"Bloody birds. Shut up,” he snarled and dragged his pillow from the bed and slammed it down on his head, hoping to drown out the birdsong.
But it was no use. Nothing worked. The still strong autumn sun had long beaten a path through his bedroom window and the birds were now in full chorus. He gave up, giving them a scowl as he hauled his sorry butt towards the shower.
Maybe that would clear his head, lighten his mood.
"Not damn likely,” he grumbled as the full force of the shower hit him.
He stayed under the pulsing jet spray until the water turned frigid. Snapping off the faucet he toweled dry and dressed.
Thank God it was Sunday. At least he'd get some peace and quiet from the regulars. Their incessant questioning about Taylor's whereabouts was driving him nuts, and the fact that he couldn't answer them, made it a hundred times worse.
What was he going to do? Give up?
After his third strong, black coffee, loaded with caffeine, Cade thought perhaps he could face work, so he headed downstairs to the back room and his computer.
"Work, is what I need.” He grimaced as he eyed the piles of unopened mail. What was wrong with him? He thrived on work, on getting it done. Yet, here it was unopened for days.
An hour later, the pile hadn't diminished, and he'd achieved zilch.
"Come on, Harper, get it together.” He grabbed the nearest pile and began sorting through it, but hadn't gone more than the first couple of accounts when a thunderous knock resounded on the side door of the premises.
Cade ignored it. Maybe they'd go away. But it continued. Louder and more insistent with every thunderous rap.
"Damn it, it's Sunday,” he snarled as he wrenched the bolt back and opened the door. “Hugh?"
"Gotta talk, Cade. Gotta figure it out.” Hugh Prendergast didn't wait to be asked in, but barged past Cade and headed straight through to the bar. He grabbed a tumbler and punched it under the whiskey nozzle three times, filling his glass. Cade watched as his normally staid best friend downed the contents in one unbroken guzzle, then replenished it before turning to face him.
"You don't look too good, mate,” he said to Hugh, which was an understatement. With black circles shadowing sleep-deprived blurry eyes, Hugh looked like death. Stubble grazed his chin, and his normally dapper appearance was overshadowed by clothes which he'd obviously slept in.
"Same could be said about you."
Cade paused and eyed his reflection in a nearby window. Day old growth, bleary eyes. Yep, he looked a wreck. He turned back to Hugh. “Where's Brianna?"
"We've argued. It's over."
His jaw dropped. “You're joking?"
Hugh sank into the chair behind Cade, dropping his head into his hands. “Wish I was.” His red-rimmed eyes glistened.
This was serious.
"I should have been like you."
"What do you mean? You love Brianna."
"I know, and I do. But, oh hell,” Hugh let out a few blue expletives, and Cade winced. Hugh didn't swear. Hugh was the good boy, always in control. Knew where he was going, loved Brianna from the moment he set eyes on her.
Just like you and Taylor.
Shut up! Cade refused to listen to his inner ramblings. They didn't matter. Taylor wasn't interested.
"Look, phone her. I'm sure it's okay. New marriages always have blips."
"You reckoned marriage wasn't worth it. You're right. It's not."
"You don't mean that,” Cade said shocked at Hugh's despondency.
"Why not? You do."
"Yeah, but ... Look, Hugh. I'm not the marriage kind, but you are."
"What about that new woman ... Taylor? Katie said you're hot for her."
"Katie should mind her own business.” Taylor had stipulated once only, and that's what she got. “Don't worry, it was a once only. She's not interested in more; besides she's got a thing going with ... ah, someone else,” Cade informed his friend. “A dead guy."
Hugh's shock was obvious. “Hell, tough opposition."
"Good pun."
"Sorry. Tough call, though."
"You're telling me. How the hell do I compete with a dead guy?"
For a few seconds Cade was lost in his own misery, then shook his head and focused on his best friend. “Come on. Leave that drink. I think coffee's on order. Strong and black. Then maybe you'll be able to think straight.” Cade hit the kitchen, switching on the kettle and getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cupboard. The irony of what he offered Hugh as a medicine for his marital woes wasn't lost on him, considering the vast quantity of coffee he'd used to drown his sorrows over the last few days.
