The Tattered Bride

by Peri Elizabeth Scott

  “Robert Vermette.” Her brother-in-law’s voice was clogged with sleep and she did the math. He and Paige would still be enjoying the last hour of slumber before the morning rush of getting the kids ready and off to daycare yanked them into wakefulness. Victoria decided she didn’t much care if she’d robbed him.

  “It’s Victoria. Logan’s here.”

  Two beats of quiet, then, “I see.”

  “What’s your advice?”

  “Legal or otherwise?”

  “I’ll listen to both.” The booze must be making her magnanimous.

  “You can obtain a restraining or—”

  “I know. I know. And embarrass myself, waste a whole lot of time, and end up with bad publicity. Logan would never harm me. But he needs to stay away.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “You know more than you’re saying.”

  “Privileged.”

  Holy shit. Robert blew it, and deliberately because he’d never risk it with anyone he didn’t trust. He could get thrown in front of the bar association. He was bound to avoid even announcing an affiliation with Logan. “I see.”

  She desperately wanted to know the capacity in which Logan had employed him when it hit her between the eyes. Robert would never take her ex on as a client unless the reasoning was such that he couldn’t refuse. Thoughts and impressions teemed through her brain in never-ending streams, and she wished she hadn’t emptied half the damn bottle into her cup. Nothing fell into line to explain anything, but all the conclusions she’d drawn from the pictures and news articles crumbled beneath the onslaught.

  “Victoria?”

  “I’m trying to think.”

  “Give him ten minutes to explain. That’s my advice. Even five.”

  The entire unwieldy structure she’d built over the past month creaked alarmingly and shifted. She put up a mental hand to shore it up and gritted her teeth. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t let myself hear it.”

  “Oh, Victoria. No. Logan had his back against the wall. Nothing like that will ever happen again. He’ll never hurt you like that.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do it.” And she couldn’t. “Thanks, Robert, and sorry I woke you.”

  “Victoria.”

  She was going to change her name to something like … Mud. “Give my love to Paige and the kids.”

  So she was a coward, no surprise. When the going got tough—personally … emotionally—Victoria Sparrow took off running or hid behind a cleverly constructed edifice only she was allowed to live inside. And understand, apparently.

  As if by magic—or by interfering brother-in-law—her cell rang. “Hey, Mom. Up early?”

  “Robert called.”

  “Right.”

  “Grow a pair and see him, Tori. Talk to Logan.”

  Grow a pair? Was her mother on social media again? Watching sitcoms? “I can’t.”

  “I know it’s scary. It challenges how you’ve operated most of your life, and damned if I could make you do it any differently then.”

  Damn Mother’s wisdom. “I have to go, Mom. I’m late for work.”

  Her mother was silent, only the faint noises of apartment sounds permeated Victoria’s hearing, those and the pounding of her heart. “Think about it, honey.”

  “Okay.” Her mother always knew when she was lying so it was all right to say it.

  None the wiser as to how she was going to deal with him, she went to take a long, hot bath. Lying in the tub, bubbles popping softly around her and the soothing scent of lavender wafting through the steamy air, she drifted until the water cooled, thinking about precisely nothing.

  Clean and refreshed, she toweled off and wandered back to bed. Curling up beneath the linens, she cautiously switched her brain back on. The good night’s sleep hadn’t done a thing to give her any new ideas, but she could at least take today.

  The intercom buzzed, and she set a pillow over her head. With her luck, Dawna would have disregarded her request and be at the door with soup. It buzzed again, and she tossed the cushion aside, glaring. Fumbling back into her robe, she stalked over and pressed the button.

  “Yes?”

  “Delivery for you, Mizz Sparrow.” Emilio’s cheerful voice didn’t make her smile. What was he doing working on a Thursday?

  “Why are you on the door?”

  “Brett called in sick and we’re down to four days a week at the plant.”

  It was ludicrous to have a conversation with that nice man who was finding it difficult to make ends meet. “Just a delivery?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get it tomorrow.”

  “Probably best if I brought it up today.”

  Was it something alive? Like more freaking flowers? A puppy? She’d always wanted a dog, and Logan had promised—argh! She was going insane. “What is it?”

  “Brunch.”

  Brunch. “Who sent it?” Like she didn’t know.

  “It doesn’t say.”

  The press and release thing on the intercom was making her tired. She pushed the button one last time—she hoped. “I’ll come get it.”

  Fitting her breasts into a bra, she pulled a t-shirt over her head before stepping into fresh underwear and a pair of yoga pants. Finding her keys and a five-dollar bill, she caught the elevator to the lobby, where Emilio waited with an enormous box and an equally big smile on his face.

  “Taking a day off?”

  “No. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Then you should have let me bring this to you!”

  “It’s fine. Seriously.” She slipped the five into his hand—he always protested at anything larger—and hefted the box. Something cushioned reposed inside and she indeed could smell food.

  “It’s from one of the best restaurants in Boston,” he confided. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard about it.”

  She knew Logan was the sender, but there wasn’t a garbage can big enough in the area to stuff the damn thing into it. How did he know she wasn’t at work? “Share it with me then.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that.”

