. “I’ll take care of this.”

“I think I got it from here,” I said to Andrew when she was gone. “The bathroom is literally ten steps away.”

He hung his wet jacket on the coat rack by the door and dropped my shoes beneath it. “I think I can handle ten more steps. I made it this far.”

We did our awkward dance to the bathroom, where he opened the door and led me in. There was a long counter and I leaned back up against it.

“Here,” he said, “just let me.” He put his hands on my waist, and I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do until he lifted me onto the counter. I let out a little gasp. He offered me a wide smile, then shook his head, sending water spraying. I held up my hands with a squeal I hadn’t meant to release.

He laughed and then squatted down, his hand brushing along my calf until it reached my ankle.

Tingles spread up my leg all the way to my stomach. My cheeks went hot, and I leaned my head back against the mirror to try to keep that fact to myself. He wasn’t allowed to have this kind of effect on me.

“Wow,” he said.

“What?” I asked. Was he really going to call me out on the fact that I was blushing? He so would.

“This is a decent-sized piece of glass.”

I wiped at some water that was still dripping from my hair down my temple. “Oh. Yeah. Micah has Band-Aids in her just-in-case if you …”

I trailed off because he was giving me a stare of disbelief. “You think a Band-Aid will work on this?”

“Probably not.”

He started opening the lower cupboards. “Maybe they keep a first aid kit in here.”

“Actually, they do,” I said, remembering. I leaned over to the far side of the counter and opened the mirror cabinet. A white box with a red cross sat sideways on the first shelf. I plucked out the box and opened it. Inside I found some gauze pads and a roll of white tape along with little packets of ointment. I pulled out the supplies. “If you want to go get Micah, she can help me. You might get blood all over your nice pants.”

He reached behind him, pulled a fancy towel off the rack, and draped it over his knee. “Would you stop trying to talk me out of helping you? I can be a nice person every now and again.”

“Fine.” I unwrapped the gauze and squeezed some ointment onto it. “Just do it fast. Once you pull that glass out, it’s going to gush.”

He smirked at me from his crouched position. “This might hurt.”

“Why do you look like you’re going to enjoy that?”

He let out a single laugh, yanked out the glass, and dropped it in the trash by the toilet.

I swallowed down my scream of pain and Andrew quickly applied pressure with the towel, both his hands wrapped tightly around my foot.

“Mr. Stanton is not going to be happy about his ruined towel,” I said.

“I’ll buy him another one.”