"So, what went wrong with Taylor?"
"A one night stand. That's all.” He shrugged, knowing it was absolutely nothing like it.
"I would say there's more to it than that, by the look of you,” Hugh said as he took his cup of coffee from Cade.
Tendrils of white steam spiraled from Cade's coffee. He stared at it for brief moment. “Nah. Nothing else. It's over."
He took several draughts of his coffee, eyes closing momentarily as he let the hot liquid revive him. No sleep. No concentration, and now Hugh on his doorstep wallowing in marriage dramas. What else?
"She dumped you!” Hugh spluttered into his coffee. With great precision he placed his cup on the paper-strewn coffee table. “The woman dumped you. My God, I can't believe it."
The pulse in Cade's throat skittered, and his jaw clenched. “It happens,” he said trying for nonchalance, while inside his gut churned. It hurt. He couldn't believe how much it hurt. And it shouldn't. Letting it hurt made it way too close to home. Too close to his past, and he wasn't about to let his past hurt impinge on the present. Cade definitely didn't want to care. Caring hurt.
"She doesn't answer my calls,” he finally admitted.
"Think she's trying to tell you something?"
"Loud and clear.” Cade reached for his coffee and gulped back the remainder.
"And the problem is?” Hugh prompted.
"The problem is, mate, I feel like I've been shafted."
"Women don't shaft you, Cade. You're the guy that loves and leaves ‘em."
Yep. The truth hurt. This was a different truth, however, and one he didn't want to face and determined to change the way this conversation was going. “Your wife loves you, Hugh. You love her. It's as simple as that."
"Good deflection, Cade."
Cade offered his friend a sheepish grin.
How come it sounded simple for everyone else when his life was a disaster area? Zane had said his mother left because of their father. But she didn't just leave dear old dad; she left him, Zane and Katie, too. What about them?
"Brianna told me to go,” Hugh said breaking into Cade's morose miasma.
"Why?"
"Says I'm married to my job, not her."
"Oh..."
"What do you mean, oh?"
"That's big stuff for a woman."
"And you should know; you've had plenty of them."
"Low blow, Hugh."
Hugh dragged a hand through is carrot-top curls. “Yeah, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. I've got a tough hide. Look, buy her some flowers, some chocolates. But most of all, Hugh, go home. Tell her you love her, run the bath for her, give her a foot massage, anything that tells her you appreciate her. Work is important, I'm the first one to agree on that one, but you're a team now. You can't spend twenty-four/seven hunched over a computer program anymore."
"Yeah, I know you're right."
Cade smiled at his friend. They'd been through a lot. It was good to be able to help him. “So what are you doing here?” Cade pushed himself away from the bench and strode toward the door with Hugh following.
"You sure you're okay about Taylor?” Hugh asked.
Cade wasn't about to let his friend start up on that again. “Don't worry about me."
Hugh eyed him with that steel gray gaze of his, the one Cade had seen him use when trying to
suss out some computer programming glitch. “You've changed, Cade."
"Enough,” he said and gave Hugh a playful push. “Go home. Love her like there's no tomorrow."
Cade stood at his door and watched Hugh walk the short path from the side exit to his car, all the while his own advice rang hollow in his ears—and continued to ring long after Hugh had departed to make amends with his bride.
Hugh had accused him of changing.
He had.
The trouble was, Cade wasn't sure he wanted change or what to do about it. It scared the hell out of him. But there was something else that scared him more—something exciting, and new and very tempting.
The lights of the jukebox blinked a kaleidoscopic chorus of colors. Standing in front of it, Cade searched for one particular song, found it, and punched the button. The soft whirring of electronics clicked into gear and then the song started. Soft and gentle and full of memories. Memories not yet twenty-four hours old though they haunted him as if as old as time.
Do you care—enough?
* * * *
She didn't want to think about the setting, though it was the perfect spot for a wedding.
