He's incredibly lucky we actually get there by 11:30, because despite my commitment to non-violence, I'm pretty sure I would've had to kill him if we'd been late. Between murder and ruining a wedding, the latter is taken much more seriously in the Fisher family.

As soon as we step out of his truck, one of Joanna's chiffon-clad bridesmaids shows up to drag him away, talking a mile a minute and moving at a pace that should be impossible in her current getup. He shoots me one last resigned look and then he's gone. I'm on my own.

Thankfully, I've attended about six weddings at the Hayes Orchards and I know my way around the place by now. The ceremony is set to be in the barn, which has been made over in magical fairy lights and flower arrangements. I snap a few pictures on my way to find my seat, just for future reference. I love Orchard weddings.

Mom and Thea have already taken their places on the groom's side of the aisle. The Kent spot is, as always, the line that marks where family members end and friends begin. As I sit down, I am careful not to look at the empty seats next to us. He always sits next to us, but today I can't look for him. I'm here with Israel.

No sooner has the thought entered my mind than my phone buzzes in my hand, a particularly unflattering picture of Laila lighting up my screen. My fear must be visible because my mom says, "Moa?" in a partly concerned, partly confused way.

Time to face the music.

I gulp, shoot Mom a reassuring smile, and answer the phone. "Hey what's up?"

"Tell me Jen is crazy."

"Well, I don't know who Jen is, but she's probably—"

"Jen, as in the bridesmaid who saw you show up here with Israel!" Laila hisses. "Who also, by the way, says that she switched the seating around last minute because Iz told her you're his date. And now she's spouting this absolutely insane theory about how you two are together because there is no way you two would be together and neither of you tell me about it, right?"

It takes a great amount of effort not to visibly wince. Thank the good Lord I am not a nervous sweater or my outfit would be kaputz. "Uh, well—"

"Turn on video call. I want to see your face."

"Laila, could you just calm down for a second and we can talk about this like reasonable humans?"

"Oh my..." She sucks in a breath. "It's true? Sam, you're dating—I mean, you're with—oh, gross!"

"Just let me explain!" Except now I can't remember a single word of the prepared response I came up with for this. I knew I should've made notecards.

"Is this seat taken?"

I glance up at the very last person on earth I want to see at this moment, who's currently grinning at me in the most charming way possible. Whose idea was it to let him have that blue button down that makes his eyes the color of tropical waters in those commercials about Hawaii? I can't deal with this right now.

Holding one finger up, I give Will my fakest smile. "One moment, please."

"Sam, you are so lucky I'm a bridesmaid because if I didn't have a wedding party to be in I would—"

"Yep, love you too, talk later!" I hang up.

"Hot date?" Will sits down next to me, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Wrong number." I do not yet know if it's safe to use the L word. Post-fight Will and Laila is so tough to navigate, even without the new "I love you" development. Or the wrench I'm currently throwing into the works.

Laila is going to kill me.

I cross my ankles and do my very, very best not to fidget. Between the phone call, the agonizing conversation that I'm certain awaits me after the ceremony, and Will's permanently unsettling presence, I've got enough butterflies in my stomach to fill... something really big. Like that tower in India. Or Pluto. Could butterflies survive on Pluto?

"So what'd you do last night?" Will mercifully pulls me out of the trainwreck that is my mind, bumping my knee with his. His smile is contagious.

"Oh... nothing exciting." I bite the inside of my cheek, just for something to do with all this nervous energy. "Got off work at six, and then just hung around my house. I like to get lots of rest the night before a wedding."

"Really?" He looks at me like he's genuinely interested in what I'm saying. Which is weird because what I'm saying is not even slightly interesting. "I thought you usually go out when you're not hanging out with Laila."

Oh, what? We're using the L-word now? What trickery is this?

"I do," I say cautiously. "When I'm not hanging out with her."

"Yeah, so I just figured you'd have found something a little more exciting to do." His gaze bores into mine in a way that would usually make me feel like a million bucks. But right now I feel like I'm on the hot seat and I don't even know why. What's going on?

Wait. Did he see me come here with Israel? Or has the news already traveled so fast? Freaking Jen.

I'm not ready to have this conversation right now. I need composure. I need time. I need Israel to deflect questions, or at the very least just be there to stuff his tie into my mouth and drag me away before I bury myself in a hole of nervous rambling.

I conjure up an uneasy laugh. "Look, Will, I don't know what you've heard, but I didn't go out last night, okay? I was with Laila the whole time."

He stiffens, and I immediately know that was the exact wrong thing to say.

"That's interesting," he says slowly, "seeing as Laila told me she was on a date last night."

