by Gigi Blume
Just taking a stroll on the veranda. With a bouquet of flowers. La ti da.
I focused on the view beyond the terrace. The hill leading up to our property. It was a beautiful, clear evening. A little chilly for California, but after getting stranded in Nebraska, this was balmy. I winked at Will the last second before taking my spot next to Mary. That relaxed his face a bit. I almost got a smile out of him. Then the music swelled, Beth appeared looking radiant, and my brother’s face morphed into sunshine incarnate.
It was a special day. I wanted to soak it all up and tuck these little moments in my memories. For my sake and for my parents. I imagined they were there in spirit. The minister began his dearly beloved speech. Beth’s dad handed her off to Will with a handshake. Her mom cried.
I was really trying to pay attention to the ceremony without letting my mind wander to thoughts of Wyatt. What was wrong with me? It was one of my family’s most important life events and here I was throwing myself a pity party. I looked out across the vast lawns of Pemberley for just a second. The security detail were up to something. Congregating with their golf carts. I focused back on the wedding. Bing was digging in his pocket for the rings. A few people chuckled when he pretended he lost them. Lady gently tapped at his pant leg with her furry paw. Everyone awwwwed.
I caught more movement in the corner of my eye. The security guys again, moving around excitedly. They looked like little plastic figurines from where I stood.
Will and Beth had the rings now, ready to slide them on each other’s fingers. My brother was all smiles and sappy eyes.
Beth, it is with all my love that I give you this ring...
Muffled shouts echoed from down below. The guys were yelling at someone. I couldn’t see past where the driveway curved down the hill, but just behind the trees, I thought I made out the outline of a Winnebago. The Winnebago. The security guards rushed behind the trees. I craned my neck but lost sight of them. Then, a figure of a man emerged on the roof of the motor home, waving frantically with both arms. Wyatt. Was he still trying to get his story? He was shouting something at the house.
I take you for now and for always...
One of the security guards was on the roof of the RV now, trying to coax Wyatt down. That made Wyatt wave his arms more desperately, jumping up and down. He shouted louder. It sounded like my name.
“Georgia! Georgia!”
Oh, my goodness. This was his grand gesture? Here. At my brother’s wedding. On a Winnebago. My mouth hinged open and I glanced back at my brother to see if he’d noticed the commotion going on. He was too focused on Beth. I tried to casually slice my hand across my throat in the universal gesture to cut it out. Wyatt was too far away to see. I motioned a little bigger. Then bigger until my arm flew in a grand swiping motion, almost smacking Mary in the face. The security guy had Wyatt in a police hold, hands behind his back.
“Georgia!” he cried even louder than before. “I looove you!”
I felt a hundred eyeballs on me as I watched the guard shuffle Wyatt off. I glanced over to see Will glaring down at the lawns, stormy eyes a fierce blue. Then he turned to me and said, “Is that Ice Boy?”
I nodded, red-faced with mortification. Little Georgia Ruins Things take three.
Clap.
Will ticked his head at Ephraim, our groundskeeper, (who over the years had become more like a cousin we pay to do things) and in a flash he slipped down the back staircase. When I looked back to find Wyatt, all I saw were a couple of golf carts driving back toward the house.
Will cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?”
The minister straightened and humorously addressed the wedding guests, “This is why I never ask if anyone objects.”
That earned him a few giggles. Then he pronounced the couple man and wife. They kissed, everyone applauded, and the Wyatt fiasco was quickly forgotten. By most everyone except me—and Stella—who arched a severe eyebrow at me.
As soon as we processed down the aisle and through the glass doors, Beth took me by the hand, stared squarely in my eyes, and said, “Go.”
“I’m sorry I ruined your wedding,” I sobbed.
“You didn’t ruin anything. Now go get your man.”
I turned my gaze to my brother expecting to see his stern frowny face. But he smiled softly and nodded, agreeing with his wife.
His wife. Gah! So cool.
