Finding Our Course (Finding our Way 3)

Her face splits into a blinding smile and starts to beam. She lifts her left hand and wiggles her ring finger.

“Holy shit! Really?” Quinn bumps me, and we both gush over the gorgeous emerald cut diamond. “When?”

“Last night after the rehearsal dinner.”

“Morgan did a good job. I’m impressed with the grease monkey.” Quinn winks, and Crystal blushes.

The term grease monkey is no longer an insult to Morgan Drake. It’s now a term of endearment that he owns with pride. True to his word that day in the coffee shop, he’s built a business and will give Crystal the world. Since they’ve gotten back together, she’s worn a smile on her face and the unmistakable look of love every day. The ring isn’t a surprise at all.

“I’m happy for you.” I throw my arm around her.

“I hate that you had to go through the years of heartbreak, but let’s be honest, this rock outdoes anything he could have given you at eighteen.” Quinn joins in our hug, squishing us all together.

“Quinn!” Michelle comes in, shaking her head. “Sometimes, I don’t know where she gets her manners.”

“What manners?” I question with a straight face then lose it, howling.

“Jeez, I feel like an old maid. I’m only twenty-four, but still,” Jamie adds.

I share a look with Quinn, and we know it won’t be long. Nate’s crazy about her. Bryce has told me more than once that it’s inevitable. There’s really no longer a Nate without Jamie. She’s included in all our family events, including my graduation last month, and my mom adores her.

“Jamie, we’re an anomaly. I’ve known Bryce since I was twelve. Crystal dated Morgan for years before college. And Quinn is just lucky,” I try to reassure her.

“Ow!” I rub my arm where Quinn pinched it.

“Hussy, pretty sure he’s the lucky one. I’m a hot commodity.”

“Oh lord.” Michelle hangs her head in embarrassment. “Poor Dean.”

“Mom!”

“Anyway, Jamie,” I go back to her, “you aren’t an old maid.”

“Well, congratulations, Crystal. Your ring is beautiful.” Jamie flashes a sincere smile.

“How about some champagne?” Sheila starts pouring before anyone answers.

“Okay, girls, time to get Devon dressed.” Mom comes back in.

We do a quick toast, and Mom goes into the bedroom to help me. Once the dress slides down into place, Mom starts to cry. I try to comfort her, but she throws her arms out, stopping me.

“We can’t mess up your hair and makeup,” she wails, putting her head in her hands.

“Quinn! Mom’s finally lost it! It’s time!”

The door swings open, and Quinn busts through with our emergency bag in her arms. The rest of the women are on her heels. When Sheila’s eyes land on me, she immediately starts to sob, too.

“Ladies, let’s have a seat.” Crystal ushers them to the bed, fully aware of our crisis plan.

Quinn lays out tissue, a handheld fan, an additional make-up bag, shot glasses, and a bottle of tequila.

“Karen, come here. Close your eyes and stay still.”

Quinn uses the handheld fan to dry my mom’s tears and blots her cheeks with the tissue, careful not to remove all of her makeup. When Mom’s face is dry, Crystal takes the fan and repeats the same process with Sheila.

Jamie starts reapplying their make-up, and I notice Michelle biting her lip, holding in laughter.

Mom’s eyes well up again when she looks at me, and Quinn spins her to the mirror. “Lock it down, Karen! We don’t have time for this. Remember, we’re on a strict schedule here… and God knows, if Devon starts wailing because of your emotional outburst, we’ll never have a wedding.”