  “You can.” She looked around and marched the box over to his desk.

  He stood awkwardly for a moment and then hurried to pull his chair out for her. She sat and commenced the opening of brunch while he dragged a stool over.

  “Don’t look so anxious, Emilio. If someone comes, deal with them. I thought you said it was quiet most mornings once people have gone to work.”

  “It is. But this isn’t … I mean you’re my boss. Well, not exactly, but…”

  “Eat.” She’d dug the covered dishes out of the heated knapsack and peeled the tops off. Eggs benedict, hash browns, toast, a side order of crisp bacon and a sealed thermos of lattes. Real cutlery was wrapped in fabric napkins and the plates and cups were actual china. No wonder the thing weighed a ton.

  “Do you eat like this all the time?” Emilio gingerly took a serving and tasted the eggs.

  “No. This is my version of comfort food.” Damn you, Logan. She wasn’t going to let the memories get to her.

  “You need comfort?”

  “Apparently so.”

  Her appetite surprisingly came back, enough to eat one egg on a half slice of toast, a spoonful of potatoes, and two strips of the bacon. The latte was perfect and she sipped with her eyes closed.

  “It’s working. The comfort thing.” Emilio beamed at her. “You look comforted.”

  If only it was as easy as that. Food, Mother Nature’s anti-depressant. Too close to Mother’s wisdom. “I’m feeling better,” she allowed.

  “Did he hurt you?” Wide face flushing, the man looked away. “Gordon told me you had a stalker. I’ve been watching for him.”

  Great. Logan could get creamed by her favorite guard, too. “He left me at the altar.”

  Crazy, but telling Emilio her awful secret didn’t elicit an iota of shame. Maybe he already knew.

  “Stupido.
”

  “Or smart.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Smart?”

  She shrugged and began to stack the empty containers and plates. “He’s a wealthy, important man and I’m … pretty ordinary.”

  “Wealth and power don’t mean a good person. And I do not think you are ordinary, not one bit.”

  She gave him a smile. “Oh, he’s a good person. Pretty wonderful, actually.”

  “Not if he left you at the altar.” His eyes flashed and he fisted his hands.

  Touched by his fierce defense, she said, “He left me for a reason, Emilio.”

  “What was that reason?”

  “I don’t know, actually, he wouldn’t tell me. But it would have been a good one.” And now she was feeling that sad mix of emotions. Worthless, unimportant, lacking…

  Emilio distracted her. “If you chose him and you say he is all those good things, then the reason was something he couldn’t tell you.”

  “We told one another everything.” A shard of pain caught in the back of her throat.

  “That might be so, but there are times when a man cannot share. At least not right away. Maybe never.”

  She stared at the security guard. “How can that be? If not with the woman you … you love, then…”

  He shook his head. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be so pushy. My wife says I am bossy.”

  “You have a right to your opinion. I asked.”

  “I’ll clear this away, Mizz Sparrow.” He stood and tucked in the edges of the box. Then, looking everywhere but at her, he said, “Sometimes it is in the best interest of others to keep certain things to oneself. I might have withheld from my wife on occasion, as well.”

  She couldn’t process the conversation and blamed it on too much cholesterol. Gesturing at the box, she asked, “What will you do with all of this?”

  “I’ll send it back to the restaurant. The arrangements were made.”

  “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

  “Thank you for sharing your food. My Gianna has never prepared the eggs benedict.”

  Full but hardly contented, she went back upstairs, thinking hard about Emilio’s sage words. Logan had indeed withheld, but she’d attributed it to his reluctance to make it worse. So his reluctance to share was somehow related to… She didn’t have a clue what it related to.

  Okay, take the wedding out of the picture. Would he have told her in private? If he could? Maybe so. Her emotions had run rampant—she didn’t blame herself for that—and she had lashed out, pushed him away, because of the circumstances. He’d appeared honestly remorseful and his mother had cried. His father had smiled. Did they know beforehand?

  She paced to the window and stared down at the street and then up at the sky. Logan hadn’t been prepared. He was always prepared. If he’d come to the conclusion that they weren’t meant to be as a couple, it would not have been at the actual wedding ceremony. Cold feet for Logan meant days before. She thought. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe she didn’t know him the way she thought. They shared everything important with one another. She thought.

  Her head ached. What could be so awful that he couldn’t tell her and made him call off the wedding? You. Her nasty voice spoke up.

  Except it kept coming back to the timing. She dared, for the first time, to consider that he hadn’t ditched her because she wasn’t enough for him. So was it good timing for him to tell her now? What was so special about now?

  He had only taken over the company a couple of days earlier after what had to have been a pitched battle with his father. He wasn’t fighting one when they were together. He hadn’t been in contact with her all of that time after the non-wedding, at least not directly, though that would have been different had she gone home to sleep. He’d been in her house, probably at night. Oh, he’d left voice mails, sent texts, but she hadn’t read them. He asked her mother tell her to wait. Robert had asked that she wait. She wished she’d read the damn note.

