“Hey, Deacon? You ready to go?”
Dahlia had an army of family members in town for the wedding, so Deacon’s place had been converted into a guesthouse, and he’d been crashing with Emmett. Better that than moving in with Mom and Dad.
“Almost,” he called back. “I think I lost a cuff link.”
Emmett crossed his apartment to the spare bedroom, immediately spotting the cuff link under the bench at the foot of the bed. He reached down and picked it up, handing it to his older brother. “Looking good, man.”
Deacon took a deep breath. “Thanks.”
“You ready for this?”
He nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Hey, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to drop you off,” Emmett said. “I’ll be back in time for the ceremony, but there’s something I have to take care of first.”
Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “Something Janie related?”
Emmett glanced at the floor then looked up, meeting his brothers gaze head on. “I gotta get her back, Deac.”
Deacon squeezed his arm. “Fight for what you love?”
Emmett nodded. “Yeah.”
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up outside Janie’s condo. He reached into the pocket of his coat, making sure the note was still there, then climbed out of his truck and hurried up her front steps. He rang the doorbell, hoping against hope that Janie was home.
It was Mallory who opened the door. He’d worried, at first, that he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart, but now that he really knew Janie, it was easy. Janie had more freckles and her eyebrows arched a little higher. Plus, most of the time, she wore her hair wavy instead of straight like Mallory always did. “Hey, Mallory,” Emmett said. “Is Janie home?”
Mallory folded her arms across her chest. “Didn’t she just ask you, like three days ago, to give her some time?”
Emmett’s jaw tightened. “Please? I need to talk to her.”
“It’s okay, Mal,” Janie said, melting out of the shadowy interior. She looked at Emmett. “Come on in.”
He followed her to the living room.
“I’ll just be in my room,” Mallory said.
“Actually.” Emmett stopped her. “Can you stay? I’d like you to hear this too.”
Twin sisters as close as these two? If he was going to convince one to love him, he might as well convince the other to approve.
Mallory turned and moved next to her sister. They stood side by side and made no move to sit down, so Emmett didn’t either. He took a deep breath, then pulled the note out of his pocket. He crossed the room, unfolded it and placed it on the coffee table in front of Janie.
“The day you gave me this note was the same day my father told me I would never go to Nashville. Law school, or I was cut off. No more money. No more support. I was bitter and I was angry when I went to that party. It doesn’t justify my making fun of what you wrote. But it wasn’t how I really felt.”
“You saved it?” Janie asked, her voice soft.
“If you knew how many times I’ve read it, wondering who it was that understood me as well as you did . . .” He went to run a hand through his hair, then stopped himself, remembering the wedding. He could already hear Mrs. Ravenel scolding his slovenly appearance. “You think nobody saw you in high school? Nobody noticed you? You’re wrong. I did. You were this beautiful untouchable mystery that I couldn’t begin to understand, but I saw you.” He stifled a laugh. “That time I saw you play, I just . . . Janie, you were so much more talented and mature than the rest of us. Had I known it was you that had written that note? I’d have crawled naked through a hurricane to find you.”
Janie closed her eyes.
Emmett took a step forward and lifted his hand, his fingers curling softly around her cheek. “Just because you felt something in high school doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.” He leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss on her forehead. “Please change your mind,” he whispered. “We can slow things down, make cello practice a regular part of date night, do whatever it takes. But I barely lasted three days without you, Janie. Don’t make me go another.”
Emmett caught sight of the clock hanging on the far wall. Stupid wedding. “I’ve got to go.” He reached out and squeezed Janie’s hand. “Just think about it, okay?”
She only nodded.
Emmett left her standing there, his heart in her hands.
Chapter Nine
“Daaaaang, that man knows how to wear a suit,” Mallory said.
Janie almost laughed, but her emotions were running too high. She picked up the note, her hands trembling, and took it to the couch. She read through the first few lines and heat flooded her cheeks. High school Janie hadn’t held anything back.
