by Fiona Lowe
* * *
“G’day, gorgeous.”
A fizz of delight rushed through Amy at the sound of Ben’s voice. She glanced up from the text message she was reading on her phone. He’d just got back from the garage and he had a grease smear on his cheek, one on his long-sleeved T-shirt and his nails were rimmed with black. She put the phone down and jumped to her feet.
“I can see you had a good day,” she laughed, kissing his cheek before rubbing it with her thumb. “You’re filthy.”
He laughed and kissed her neck, working his way up toward her ear. “Come and have a shower with me.”
Tingles shimmered between her legs. For the past three days since her parents had left, she reveled in having the house and Ben to herself. They’d made love in the fall sunshine, in the spa and on his canopied bed and every day she fell in love with him just that little bit more. “I’d love to, but I just told Melissa I’d stop by her store.”
Frown lines marred his forehead. “It’s past closing.”
“I know, but she texted me wanting an opinion on a wedding gown.”
“I thought the one you made was going to be it,” he said with a trace of censure in his tone.
“It was. It is, but if she has a bride who needs an alteration, I can help with that.”
He gave her a long and penetrating look. “So no news on the job hunting?”
Excitement and sadness tangoed inside her. “Actually, I’ve just heard. I have a job interview in Chicago next week.”
“That’s great news.” He kissed her on the nose. “My arm’s almost at full strength and you’re heading back to work so it’s all good.”
Except I love you and we’re going in opposite directions. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and come meet me in Whitetail for supper.”
“I can do that.” He kissed her again. “We can celebrate your interview.”
Her heart rolled over at his support and yet it tore at the same time. She could see and hear how genuinely happy he was for her about the interview but part of her wanted to see some sign he was sad that their time together was fast coming to an end. She wanted to see some of the feelings that were churning inside of her mirrored in his eyes.
“Earth to Amy?” He laughed and waved his hand in front of her eyes. “I can see you’re already imagining yourself in the job.”
“Right,” she said faintly. Only he was wrong. She wasn’t imagining herself in the job at all and that was the problem.
* * *
When Melissa opened the door to Amy’s insistent knock, wearing a half-buttoned wedding gown, she knew she looked like the bride of Frankenstein. “Thanks for coming over so fast.”
Amy stared at her. “You have rivers of mascara running down your face. What’s happened?”
“Come in.” She stood back while Amy crossed the threshold and then locked the boutique’s door behind her before walking directly to the bridal fitting room.
“Would you like me to do up the buttons on your gown?” Amy asked with a look of unease mixed in with concern.
She nodded. “Thanks, that would be great, and then I want you to put on a dress to keep me company.”
“Sure.” Amy didn’t say anything until she’d finished doing up the long line of buttons that wound from the base of Melissa’s spine to her neck. “I think I’ll try on the ombré tulle. I love the color. It’s not ivory but it’s not quite apricot either and I could just drown in the fullness of the skirt.”
Melissa unzipped the dress bag. “Good choice. I think it will really suit you, unlike white, which is too stark for you and drains the color from your face.”
Amy stepped into the gown. “A bit like you today.”
A bit like me for days. She zipped the gown closed against Amy’s back and then picked up a bottle of champagne. With a wrench of desperation, she twisted at the cork.
“I think I better do that,” Amy said, quickly taking the bottle out of her hands. “You don’t want to risk spilling any on that amazing gown.”
She was past caring about anything but she automatically nodded her thanks. A few moments later, she accepted the proffered glass of the sparkling, straw-colored liquid and took a long gulp.
“No toast today?” Amy asked.
She shook her head. “Scott proposed.”
Amy blinked, her gray eyes round with surprise. “And I’m guessing you don’t think that’s a good thing?”
The lump that had taken up residence in her chest doubled in weight. “It’s the worst possible thing that could have happened and now he hates me.”
Amy’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So why are we wearing wedding gowns?”
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. “Because usually this cheers me up and I desperately need something to do that.”
Amy fingered the glorious tulle in the skirt of her gown and her face filled with the wonder that usually rushed Melissa. A wonder she’d been seeking for three days but it had utterly vanished.
“Is it working?” Amy asked.
“Not so much.” She drained the rest of her glass, hoping the bubbles would take the alcohol quickly into her veins to numb the pain.
Amy set down her glass. “When did he propose?”
She sighed. “A few days ago.”
“And you had no clue?”
She smiled wryly at Amy’s amazed tone. “Not even a hint. Things had been going great. We’d been having so much fun together and then he went and ruined everything by telling me he loves me,” her voice rose in a wail she couldn’t stop, “and then proposing.”
Amy got an odd look on her face—one that said a proposal was something wonderful and special and then it collided with an expression that lacked comprehension. “Exactly how is Scott telling you he loves you, ruining things?”
“Because I want to be friends and he doesn’t.” She pulled at her hair, welcoming the discomfort. “I mean, we weren’t even supposed to be friends. We agreed it was just about the sex.”