Just not hers. Not here. Or anywhere, for that matter.
The pall in Taylor's stomach knotted, and she had to steady herself. She loved Cade. He just didn't love her, couldn't let go of his “abandonment” long enough to trust in the present.
But Greta Peters and Erueti Nathan were going to love their wedding. It was everything they ever wanted, and then some. That little bit extra had been Taylor's idea.
Her visions, her dreams.
Today she was giving her dreams away.
May had given way to June and the crisp air hung fresh, the sky a cloudless blue. In the garden bordering the drive to the church entrance, buds of early blossoms poked through damp ground, their fragrance scenting the air.
It was beautiful. Everything was set. She surveyed her work. Bouquets of rose buds lined the altar, and the gold and pink and blues of the stained glass windows glittered like jewels and lit the grand old church.
Taylor smiled. She'd done well. Her couple's fantasy wedding would come true.
"I can't believe it.” Hair flying in her wake, Nita scurried down the aisle toward her. “Have you got the French ribbon? The four inch wide with golden angels?"
"Of course, in here.” Taylor scrambled in her emergency box but came up empty. “It was, I know I put in here. I never forget things."
"Tell that to the good luck fairy.” Nita's worry lines deepened. “This hasn't been your week for luck, Taylor. Your mind is elsewhere."
Taylor straightened and rubbed her suddenly damp palms down the side of her dress. “Not now Nita. I..."
"You've been preoccupied by a hunk."
"No!” She gripped her bag with knuckle-white intensity, but knew her denial to be futile.
Nita rested a hand on her shoulder. “It's okay, Taylor. You're allowed to love. Rob wouldn't want you to still grieve."
"I'm...” But Taylor couldn't finish the sentence. Did Nita think she pined for her dead fiancée? How far from the truth could she be? She hadn't loved Rob, at least like she should have. And that was why she couldn't trust herself now. Oh, she loved Cade. But he didn't want her, and she couldn't give herself to someone who didn't want her.
One day, when she had thought Rob asleep and sat at his bedside, the tears had come and she wept for the liking she had mistaken for love.
But Rob had woken and in that fleeting moment when the subconscious fights with the conscious, she had seen the comprehension in his eyes. He knew her lies.
And she had seen his hurt, too.
He never said anything and had died with the hurt inside, leaving Taylor with the guilt.
"I won't crawl, Nita. Cade needs to figure out that he is himself and not a product of a marriage disaster, nor is it a predetermination for his own"
"My, you have been digging deep."
"I had a phone call from his brother, Zane, that's all."
"And Zane filled you in on the psyche of his brother?"
"Something like that,” she agreed, not wanting really to tell Nita the whole story.
Cade blamed his mother for leaving his father, but in fact his father's drinking had started the process long ago. But when she left, she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, no way to take her children with her. However, Cade blamed his mother for abandoning him and to this day lived his life by what he perceived as her mistake—to him.
And now, she and Cade were the victims of everyone's lies and truths and hurts.
With Nita offering to save the day, and racing back for the Angel ribbon, Taylor paced the church, glancing at her watch every few seconds. Why was it when disaster struck, time seemed to stand still?
"Taylor?"
Taylor's heart did a triple flip, overtaken by a sudden sense of deja vu. “What are you doing here?"
"Not ‘Hello, Cade. Nice to see you'?” he quipped.
Taylor willed herself to remain calm, balling her hands at her sides, when what she really wanted to do was run them through his hair, hold him and kiss him—a lot.
"You look good. New outfit?” His brows wriggled his approval while his gaze lowered, slowly, teasing over each curve. His lips were pursed as if he was deciding something. “Where have the gray suits all gone? Do they have a ‘suit’ heaven?"
Taylor found herself pulling at the hem of the dress she wore. Nita had said it was okay. It felt far too short.
"The suits weren't that bad."
He gave her a “Really?” sort of quirky smile. “Yes, they were. They covered you neck to knee, hiding the real Taylor Sullivan."
"So is this better?” she asked, unsure why she actually wanted his approval.