“I can’t believe I ever gave this to him,” she said.
Mallory scoffed. “Uh, obviously it did the trick.”
Janie looked up. “He did look good, didn’t he?”
Mallory sat down beside her sister and took both her hands. “Janie, I’ve had terrible luck with guys—mostly because I suck at picking good ones—so you don’t have to take my advice if you don’t want to. And I know I said I wasn’t so sure about Emmett before. But I was wrong. That man is the real deal, and I’m pretty sure he’s already in love with you.”
Janie sniffed, tears brimming. “What do I do?”
“You get dressed and you go to the wedding.”
Janie shook her head. “It’s too late. Leslie is probably already there warming up. I can’t take the gig back now.”
“So go as a guest. Be the best man’s date.”
“I’m sure his parents would love that,” Janie said, but she was already mentally digging through her closet, wondering what she could wear.
As always, Mallory was five steps ahead. “You need to wear the purple dress I wore when I met Preston’s parents.”
“Seriously?” Janie asked. “You love that dress.”
“I did love that dress until Preston said he loved it too. Wear it. Look fantastic in it so I can have a reason to like it again.”
Janie hurried out of her clothes and shimmied into the dress. The cut was perfect—cinching in her waist in just the right way and accentuating her curves. She turned to her sister. “What do you think?”
Mallory pursed her lips. “Okay, I love the dress again, but maybe I hate you for looking so good in it.”
Janie grinned and hugged her sister. “Help me with my hair?”
The William-Aiken House sat right in the hustle and bustle of King Street in downtown Charleston. It had been there for 200 years, so Janie imagined it wasn’t quite so hustling and bustling when the house was built, but it still managed to feel magical and secluded with its elaborate gardens and high walls. She approached the gate, discouraged to find an employee of the venue checking a guest list as people arrived. So maybe she wouldn’t be crashing the wedding.
She glanced at her phone. There was still twenty minutes before everything started. Hesitating only a moment, she called Emmett.
He answered right away. “Hey.”
“Hi,” Janie said, happy to hear the hope ringing in his voice. “What are you up to?” It was a dumb question. He was at the wedding. How did she think he was going to respond?
“Um, getting ready to walk down the aisle,” he said.
“Right. About that. Do you have a second to come out to the front gate?”
“What? What gate?”
“The gate where guests are being checked in? Cause, you know, I’m not officially on the invitation list, so . . . I don’t think they’re going to let me in.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Janie hung up her phone and dropped it into her purse. She smoothed the front of her dress and tried to calm her nerves with some slow, intentional breathing. It was working, much to her relief, and she closed her eyes for one final breath.
“Should I come back later?” Emmett asked, his voice close to her ear.
Her eyes shot open and she stepped ba
ck, teetering on her heels.
Emmett reached out and grabbed her arm, steading her. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She smiled, suddenly feeling shy. She’d just seen him barely an hour before, but somehow everything felt different now. “Um, I have to tell you something important. But first, I brought you something.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Before she could answer, a downtown walking tour stopped behind them on the sidewalk, the guide launching into a history of the William-Aiken House and the role it played in Charleston’s history.
Emmett tilted his head toward the house. “Come on. We’ll find a place to talk inside.”
They ended up in a side garden, to the left of where guests were gathering for the ceremony. They sat on a small metal bench, a hedge giving them a tiny bit of privacy.
“You brought me something?” Emmett said, picking up their conversation where they’d left off out on the street.
“Yes.” Janie picked up the Trader Joes grocery bag she’d been carrying and handed it to Emmett. Crappy as far as gift bags go, but she’d had less than an hour to prep herself for a formal party. Sometimes functionality had to win over fancy.
He opened the bag and pulled out a dark brown cowboy hat, a tiny stripe of tan, leather piping around the middle. “That’s . . . nice,” he said with a smile. His effort at kindness made Janie want to laugh. For all his country music singing, he’d never worn a cowboy hat. She’d teased him about it more than once. He’d always insisted he wouldn’t dress the part until he had a real reason to. He put the hat on. “What do you think?”
