The Color Project

He sticks his tongue out. “No thank you.” Then he nudges my arm. “Just be sure to tell me if something happens. I want to be in the know so I can kick that boy right in the baby-maker if he tries to hurt you.”


I laugh so hard at this, I feel my face getting red.

My dad raises one eyebrow. “I was serious.”

“I know, Papa. I know.” I wipe my eyes free of tears.

“What’s going on?” Levi asks, coming outside again. He looks at me curiously. “I keep finding you with your face all red.”

I gasp out a ridiculous sort of squeak and say, “Um, my dad was just…being weird.” I put both hands on my dad’s back and push him toward the door. “He was also just leaving. Go on, shoo-shoo. I need to work.”

Papa shrugs, patting Levi’s arm on his way back into the house. “Don’t let her eat you alive,” he whispers at the last second.

“Whose side are you on?” I shout, then drop my head in my hands, listening to Levi’s quiet chuckle. The door shuts but I’m still hiding. (And I’m still reeling from my dad using the words “baby-maker” in reference to Levi.)

Speaking of… He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Bee,” he says, and when I don’t move, he drapes one arm around me. (Nonononono nooooooooooo.) (But also: YES.) “You look embarrassed,” he says, teasing in his voice.

“Let’s just say my dad has no shame, living in a house of mostly girls.” I look up and grin. I can’t help it. Smiling is my mouth’s automatic response to seeing his face.

“Oh, it’s the same with my mom, having lived with only boys for nineteen years.”

“I’m glad someone shares my pain.”

He smiles and nods at the work table. “Can I do anything else?”

Just like that, I’m back in stress mode. I reach for one of the last buckets. “If you could cut three of each of these flowers to the same length as my examples, that’d be great.”

He gets to work, his fingers quick with the knife. I arrange the flowers as he passes them to me. Eventually, I break the silence between us. “How are things coming along for the fundraiser?”

“Great, actually.” Levi passes me a stem of hot pink sprays. “Aside from the catering mix-up.” He glances at me. “Seriously, dude, you have no idea how easy you’ve made this for me.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

He cuts two more stems down before saying, “Did you figure out what to wear?”

“Actually, I have two dresses I’m deciding between.” I set the last flower into the last vase and sigh happily. “Done!”

Levi stands back and looks at my handiwork. “Ivanka is going to love this.” He pauses, his thumb brushing a tiny spray rose. When he opens his mouth again, his words surprise me. “Once we put these away, can I see the dresses?”

“I mean…um…” I clear my throat. “Yeah. Sure.” I gather two vases and gesture for Levi to do the same. We put them in the garage fridge (which barely closes, it’s so full) and head back inside. “Here, I’ll grab the dresses.” I reach my door, opening it, about to let Levi in when—

I jump back. “Um, I forgot to clean my room. You can’t come in.”

Levi shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.”

“You’ve been busy lately. It’s understandable.”

“Yes, but I still don’t want you to see it. It’s…awful.” Okay, it’s not really, but it’s bad enough to be embarrassing. “I’ll be right out.”

He stays obediently in the hallway. I grab the dresses on their hangers, and a few seconds later I’m standing in front of him, holding them up for him to see. One is navy blue with an empire waist and loose pleats in the skirt. The other is green and fitted, patterned lace forming to its shape. It’s a total hip-hugger, and when Levi immediately points to it, I blush. (Why am I blushing?!)

“This one. Absolutely, one hundred percent.”

“Really?” I squeak out.

“Yeah. That green will look beautiful on you.”

I think my throat is closing, but I force words out anyway. “That’s…sweet.” Oh gosh, Bee, keep it together. He just called the dress beautiful and you’re acting like he proposed.

“Trust me?” he asks.

The question tugs at the corners of my mouth until I’m grinning. “I think so...”

“Good. Because if you don’t wear it…” He gives me a pointed look.

“What? Are you threatening me?”

He laughs. “God, no. I’m just…well, yeah, actually. I am. Watch out—you don’t want to incur my incredible, overwhelming, and absolutely terrible disappointment when you show up in a dress just as beautiful.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m laughing, too. “You’re the worst at threats, you know.” I dodge his hands, which are—to my absolute horror—reaching out to tickle me. “Don’t!”

“You’re no fun, Bambina.”

“Stop!” I shriek as he reaches for me again. I’ve cornered myself, but I’m quick to open my door and rush inside, shutting it in his face. “My name,” I yell, “is NOT Bambina!”

I soak in his laugh through the door as I lean against it and hug the dresses to my chest. In the heat of the evening, with sunshine littering my room, I imagine that his laugh commands the sun’s rays, and the sky is bursting with our joy.





Chapter 20


It’s nine o’clock in the morning and I’m late for work.

Scratch that: I’m late for everything. Since I’ve pushed work back by a half hour, I’ll be not-so-fashionably late to the fundraiser. My dress is hanging in the back of my car, and I turned off the music a long time ago because my head is pounding. I hardly slept at all last night, stuck on the wedding, bursting with ideas and the WORST headache ever. I even dreamed about destroying the wedding.

So this day is off to a fabulous start.

I pull into the parking lot and run like a madwoman into the shop. I gasp out insane-sounding apologies about traffic and the zipper on my brand new dress, but Tracy just waves her hand at me. “Be quiet and work.”

I smile nervously, grab a bucket from the cooler, and start.

The morning goes by much too quickly. Between managing the front desk and changing out the buckets and loading up my car with the arrangements I made yesterday in the shop, I can hardly breathe. I think it’s my clothes, despite the fact that I chose sweat pants and a loose T-shirt. (Actually, they chose me. They’re what was left of my clean clothes. Somebody help me.) Tracy kicks me out of the shop at eleven-thirty, exactly fifteen minutes after I was supposed to leave. “Get out of here, crazy. You’re going to miss everything.”

“Thank you, Tracy,” I say, my body filling with relief, even as I think, Tell me something I don’t know.





I drop the vases and flower crown and boutonnieres and bridal bouquet off at Levi’s house. He’s already gone, as I expected, but Suzie and Elle and my family are in the back, setting up.

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