With sparkling glints in his eyes, Cade appraised her.
Nothing had changed. The same old temptation, the quirky good boy versus bad boy that had hooked her in the first place.
"Turn around."
"What?"
"I said turn around and give me a twirl."
A Taylor erupted into a fit of giggles. “You're joking; we're in a church."
He glanced over his shoulder toward the closed wooden doors. “Nope. No one around. Just us two. So how about you show off your new dress."
"I ... simply went shopping, that's all,” she hesitated, though her voice sounded far more composed than she felt.
"Brave move."
"What do you mean?"
"Whoa, don't get all sparky; although, I do remember a mighty fine spark a few nights back, Ms. Sullivan."
Taylor grabbed his elbow and spun him away from the altar. “Your soul will be damned in the flames of hell if you talk of that here."
He shrugged. “Already halfway there. At least, it seems so the last few days,” he said cryptically. “New make-up and you smell good, too,” he said, dropping his head to hers and inhaling her perfume. “Sweet scented lilacs. Just like my granny used to grow."
Taylor's jaw dropped. “I didn't know you knew those sorts of things."
"Ah, but that's it, you, Taylor, don't know enough about me, yet."
Taylor busied herself with her clipboard and kept her gaze firmly fixed on the page, which wasn't much use as every number blurred, and the list of names read like a pile of mumbo jumbo. “Well, this is all very nice, but I'm sorry you can't stay; I've got a wedding to get organized."
"I can't leave yet,” Cade said succinctly.
Oh, boy. The revving butterflies in Taylor's belly began their frantic partying once more. “Why not? Are you guest?” She reread the names on her board. “Oh, God, have I left your name off? What a disaster. The whole week, the ribbons."
"Taylor. It's okay. I'm not a guest. You were going to twirl for me."
"Twirl?” she repeated, struck dumb for a second. “Cade, you didn't come here just to get me to twirl in a dress. This is ridiculous."
"You're right.” He winked at her, dimples denting his tanned c
heeks and when she looked back up at him, his eyes glittered with humor.
"So ... what?"
But Cade never had the opportunity to answer as a breathless Nita entered from the side vestry waving a giant roll of ribbon. “I've got it. On the desk where you put it before we left,” she said, wagging a finger.
Taylor gave Nita a grateful smile and, taking the reel, turned to Cade. “I don't have time to talk now. I have a wedding to finish and not much time left."
"Can I help?"
"You want to help?"
"Yeah, why not; you know, the knight in shining armor to the rescue thing,” he grinned.
Don't do that, Taylor screamed silently. Don't smile, don't tempt me. Please. She'd only just got herself on an even keel, managed to stem the loneliness.
Who are you trying to kid?
For a moment, which seemed to stretch a lifetime, Taylor looked at Cade. From his tousled hair that tipped the collar of his shirt, to his unshaven jaw. She remembered the heat that stubble had affected as his lips had kissed hers, remembered the brush of his hair as it tickled her electrified skin.
"Taylor, they're nearly here.” Nita reminded her.
Taylor shot into business mode. “Okay, you're on. I need you."
Never had she ever said a truer word.
"Right, what do I do?"
"Take the ribbon,” she said pointing to the huge reel of ribbon Nita carried. “Start it off at the center point on the rafters, winding down in a spiral. You'll need eight spirals in all to hang to all eight points of the dome."
"Got it."
Cade grabbed the roll, and at a run, snatched the ladder that leant against a pew. He positioned it beneath the center of the dome and scooted up, tack hammer in one hand, the reel in the other, tacking the ribbon in place. “Here's the reel, start rolling, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to Taylor and passing her the roll.
Working quickly, she unwound the reel so it corkscrewed into a long strand. Once at the far corner, she cut it and Cade who'd followed her progress, scooted over and tacked the end of the first spiral in place so that it hung in a gentle sweep from the dome to the walls.
Turning to start the second one, Taylor faltered and came up hard against Cade's chest. She put her hands out to correct her balance, which along with everything else, could be added to her lists of mistakes.
He's the One Page 17
