Quinn looked at her. “I wasn’t sure it was appropriate to talk about it considering all you’re dealing with.”
“Are you kidding?” The light changed and Carly stepped on the gas. “Please, let’s talk about something other than me.”
“Well, we have a date and a venue and yesterday I booked our honeymoon.” Quinn stared out the window, eyes glassy. “It’s like a dream, really.”
“Where are you going? Wait—let me guess—Utah? No, Colorado?”
She shook her head. “We’re going to Paris. Grady doesn’t want to ski on our honeymoon. He said he wants it to be about me.”
Carly reached over and squeezed her little sister’s hand. “Have I told you how happy I am for you both?”
Quinn squeezed back. “No, but you’ve been a little busy.”
“Well, I am.” Carly pulled her hand back, thankful she could say those words and mean them. “I love Grady—we all do.”
“He’s pretty great.” Quinn angled her body toward Carly. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“It’s just, Jaden’s getting older. I hate the thought of him going off to school—or training, whichever—and you being here alone.”
Carly shrugged. “I’m a big girl, Q. I can take care of myself.” She forced a smile, but her throat had tied itself into a knot. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself—and another human being—so why did the thought of being alone settle so poorly on her shoulders now?
“I know you can,” Quinn said. “But it would be nice if someone else took care of you for a change.”
Yes, it would.
Carly pulled into a parking space in front of Hazel’s Kitchen and looked up at the ceiling to keep from crying. She couldn’t allow herself to entertain the idea. She couldn’t let herself think of Josh mowing her lawn, weeding her flowerbeds, buying her a new state-of-the-art mower. She hadn’t said so, but that old mower was one she bought secondhand and it was always a crapshoot whether or not it was going to start.
He’d obviously known that. And he hadn’t asked—he’d just done what needed to be done.
Why couldn’t you have done that for the last sixteen years?
It didn’t matter. Carly had spent her whole adult life becoming the woman who needed nobody but herself. Nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had changed.
It was as if Jaden’s diagnosis and treatment had shone a spotlight on her own fragility. Was it possible she wasn’t as indestructible as she thought she was?
They each opened their car doors and stepped out. Quinn was telling her about the Parisian flower markets when she stopped mid-sentence. “Is that Josh?”
Carly followed her sister’s gaze across the street, where she spotted Josh exiting Dandy’s Bakery with a leggy blonde.
The woman was young, slender and clearly spent a lot of time in the gym. And she was beautiful.
And all at once Carly wished she’d taken Quinn’s advice and changed her clothes. Fixed her hair. Put on some makeup.
She grabbed Quinn’s arm and pulled her into the hardware store.
“Who is that?” Quinn’s eyes followed Josh and the blonde as they walked down the street in the opposite direction. They stopped in front of the fudge shop and went inside.
“I have no idea.”
“Is he dating someone?”
Carly pretended not to care. “Beats me.”
Maybe he was. Maybe this woman loved Josh and wanted to marry him. Maybe she’d surprised him because he’d been gone too long and now he was doing the polite thing and showing her around his hometown.
But then that meant he’d been lying to her. Had everything he said last night on the porch been a lie? And why did it matter? It wasn’t like she wanted those things to be true.
“We came here to shop,” Carly said. “Not to spy on Josh.”
Amusement washed over Quinn’s face. “Okay.”
“Can I help you girls?”
They spun around to find portly Ed Delancey, owner of the Harbor Pointe hardware store, staring them down. He wore a plaid shirt, denim overalls and work boots, same thing he wore every single day, Carly suspected.
Once when they were kids Quinn had swiped three root beer barrels from the candy counter and their dad made her bring them back in and apologize. Ed Delancey had been suspicious of them ever since.
“We’re good, but thanks,” Carly said, pushing Quinn toward the door.
Quinn giggled as they went back outside.
“All right, little sister,” Carly said, needing a distraction. “What’s left to be done for this wedding of yours?”