This time Amy picked up her glass and drained it with an abrupt gulp. “So what changed?”
“I don’t know.” She’d been asking herself the same question over and over. “I guess we started talking and then he asked me for help with Lily’s party. I met Lily and it just seemed so normal to be hanging out together, doing stuff. Lily’s gorgeous and Scott’s...Scott. He’s calm and steady, which should be as boring as grass growing but somehow it isn’t.”
“It all sounds...great?” Amy asked uncertainly.
“It was.” She picked at the Viennese lace of the gown thinking about the time they’d ridden the pumpkin train. “It was easy and I could be myself with him because there was no pressure.”
Two deep lines appeared at the top of Amy’s nose. “As opposed to...?”
She gave a long, shuddering sigh. “You know how stressful it is during those first few dates when you’re trying to work out if the guy is the one or just a douche bag or married even.”
“I know all about douche bags.”
Something about Amy’s tone made her look up and she caught her friend pursing her lips. “Sorry, Amy. Guys can be such pricks. If it helps any, I’ve had more than my fair share of them too, which is why I made a decision at New Year’s to be very selective about who I dated but even then, the whole scene is exhausting. With Scott, there was none of that.”
“Because you weren’t dating?”
“Exactly.”
Amy tilted her head, her curls bouncing and her gaze clear. “Remind me again why you didn’t want to date him?”
She took another sip of champagne and wondered how to explain it. “I watched my older sister get involved with a divorced guy. We were all worried about it but she was in love and convinced they could make it work. Neither of them had great jobs a
nd the child support he paid for his kids from his first marriage left him and Ellen struggling financially, not to mention the emotional tornadoes his ex-wife caused every few months. When Ellen gave up work to have their baby things went from bad to worse.
“His past got all tangled up in their present and it ended up so ugly. Now she’s raising her kid on her own and it’s hard. Really hard. My parents help out and I do too but she’s bitter and old before her time. I don’t want that sort of struggle. I want what my parents have. I want a comfortable life and Ellen’s taught me that sometimes love just isn’t enough.”
Amy sat up a bit straighter, suddenly looking very much like a lawyer. “But Scott has full custody of Lily, right?”
“He does.” She sniffed, holding back tears. “He gave up his solo music career to raise Lily when her mother walked out on them.”
Amy drummed her fingers as if it helped her think. “That means it’s unlikely he’s paying his ex-wife any alimony. You know, Melissa, he sounds like a really special guy.”
“He is,” she said softly, tears falling fast. “I know at first he seems really serious and quiet but he’s not once you get to know him. He’s got a dry sense of humor and he makes me laugh. Or he did. I keep going to tell him something funny that happened at work, or I see something I think Lily would like and I go to buy it and then I remember. It’s over.”
She gulped in a breath. “He ruined everything. I hate that I miss him so much. It’s like I’ve got this big ol’ empty hole inside of me and I hate him for putting it there.”
Amy refilled their glasses and gave her a long, thoughtful stare. “Melissa, I don’t have much experience with relationships, but I wonder if you’ve fallen in love with him.”
“No,” she said sharply as her heart rolled over and she clung desperately to everything she believed. “That isn’t possible. I know what I want in a man. I’ve known it ever since Ellen and Vince imploded and it’s been reinforced by watching my sister living with the fallout of that disastrous marriage.”
Amy’s gray eyes filled with sympathy. “I can see why you’d make a list of ideal characteristics in a man but it’s academic, not real. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this past month, it’s that life is messy and confusing.”
My life is messy. “Which is exactly why I have my list,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge. “I don’t want to start my married life with someone else’s baggage that will make everything difficult.”
“Do you mean Lily?”
Horror streaked through her. “No, I don’t mean Lily. She’s not baggage. She’s a child with a disability.”
Amy shrugged. “Some people would say that’s a huge amount of baggage. All that therapy, the fact she may need support her whole life depending on how capable she becomes. It’s pretty messy. And what about other children? Are you worried if you have a child with Scott it might be disabled?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Doesn’t everyone worry about that to a degree?” She rubbed her face with her palms, hating the whole situation. “I think he’s worried about having another special-needs child because he wouldn’t commit to having another child and that’s huge. I’m desperate to have a baby and I’m fast running out of time to have one.”
Amy nailed her with a steely look. “How many guys have you ever met that fit your criteria?”
She dropped her gaze, not wanting to answer that question.
“Melissa, I need an answer.”
Irritation flared. “Man, I forgot you were a lawyer.”
Amy gave a wry smile. “So?”
She sipped her drink, letting the bubbles float on her tongue, wishing she could avoid the stark truth, but she couldn’t. “None.”
“The problem with imaginary people is they behave exactly as we want them to.”
“There’s no harm in having standards,” she said, annoyed that Amy wasn’t siding with her and scared to death by rising panic. Had she fallen truly and deeply in love with Scott? Is this why she was more miserable than she’d ever been in her life?