I gave them both air kisses and took off in search of Wyatt. The RV was still parked on the grounds but I couldn’t find the security team. I went around the house, looking outside and inside with no luck. Where in Pemberley would they have taken him? It’s not like we had a dungeon for intruders. Those guys were just a security service my brother hired out when he had special events. They had limited access.
I was about ready to scream in frustration when I heard a pssst. It was Ephraim at the other end of a hallway. He motioned me over.
“There’s a guy in the media room who wants to talk to you. He seems a little loco, ya know what I mean?”
“It’s okay. You go enjoy the wedding. I’ll take it from here.”
He smirked and trotted back upstairs.
The media room, as my brother liked to call it, was actually a small movie theater with luxury seating. There was even a small concession area in the entryway. I found Wyatt fiddling with the controls on one of the chairs raising and lowering his feet. He jumped up when he saw me enter, taking me in with wide eyes.
“Wow.”
I wanted to fly to his arms. He was grubby looking but I’d missed him. My heart hurt so much. But I wouldn’t be the fool. I wouldn’t let my love for him cloud my judgment. I had to know first if he was here for me or his story. I crossed my arms, mostly to keep them from curling around his waist to squeeze him into me.
He reached his hands out pleadingly. “Before you throw me out or send me to the tower to be executed, hear me out.”
He sighed, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he said, “I had a long drive to think about what I’d say. Grovel. Beg. Try to explain my stupidity. But now—seeing you here—I realize my words are small. Who am I? Nobody.”
I wanted to interrupt him to say he wasn’t a nobody to me. He looked so pathetic, though. Like a sad, hungry puppy. I remained quiet so he could finish his speech.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said after a pause. “Not even close. But I promise, if you give me a chance, I’ll do anything—work my tail off—to deserve your love and forgiveness someday.”
My heart soared. But I didn’t betray that in my face. I recalled what Stella said earlier. How Beth changed her mind about my brother after he told his side of the story. This was Wyatt’s chance to do the same.
“What about your article?” I asked tentatively.
“I don’t care about any of that. I don’t think I ever did.”
His eyes searched mine. Looking for a sliver of hope.
“That was some scene you made.”
He grimaced. “I had to get in here somehow.”
“Oh? Didn’t you have a vendor pass from...T Dawg?” Ugh. It embarrassed me just to use the word T Dawg in a sentence.
“No. I made an anonymous call to the caterer because I suspected T Dawg was selling vendor passes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He sort of let it slip when I phoned him to call off our deal this morning. But that meant my pass no longer worked.” He shrugged. “I guess I shot myself in the foot.”
A sentimental lump swelled in my throat. “You called off the deal?”
“Georgia...” He moved to me, closing the gap between us. I could feel the warmth of his presence. “I should have called it off a lot sooner.” He took my hand. “I’m sorry I ever got involved in that whole thing.”
He was trembling, his breath an anxious quiver as he watched me with imploring eyes. So close. Drawing me in like the center of gravity.
“I’m not,” I replied.
His eyes widened just a little. “You’re not?”
&
nbsp; “No. Because I would have never met you otherwise.” I raised myself on my tippy toes so our noses touched. When I spoke, my lips moved over his in a breathy whisper. “You’re my Christmas miracle.”
He captured my mouth, kissing me with every ounce of his soul. Filling me up. Completing me. My heart squeezed. I loved this hot mess of a guy.
He sucked in a deep breath and wrapped me in the most perfect hug. His heart pounded against my ear. I could have stayed like that forever if I didn’t want to kiss him again so badly.
He trailed a gentle touch over my hair and backed away to cup my face, pressing his lips on mine with several tiny kisses in a row. Then he smiled and gazed in my eyes with quiet wonder.
“I love you, Miss Darcy,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “I know I must drive you crazy…”
“You can drive me anywhere,” I said, shushing him with a finger on his lips. “Even crazy in love.”