Quinn linked arms with Carly and gave her a squeeze. “Well, there is the small matter of my bridal shower.”
Carly gasped. “Oh, Q. I’m supposed to plan that, aren’t I?”
Quinn shrugged. “Knowing Beverly, it’s probably mostly done. She was going to get started because she didn’t want you to be stressed about it, but I don’t want you to feel left out.”
“I’ll call her,” Carly promised. How could she have forgotten one of her main duties as maid of honor? She’d always thought she’d make such a wonderful maid of honor—obviously she’d mentally exaggerated her own abilities.
“Good. She told me at Sunday dinner she’d been searching online for shower games and she found one called ‘Put a Ring On it.’” Quinn shot her sister a look. “Please don’t let that happen.”
Carly laughed. “I promise. I won’t. I much prefer the one called ‘Lady Marmalade.’”
Quinn pulled her arm away. “You’re hilarious.”
“It sounds like you have everything all figured out,” Carly said, willing herself not to so much as glance at the fudge shop.
Quinn stopped. “Not everything.” She’d stopped directly in front of Ever After, the only store in Harbor Pointe that carried formal gowns. Nearly every homecoming, prom, bridesmaid and wedding dress was purchased here, and Carly hadn’t been inside since high school.
Before she could reply, she saw the door to the fudge shop open out of the corner of her eye, and the leggy blonde walked out onto the sidewalk.
“Great,” she said, shoving Quinn through the door of Ever After.
The building, like all of the buildings downtown, had a brightly colored exterior, eclectic and charming at the same time. The brick on the outside of Ever After had been painted Pepto-Bismol pink, with large display windows on the main floor. The second story was lined with tall, skinny windows encased in thick white molding. The words Ever After had been painted on the front window in a beautiful hand-lettered font.
The store was charmingly old with an equally charming (and equally old) owner named Dorothy Mischief. Carly had a theory that the old woman had made up that name years ago, but she had no proof.
Dorothy, or “Dot” as her friends lovingly called her, had been a Harbor Pointe staple for as long as Carly could remember, and her store, small and quaint, actually did quite well.
As soon as the sisters strolled through the front door, Dot clapped her pudgy hands together and gasped. “Girls! Look who it is.”
She rushed out from behind the counter toward them, and Carly looked around the empty store, wondering who Dot had been shouting at. She leaned toward Quinn and whispered, “Are you famous now?”
Quinn shushed her and smiled at Dot. “Mrs. Mischief, I bet you know why I’m here.”
“All those weddings you’ve worked on this past year, and now it’s finally your turn.” Dot took Quinn by the shoulders and gave her a shake. “It’s about time you married that hunky Olympian.”
Quinn’s cheeks pinked. “I was just waiting for him to ask me.”
“Well, I already started a list of dresses I think would look stunning on you,” Dot said. “Polly!” She called out the name as a round girl with dark hair emerged on the landing above them and Carly couldn’t help but feel like they’d entered the letter shop in Mary Poppins. “Can you pull the dresses for Miss
Collins?”
Quinn beamed. “That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
Dot glanced at Carly as if she’d only just that second realized she was standing there. “And we haven’t seen you in here in ages, Miss Collins. I assume you’re the maid of honor?”
“I am,” Carly said. She didn’t melt when people talked about weddings. She didn’t swoon or sigh or even care much about the pomp and circumstance. A wedding, to her, was secondary—it was the marriage she craved most.
The thought startled her. Not that she’d had it—she’d always known she wanted a real family, and a husband was required for such a thing—but because she’d had it so openly. Typically she was better about deceiving herself.
“What colors are we thinking?” Dot glanced at Quinn.
“Teal? Peacock blue? Aqua? Something in that family.”
Dot brought her hands to her lips and squealed. “So beautiful. Let me see what I can do.”