Amy’s expression was neutral. “Let’s look at the facts. On one hand you have a guy who’s your friend and your lover, a guy who makes you laugh and is a giving and dedicated father—and he wants to spend his life with you. Yes, he’s a bit short on cash right now but he’s working in a family business, he’s building his music school and, who knows, he might even be able to teach in the Whitetail school district one day. Plus, he isn’t paying alimony and unlike your sister, you’ve your own business which is doing okay so financially it’s a totally different ball game. Would you agree?”
“Yes, but...”
“No buts, Melissa,” Amy said, her voice firm and brooking no arguments. She picked up the ombré tulle and let it slide through her fingers. “On the other hand you have an unknown guy who’s a bit like this dress—beautiful, worth a lot of money but untested by how it will survive what the day may throw at it. Like the permanent marker stain on Brianna’s dress, which didn’t even make it across the first hurdle. Who knows how the unknown guy will cope with what life might throw at both of you.”
There’s no such thing as perfect.
Scott’s words sounded loud and harsh in her head. She thought about Scott. He’d given up so much for Lily, including his dream job, and yet he didn’t seem bitter. He was calm and caring and had a sort of peace with his life. Something she didn’t come close to having. Did she have her priorities all tangled up? Was it wrong to want to start a relationship without the fear that the past would intrude? “It’s not that simple.”
“I know.” Amy squeezed her hand. “But life isn’t. My parents had a shotgun wedding and were married at eighteen and twenty. Statistically, it shouldn’t have worked. They made it work. Sure, we never had a lot of money but we weren’t dirt-poor either.”
For weeks she’d been the happiest she could remember and for the past few days she’d been desperately sad. Was this love? Feeling like a part of her had been ripped out of her chest.
“I always thought falling in love was supposed to be a happy time.” Tears cascaded and her chest heaved with great, hulking sobs. “Oh, Amy, I love him so much but what if he doesn’t want to have a child? I think my heart will break.”
“Go talk to him,” Amy said simply.
And that scared her to death.
Chapter Twenty
Scott’s phone buzzed with a text and his eyes shot open. The green display on his nightstand clock read 11:50. He’d been asleep for a total of twelve minutes. Great. Still, it was about eight minutes longer than he’d managed over the past few nights.
Fumbling for his glasses, he slid them up his nose and the text script came into focus. Am outside. Can we talk?
Melissa.
It had been four days since he’d slammed the door shut in her face. Four long days of deafening silence that had stretched out between them after weeks of daily talks and texts. When Margaret had left him, it had been a shock but in so many other ways it had been a relief. With Melissa, it was different. She’d pulverized his heart and he’d never felt more sad or lonely.
He hated that. He hated her for that. He was an idiot for having allowed himself to fall in love with her. He’d known what she was like from the first time he’d met her—self-absorbed and fixated on the superficial.
You wouldn’t have fallen in love with her if she was really like that.
Shut up.
He heard a soft tapping on his window and then his phone beeped again. Please, Scott.
Most of him wanted to ignore her request because he wasn’t certain there was anything left to say. She’d made herself very clear on the many and varied reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her. But the word please snagged him. The plea was out of character. Feeling that he was going to regret it, he texted,
go to front door. He swung his legs to the floor and padded out to greet her, begrudgingly acknowledging she hadn’t run the doorbell and woken up Lily.
He pulled open the door and felt his jaw drop. She stood on his mat, her face illuminated by the yellow porch light. Her normally sleek bob of hair was in disarray, mascara smudged her eyes and she looked uncharacteristically unkempt, but it was the perfectly fitted, incredibly intricate, lace wedding gown that made his breath stall in his chest. It fitted like a glove, highlighting her curves—curves he knew by heart and desperately missed.
You’re pissed as hell, remember. “Did I miss the invitation to the costume party? What are you, the bride from hell?”
“Probably.”
Her unexpected agreement took the wind out of him.
“I’m freezing,” she said, sounding more like herself. “Can we talk inside?” Clutching a fistful of papers in one hand, she lifted the skirt of the dress and the train with the other and moved forward.
He stood back, allowing her to enter and as she brushed past him, the lace of the dress ran over his bare feet. For something that looked so beautiful, it was oddly scratchy and rough. She stood in the center of the room, the material of the dress filling the small space, and she licked her lipstick-free lips as if now that she’d made it inside, she didn’t quite know where to start.
“Why are you wearing that dress?”
She dropped her gaze and then lifted it to him, embarrassment shining in her eyes. “When I have a bad day, I have a habit of trying on wedding dresses.”
He didn’t quite know what to say to that. “I guess it’s healthier than getting drunk.”
“I don’t think I can kid myself anymore that it is.” She sat down abruptly and was immediately surrounded by a sea of lace. “You see, I’m addicted to this dress.”
An aura of vulnerability circled her, calling to him and he quickly reminded himself the she’d rejected him, finding his offer of love and commitment lacking. Finding him lacking. He hardened his heart. “I’m sure there’s a twelve-step program somewhere for you, but I can’t help.”