Epilogue
4 YEARS LATER
WYATT
Untying the string of my custom made apron, I squeezed JoAnne in a hug. She’d been my gravy partner for five Christmases in a row and presented me with the handmade creation this morning.
“For the best mashed potato server this side of Kansas,” she’d said with a proud grin. She had mad embroidery skills and stitched an image of Reeses with a Santa hat on the front. The caption said Feliz Navidog.
“Another successful year in the books,” I said. After five Christmases serving turkey dinner at Hope Church she and I were the dynamic duo of mashed spuds and gravy. Even though I had my eye on the carving job I didn’t think I could part with JoAnne. Not like Ralph would ever give up his spot.
“Will I see you and Georgia at the cafe tonight?” she asked. “I’ll help out with the children as long as you two sing your famous duet.”
“We wouldn’t dare miss it,” I said. “It’s a tradition.”
I kissed her cheek and made myself a small plate before the Living Nativity got started. Man, those mashed potatoes were good. A.J. really raised the culinary bar since he was allowed in the kitchen for the first time this year. The kid was going places.
Teresa found me, glancing at her watch. “There you are. Ready to get into costume?”
“Yup.” I shoveled the last bite into my mouth and tossed the plate in the trash. “Where’s Georgia?”
“Last time I checked Joy was helping her get ready. I think they’re in places by now.”
Joy was home from college for winter break and had been a big help to Georgia and me.
I thanked Teresa and hurried over to the makeshift dressing rooms. Once I slipped on my robes I went to take my place in the manger scene. Georgia was there already and when I saw her my heart sputtered to a stop. She always stirred little explosions in my chest, but tonight she was exceptionally radiant. Maybe it was the way the warm lights shone on her, casting soft shadows in the folds of her garments. Maybe it was the cream-colored robes with hints of blue stitched in. Maybe it was seeing her with our newborn son in her arms, cradling him gently and lovingly.
Joy was dressed as a shepherd’s wife and it was her duty to keep our two-year old toddler, Noel, from getting into things. So far she was only somewhat successful. Noel already had her sticky candy cane full of hay.
“Look at that,” I said with exaggerated interest. “What is it?”
“Nudding.”
“Nothing? Can Daddy have it?” I glanced over at Georgia and winked. She watched with amusement.
Noel vehemently shook her head. “No.”
“Not even if we trade?” I fished a small plush sheep from the deep pockets of my robes. Noel’s eyes lit up and she happily made the trade.
I held the offending candy cane up for Georgia to examine. “Mary, did you know?”
She rolled her eyes. “I have no idea where she got that.”
“My fault,” Joy admitted. “I didn’t think she actually knew how to open the plastic wrap.”
Georgia and I both laughed. Noel could get into anything if she set her mind to it. We hardly ever gave her sweets but her birthday was Christmas Eve so we let it slide.
I squatted next to Georgia, first kissing little Wolfgang on the head and then my wife on her sweet lips.
“This is a good look on you,” I said between kisses. “And you say you’re not an actress.”
“One night only,” she joked. “Special engagement.”
I raised one brow and clicked my tongue. “Hmmm. I don’t think so. You need to beat Suzy McCormick’s record.”
She choked on a laugh. “Ten kids? Dream on.”
“Six, then.”
We’d talked about having a big family when we were first married. But even then she didn’t think I was serious about it. Oh but I was so, so serious.
She snorted and shook her head. I’d have to use my persuasive techniques later on.
A moment later, Reeses came bounding up into the manger scene dressed as a sheep. One of the ladies in the knitting ministry made him a little costume so he could join us. I had a feeling he’d steal the show. A.J. followed behind with the leash, rolling it up to hide it behind a rock. This year he was promoted to shepherd boy. His grandmother couldn’t be prouder. Lois came along with a camera, clicking away before we were all in our positions.
“Just taking behind-the-scenes candids,” she said.
A.J. scooped Reeses in his arms and posed. He didn’t get the whole candid shot idea. They were quite a pair.
We were roused from the photo shoot to the sound of the megaphone announcement coming down the path.