She led them to the back of the store where the changing rooms were. The only problem? The changing rooms had no mirrors. Carly assumed this was a sales tactic on the part of sneaky Dorothy Mischief. After all, if a bride exited the changing room to all the oohs and aahs of her adoring friends and family, wouldn’t that make the dress all the more appealing?
Within minutes, a rack of white dresses had been positioned just outside the dressing rooms. Some were beaded and elegant. Others were puffy and princess-like. One was short and another sleeveless, and no two dresses were the same.
Now Quinn was the one swooning. “They’re so beautiful.” She pulled one off the rack, the one with a tulle skirt that would make it impossible to hang back up. “Don’t you love it?”
Carly didn’t know when she’d stopped wanting to look like a fairy princess— maybe when she’d realized fairy tales didn’t come true, and the dress didn’t appeal to her at all. Still, there was no way she was bursting her sister’s wedding bubble.
“It’s really pretty,” she said.
“It’s stunning,” Dot said from behind them. “Absolutely stunning.”
Quinn reached over to the rack and pulled out another dress, this one the exact opposite of the first. “Here.” She shoved it toward Carly.
Carly took a step back. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“You can’t just sit there while I try on all of these dresses.” Quinn stared at her, wide-eyed.
“You want me to put this on?”
“Yes, Little Miss Grumpy. I do.”
Carly shoved it back. “No way.”
“Carly, come on, at least pretend you’re having fun.” Quinn pouted the way she did when they were kids. It had never worked—Carly couldn’t understand why she still did it. “I’m only going to get married once.”
“You know this is not my thing, Q,” Carly said.
“Today, pretend like it is.” She shook the dress out toward Carly. “For me?”
Carly sighed. “You owe me.” She snatched the hanger from her sister and scowled.
“When you get married, you can force me to do something I don’t want to do.”
“Like let me elope?”
Quinn gasped. “That’s not even funny.”
“Not everyone has been planning their wedding since they were a little girl,” Carly said.
“I haven’t even done that,” Quinn said. “But now that I met Grady . . .” Her voice trailed off and she turned wispy and weird. “I can’t explain it. I just want everything to be perfect.”
Carly stared at her, waiting for her to snap out of this fantasy.
When she finally did, Quinn shot her sister a look of annoyance. “Try it on. And you have to come out here in it to prove you actually did.”
“Fine.”
In the quiet of the changing room, Carly hung the dress on the hook and stared at it. It really was beautiful, the kind of dress Carly would’ve loved to get married in. If girls like her got married.
She ran a hand over the simple A-line, fingering the beaded belt and the tiny details that likely only the bride and groom would be able to see. It was exquisite.
She undressed, then slipped her feet into the sleeveless dress with an elegant line of sparkling beads outlining the high neckline and zipped it up.
Was this the kind of dress she would’ve worn if she’d accepted Josh’s proposal all those years ago?
People said a lot of things about Josh Dixon, but Carly knew he’d at least try and do right by her. But she had it in her head that they were too young, and she didn’t want her pregnancy to be the only reason they got married.
“It wouldn’t be,” he’d said. “We’d get married because we love each other.”
They were sitting on the top of a sand dune, overlooking the lake, and she’d just told him about the pregnancy test. Seeing a positive result had nearly knocked the wind out of her—she’d run to the car wash where Josh worked and pulled him out before he could even tell his boss where he was going.
He’d taken the news better than she had, but then, reality probably hadn’t set in. Suggesting marriage before high school graduation was ludicrous. And yet, shouldn’t they get married? Wasn’t that what good Christian girls in her situation did?
“The offer stands,” Josh said. “It’ll always stand.”
“We can’t get married, Josh. We’re kids.”
Kids who shouldn’t have had sex. That’s what their parents would say.
Oh no. Their parents. Her father. How were they going to tell them?
“What’s going on?” Josh said. “You just turned pale.”
She blinked and tears streamed down her face. “My dad is never going to speak to me again.”