  There were a lot of clues, yet she couldn’t connect the dots. Where was her vaunted intelligence? Logan had obviously waited until after the takeover to come to her directly. She couldn’t help but smirk a little at the thought of old man Doherty out in the cold. He’d been nasty to her—to most everyone—calling her a gold digger, insinuating she’d demand a part of the business. She’d appeased him, so as not to create a wider rift between him and Logan, by signing off, but he still didn’t like her. If she was married to Logan maybe she wouldn’t have seen anything of him.

  Smiles. She touched her lips, tracing the curve. Sean had smirked when she’d stalked out of the church. Not as in pleasure, but maybe satisfaction, like he’d obtained his own way? Or wasn’t that the same thing?

  “I don’t know!” she shouted, and was glad her neighbors weren’t home.

  “Okay. If I’m not deluding myself, Logan made a snap judgment in calling off the wedding. Like a fairly instantaneous one, because he’d have contacted me during the few hours we were apart before the ceremony.” While she had her hair done and a manicure and pedicure. She would have answered any call from him, right up to the minute she left her purse in the car and went into the church.

  “It’s something he learned right before, but from who?” No one answered, not even her inside voice.

  That smirk on Sean’s face kept flashing in the back of her mind, but she didn’t focus on the obvious criminal, scanning her memory banks for anyone else who might have dropped a bombshell beforehand. David had flown in the night before and after renewing their acquaintance, they enjoyed one another’s company. It was doubtful he’d have something to force Logan to jilt her.

  Patrick and his wife, Josey, were the couple they spent the most time with, and there had never been any animosity where they were concerned. The minister? A close friend of her mother’s, Father Cedric, wouldn’t have any reason to interfere.

  She wished she could ask—grabbing her phone, she dialed. Voicemail. “Robert? Please call when you get this.”

  Making the bed and straightening her room didn’t make the time go quicker. Neither did cleaning the bathroom. She could call her mother, but she’d been with Victoria at the back of the church. Her sisters and her friends might have seen something, but they’d preceded her by only moments. When her phone signaled she was on it.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Robert.”

  “I have a question.”

  “I might not be able to answer.”

  “I think you can. Remember the church?”

  “Not something I’m likely to forget.”

  She’d thought carefully about the parameters of what she wanted to ask. “Who was the last person from the congregation to speak to Logan?”

  Without hesitation, he replied, “His father. Sean was nearly late and came up to shake Logan’s hand. He spoke in his ear for a time.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Victoria?”

  “It’s on me now, Robert. And only if I can manage my inadequacies.”

  “Which are only in your mind, as powerful as that might make them, sister-in-law.”

  She snorted, an extremely unladylike sound. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such a wonderful family, which includes you—and Michael.”

  “I ask myself that often when I consider how I’ve been included in yours.”

  She wanted to weep. “Stop the sweet talk. For now. I love you, Robert, as a brother-in-law.”

  “And I, you. Victoria. Know you can trust Logan. Rely on that.”

  “I’m not promising anything.”

  “I have faith in you. And I tire of this weight I’m carrying. Your sister is like a persistent drip of water against stone with her incessant prying.”

  “Sure, make this about you and your burden of confidentiality. Paige must suspect something.”

  “She saw Logan and me together.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Indeed. But I’ll withstand it. She trusts me.”

  “Ouch. I hear you. Thanks, Robert
.”

  She knew his number but couldn’t make herself dial it. Her reasoning wasn’t faulty, she didn’t think, but why hadn’t he told her what his father said? She would have helped…

  Hand at her mouth, the only conclusion she could come to took her breath. Sean had made Logan promise not to tell her or else… She had no idea what nefarious consequences that man had threatened, but it boiled down to him. If she was even on the right path.

  Where would Logan be? She picked up her cell and began to enter his number and then canceled it. This wasn’t something she could do over the phone, and she felt him close by.

  Making her decision, she shrugged into a jacket and found a pair of shoes. Tucking her phone inside a pocket, she grabbed some cash and her keys. She wasn’t going far, merely taking a huge leap of faith.

  “You okay going out there by yourself? I’d better get you a cab.” Emilio rushed over.

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  He studied her and then nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m certain.” They had forged an interesting friendship over brunch and she hoped he would see his way clear and not make things awkward down the road. Like put up a wall between them because he was a “mere” security guard. With great insight of the human dynamic.

  Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she stood there, waiting. This wasn’t exactly the paper-bag princess style, but she wasn’t the tattered bride either. Her fingers flew to her hair. Clean, but awry. No makeup, and her clothes… With a chuckle, she let it go.

  ****

  It was fucking cold in Boston. Logan zipped his leather jacket, wished he had gloves, and figured he should pace the area around the bench. He was reluctant to go too far from it, having usurped the handy seating from a determined old man with several bags that took up the whole space. But his aching ribs and throbbing kidney area demanded a change in posture, so he pushed to his feet and carefully took a few steps.

  Watching the front door of Victoria’s apartment building wasn’t something he’d ever thought probable, but it was part of the plan. He’d just moved it several dozen blocks when she didn’t go into work. The flower delivery had gone smoothly, and he’d been on location bright and early, but no sign of her.