“Five minutes,” Pastor Kevin repeated at every group until he reached us. He climbed up to clap me on the back. “You ready, Joseph?”
“I was born for this role,” I replied with a wink.
He grinned. “Oh, and thanks for donating the heat packs. I always wondered how they filmed those snow scenes in the movies without freezing their tails off.”
I’d acquired the heat pads from the studio that picked up my latest spec script. I’d sold a couple of screenplays over the last few years, but my main gig was writing for a sit-com. One of these days, once I had more clout in the biz, I wanted to write an epic Sci-Fi flick for my brother-in-law.
Sisters Edna and Patty stopped by to tell us break-a-leg, and before Kevin ushered them inside for the start of the show, he led us all in a prayer.
My heart swelled. I knew Georgia and I would have our large family someday, no matter how many children we were blessed with. These people in the little town of Bethlehem were, in many ways, family to us. It was our second home for several months of the year. A few weeks in summer, some time in the spring, but always at Christmas.
I watched Georgia with her angelic glow, smiling into the distance.
“You just had a happy thought,” I observed.
She hitched one shoulder. “I have an idea for your next screenplay,” she said. “It should involve a grounded plane, an unplanned road trip, and a dog.”
“Oh? Is it a romance?”
She beamed. “Most definitely.”
“Yeah. I think you’re onto something. It could have some adventure, too. The hero’s got to be a real stud muffin.” I stroked my scruffy whiskers. “I’m thinking Henry Cavill or The Rock.”
She gave me a saucy look. “Or...and I’m just brainstorming here...he could be nerdy and klutzy and endearing.”
I tapped my chin, pretending to really think about it. “Hmmm. Do you think our heroine would fall for a guy like that?”
“She’d fall, alright. Right over his dog. Then she’d keep falling until she was completely, perfectly, and incandescently in love.”
A sweet warmth filled my chest. “And how does the movie end?”
Wolfgang squirmed in her arms on the verge of waking and Georgia rocked him softly back into dreamland. She swaddled him in his blankets a little more snugly and kissed his head.
“The ending is easy,” she said with a lovely smile. “The
y live happily ever after.”
“Yes,” I agreed, glancing at Noel who was occupied with her stuffed animal, then back to my beautiful wife. “It’s perfect. They all live happily ever after.”
Turn the page to read Pita My Heart, exclusively in the Backstage Romance Box Set…
1
ROSEMARY
There are few things on this earth I despise. War. Famine. Poverty. Using the same knife for peanut butter AND jelly. But I especially despise Ingram Connery Prescott the Third. Even his snobby, Ivy League name makes me want to gag.
But I’m chill. As long as I can keep all thoughts of him in a galaxy far, far away, my world will continue blissfully Ingram-free.
And I’ve done well to do just that over the years. Except today.
No. Not today.
Surely this must be an elaborate joke thrust upon me by some cosmic mishap—or an ill-natured fairy.
Because oh joy! Ingram stands before me now, wearing that arrogant grin. No doubt harboring unwarranted blame behind those steely eyes. Blame for this ridiculous pickle we’re in:
Locked inside Eugene’s Pita Bread factory.
Just me and Mr. Ivy League.
I could have asked him what he was doing here when I found him in Eugene’s office earlier. He was looking through piles of disorganized files and the sad accounting books. But I didn’t need to. There’s only one reason he’s here. The same as it’s always been with the evil company his father passed on to him. Dissolve, dismantle, and destroy. It should be on their letterhead. Or on their social media banner. Or tattooed on his black heart.
He’s fuming now. I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Yosemite Sam style. He rolled up his shirtsleeves ten minutes ago revealing strong, tan forearms and a gold watch worth more than my car. He keeps checking the time.
Newsflash buddy. Obsessing over it won’t make the minute hand move any faster. Or get us out of this mess. I wonder where he has to be tonight. Maybe he has a hot date. And why does that thought make my insides all twisty?