“He will,” Josh said. “Just maybe not for a little while.” He stood and walked a few steps away, then turned back to face her.
“You’re freaking out,” she said.
He pushed his hands through his hair, eyes wide. “A little.”
She screwed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into them. “This is a disaster.”
Quickly, he was at her side. “No, no. We’ll figure it out. I promise. We’ll figure it out together.”
She looked up into his eyes and he used his thumb to wipe another tear away. “You promise?”
He kissed her forehead. “Always.”
“Carly?” Quinn’s voice pulled her back to the present, where she found herself standing barefoot in a wedding dress.
Of all the ridiculous . . .
“Come out!”
She let her eyes graze the long, white satin, and she couldn’t help but wonder when everything had gone upside down. What made him decide to break his promise? She and Josh had been young, yes, but they did love each other.
Didn’t they?
She pulled back the curtain and found her sister standing on the other side, wearing the poufy princess dress with a tight beaded bodice. Carly couldn’t believe how stunning it looked. On the hanger, the dress had looked borderline silly, like something a Barbie doll would’ve worn.
But on Quinn? It was perfection.
For a brief moment, she forgot she was wearing a wedding dress too.
“You look gorgeous,” she said.
Quinn’s eyes brightened. “I haven’t looked yet. I was waiting for you.”
“It’s stunning. If you don’t get it, you’re bananas.” She smiled at her sister.
“Nobody gets the first dress they try on,” Quinn said.
“That’s not true,” Dot piped up. “Happens all the time.”
Quinn grabbed her hand. “Let’s go look.”
Carly pulled away. “You go look. By yourself. This is your day—I’m just here for your amusement.”
“But, Carly, you look so beautiful it makes me feel like crying.” Quinn’s eyelids fluttered, as if blinking back tears.
“Well, don’t cry,” Carly said. “I’m not even a real bride.”
The bell on the front door jangled, pulling Dot’s attention. “Oh,
girls. I’ll be right back.” She shimmied off, leaving them alone at the back of the store with nothing to do but go stand in front of a three-way mirror.
“Here I go,” Quinn said.
Carly moved back as her sister stepped up on a small platform, admiring her reflection for several seconds before spinning around. “It really is beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Carly said. “The dress is just icing.”
Quinn smiled. “It’s going to be hard to beat such a knock-out dress.”
“And to think, I thought it was truly hideous before you put it on.”
Quinn gasped. “Mean!”
Carly laughed.
“Get up here.” Quinn stepped off the platform and motioned toward it, as if Carly should be overjoyed to take a turn peering at a future that would never be.
She groaned. “This is so incredibly silly.”
“Well, you might’ve given up on finding Mr. Right, but I sure haven’t.” Quinn tugged Carly’s arm. “He’s out there, and when you find him, you’re going to be a stunning bride, even in that plain old boring dress—”
Carly gasped as Quinn pushed her up onto the platform.
“That you somehow turn into something only royalty would wear.”
Carly faced the mirror.
“One more thing.” Quinn pulled the hair tie out of Carly’s hair and her long, chocolate waves tumbled over her shoulders. Quinn stood behind her, eyes shining. “You’re like something out of a fairy tale.”
Carly stared at the way the dress showed off her curves, the way it cinched at the waist, making her look slender and small. It was simple and maybe a little plain, but to her, it was perfect.
Inexplicable tears sprang to her eyes, and she willed them away with sheer stubbornness, same as she’d done a thousand times before. She knew the truth about fairy tales, after all.
They didn’t come true.
I will not cry. I am strong. I am independent.
“It’s okay to dream, big sister,” Quinn whispered.
Carly’s eyes found Quinn’s in the mirror, and she did a quick about-face. “Sorry, kiddo. This is just not my cup of tea. You know me, jeans and tanks and ponytails.” She stepped off the platform, still willing away the emotion that had formed a tight ball at the back of her throat.
Just One Kiss: A Harbor Pointe Novel Page 22