Oh crap.

This wasn't about me at all. And now I've just totally screwed Laila over. Nevermind that I have no idea when she and Will talked, or why she would tell him she had a date when she was stuffing her mouth with potato chips on my couch all night. I need to recover, or I'm officially in the running for Worst Best Friend of the Year.

"Yeah, I meant after her date," I say casually, forcing myself to relax and not speak too quickly.

"And now you're lying for her!" He moves away from me, his cheeks flushed red with what I can only assume is burning anger.

No no no. Salvage. This can still be salvaged!

"Come on, Will, why would she—"

I can honestly say I've never in my whole life been happier to hear the intro to that Bright Eyes song. Snapping my mouth shut, I practically spin in my seat, grateful for a chance to look anywhere except Will. Everyone quiets as the first sets of bridesmaids and groomsmen proceed down the aisle, accompanied by the acoustic music playing over the speakers.

"We're not done talking about this," Will says in a low voice, almost directly into my ear.

There's another fun conversation to look forward to.

Mom looks from me to Will and back to me, raising her eyebrows in a way that asks, Everything all right? I don't know the face signal for No, please strangle me with your purse, so I go for a thumbs up. Because as much as I would love for Mom to fix everything, there's nothing she can do, and I don't want her to spend the whole time worried about me.

Next to me, Thea wriggles and leans, trying to get a better look, so I take her hands and help her stand up on her seat. Laila was supposed to walk with Andrew Yang, Ollie's friend from college, while Israel was paired with Joanna's younger sister. But God must be enjoying my misery, as Israel and Laila are currently gliding past, close enough for me to see the death grip she's got on his arm. I search his face for any of the nerves I'm currently experiencing. He just looks bored.

Meanwhile, I can hardly enjoy the ceremony because I'm so on edge about what's going to happen when it's over. Which really sucks, by the way, because I love weddings. I should be ogling Joanna's wedding dress (gauzy, lacy, total rustic fairytale vibe), or obsessing over how gorgeous the chuppah looks draped in apple branches, or openly weeping at their vows to overcome life's hardships "with each other and for each other". And while I do all of that, a little, I just can't devote the same rapt admiration when I'm trying to read Laila's body language to determine how angry she is, and devising a getaway plan to warn her about the Will issue before he can corner either of us.

I watch Israel, too, because he's my fake date and ignoring him seems like bad principle. Also because the suit fits him like a second skin, as I'd promised, and I so rarely see him in anything but cargo pants and million year old t-shirts; or, if he's feeling particularly fancy, jeans and a beat-up jacket. The suit is a definite improvement.

If only he didn't look miserable. It's hard to believe that less than an hour ago, he was sprawled out on my bed, laughing so hard he couldn't even stop me from sabotaging our game. Now he's practically scowling.

There's something seriously wrong with that boy.

I don't dwell on it, though, because the minister is saying the magic words, "Kiss the bride," and just like that Ollie is married. Ollie, who made Laila and I watch Lord of the Rings when we were seven, and had me convinced for a whole summer that the Black Riders were going to come for me if I didn't do everything he told me to. It's funny to think of him as somebody's husband. As maybe, one day, somebody's father. He's only six years older than me.

The wedding party is coming back down the aisle now, Ollie and the new Mrs. Fisher-Sloane leading the way, and I realize that it's now or never. With a few quick apologies and a lame excuse of needing to use the bathroom, I slip out of our row and make a break for a side door, my movement lost in the commotion of cheers and well-wishes. I know they'll be going to do photos next, and if I can just catch Laila before Will comes to the same conclusion, maybe I can avert disaster.

It's a no-brainer where they'll do the photoshoot. While the Orchard has half a dozen different types of fruit trees that offer a grand old time in the fall, their flowering pear trees are grown almost exclusively for events like these. They don't give a lot of fruit, but their snowy white blossoms are straight out of a fairytale.

I get there just as the photographer is setting up the bride and groom for their shots. The rest of the wedding party stands waiting, chatting and laughing with each other, just as happy and carefree as a wedding party should be.

With the exception of Laila, who is punching Israel repeatedly in the arm. He appears unfazed.

As I approach, I hear her whisper-shouting, "─not believe you! If we didn't have to take pictures, I would so have you in a headlock right now!" She punctuates her words with more punching, apparently not bothered by his lack of response.

He sees me before she does and shamelessly throws me under the bus. "Look, it's Samoa."

The minute she turns around, he's gone, slipping away with the ease of someone who is very familiar with these tactics. I remind myself to be mad at him later. I've got more important things to deal with right now.

Before Laila can start yelling at me, I grab her wrist. "We need to talk."