How to Make a Wedding: Twelve Love Stories

He needed something else. “How about this? I noticed your design degree and chef school certificate in the kitchen. Your place is gorgeously decorated. I recall you were master decorator of the school’s renovation.”


He and his woodshop class buddies had taken care of the outside—Meadow the inside. She’d done fantastically. Her work had earned scholarships to a premier design school he didn’t think she could have afforded otherwise.

Regret slammed him over his mistreatment of her and kids like her, harassed when they should have been helped. She and her siblings had been among underprivileged outcasts made fun of by so-called privileged kids like him.

He was obviously being handed a second chance here. To Colin, part of godly sorrow meant righting the effects of wrong conduct.

“We can barter and each pay for our own materials. I fix your catering kitchen, you feed my vet buddies a few meals and help me decorate my new place, and we’ll call it even. The house—and my pole barn office-slash-shop—are complete construction-wise, but the insides are drab, blank palettes of possibility.”

“That doesn’t solve my business dilemma. I have contracted caters.” The weight of the cave-in ramifications must have set in, because she pressed her fingers to her temples. Volcanic panic was an understatement for the expression going live on her face.

“You could work out of my pole barn kitchen until we fix yours. I have a huge space, with a comfortable new couch you could sleep on, if you like.”

Visions of wedding tulle, rainbow silk flowers, satin napkins, bows and lace, fine china and crystal assaulted him. He’d seen evidence of it everywhere at her place.

He hated frilly things, food, and breakable stuff in his workspace. He shivered.

Still, he needed to man up here.

Meadow’s hands fell stiffly to her sides, revealing her simultaneously hopeless and suspicious. “Why are you doing this?”

“Honest truth? I’m not sure.”

Her lips pursed. “Guilt, maybe?”

“Or maybe just because it’s the right thing to do and I spent too much of my life doing the wrong thing.” He held her gaze with enough gravity to hopefully begin convincing her he’d changed.

She searched his eyes in earnest. Then shook her head, broke eye contact, and paced. “Flora sure is taking a long time on that call.”

He suspected she stayed gone on purpose. Why, he had no clue. To help his cause?

What had swayed Flora? Knowledge of his family struggles? Few people knew his parents had indulged him financially and materially but neglected him relationally and emotionally. Had his mom really shared that with Flora? If Meadow knew, would she have compassion for him despite all he’d done in the past?

Colin always had a tough time being vulnerable. But he’d do it if it would help Meadow forgive him.

Colin sent a mental prayer up for wisdom and right words. “You have good reason for not trusting me, Meadow. If you want, let’s have Pete draw up a contract.”

Her face lessened in skepticism, her arms relaxed, and she shrugged at his last suggestion. He hoped that meant she was letting down her guard. He not only wanted to fix the damage in her kitchen but wanted to repair the pain of her past and make up for the anguish he’d caused in her soul.

As a Christian, he needed to find a good local church and get involved. He was back, but he wasn’t the same. Things couldn’t be the same; he’d make sure of it.

First item on his Meadow Agenda: Earn her respect and forgiveness.





“Colin McGrath is the last person I want help from.” Yet here she was, shoving entrees in the fridge in his pole barn, where she’d slept the past three nights. Meadow groaned.

Flora, seated at a table Colin had scooted in for them, flipped through Meadow’s appetizer book without comment. Her sister’s silence spoke volumes. Meadow sighed and disinfected counters she’d prepped event food on. “To be fair, Colin made me feel welcome.” Linens he’d provided were so comfortable, she’d slept like a brick.

“Don’t be stubborn.” Flora started logging RSVPs to her and Pete’s wedding.

Anxiety in her voice gave Meadow courage to set her feelings aside for the sake of her sister, understandably stressed. “You’re right. Don’t worry. Your wedding will be perfect.” She massaged Flora’s tense shoulders, then opened her wedding décor craft bin.

“Thanks. I know this is hard on you too.” A baiting look entered Flora’s eyes. “Colin sure went to extra specialness to make you feel at home here.”

Meadow loaded a pearlescent glue stick into her hot-glue gun. Then she spread out a satin keepsake napkin. “Out of sheer guilt.”

“I don’t know, sis. He lingers looks your way. You’re available. Word on the street is he’s eligible—”

“That will never happen. Once a bully, always a bully.”

Flora straightened suddenly. “Nice place you’ve got here, McGrath.”

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