“It looks perfect,” Janie said. “I figured since a producer from Green Valley Records has your demo and has promised to give it careful consideration, you deserved a little something to celebrate.”
Emmett froze. “You’re kidding.”
Janie grinned. “I’m not. My professor emailed me yesterday. The producer is a former colleague of his, and said she was happy to give it a listen.”
Emmett shook his head. “So wait. She has the demo already? An actual producer. In Nashville.”
Janie nodded. “My professor copied me on the email he sent. So yes. I can absolutely verify your demo is in her inbox.”
“That’s amazing,” Emmett said. “You’re amazing. Thank you for doing that for me.” He moved like he was reaching for her hand but pulled back, hesitation on his face.
Janie held out her palm and gave him an encouraging smile. “Okay. That was the first thing.”
Emmett took off the hat and looked at Janie, his eyes holding hers. “What’s the second?”
She leaned forward and answered his question with a kiss—long and deep and satisfying. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out,” she said softly, her face still close to his. “I just got scared. But the thought of being without you is way worse.”
“This is real, Janie.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He kissed her again, his hands sliding up her arms to her face. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you?”
“Well I mean, I beat you to it by about eight years,” Janie said with a smirk. “I actually think you’re running a little behind schedule.”
Emmett’s phone buzzed from his pocket. “That’s probably my curtain call,” he said, without pulling out the phone. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll happily stick around if it means getting to stare at you in that suit for an hour, but you’ll have to sneak me in. I gave up my spot behind my cello.”
“Are you willing to sit with my Uncle Chester? He might try and hold your hand. And will definitely smell like very expensive bourbon. And cigars.”
“Hmm, that’s a deal breaker,” Janie said. She pulled her hand away and turned to head the opposite direction.
Emmett caught her hand and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re funny.” He leaned down and kissed her again.
She smiled against his lips. “You’re going to miss your brother’s wedding.”
“Deacon will forgive me,” Emmett said.
“Will his soon-to-be wife?”
Emmett shrugged casually. “Meh. I never liked her anyway.”
Janie smacked his arm. “That is a terrible thing to say!”
Emmett led her to a chair about half way up his family’s side of the gathering. He smiled as the photographer snapped a shot of them, knowing he’d probably never looked happier. “Will Leslie let you borrow her cello?” he asked. “Cause I really want you to play my song with me.”
Janie put a hand over her chest. “I’d love to. I’m sure Leslie won’t mind.”
“And promise you’ll dance with me tonight?” Emmett asked.
“Only with you and Uncle Chester,” Janie said.
Emmett grinned and glanced at his watch. “Let me go see why this thing hasn’t started yet.” He kissed Janie briefly then set his new hat on top of her head. “Keep this for me?”
“For you?” Janie smiled. “Always.”
Part 3: Lily and Deacon
BY BECCA WILHITE
Chapter One
Lily’s feet automatically stepped in time to the music after all that rehearsing, or maybe it was in time to her heartbeat. She could hear the room turn to look at her as she came down the aisle, that rustle of suits and dresses, but she couldn’t look at any of those people. She focused only on Deacon.
His nervousness manifested in extra-straight posture, and he seemed even taller than usual. She knew him well enough to know that this particular smile wasn’t his relaxed grin but his anxious mask. The fashionable suit was a tiny bit too stylish for him to look comfortable, but the pictures were going to be gorgeous.
What was she doing, thinking about photos? No one was going to want photos of this disaster.
Walking to the front of the room took about eleven years, but when she made it, she stopped in front of him. As he looked down at her and smiled, all nerves and anticipation, she put her hand on his arm and leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“Dahlia asked me to tell you something,” she said. And then her words dried up.
How exactly had she arrived here?
And what exactly did Dahlia think she was doing?
After what felt like eternities but was probably no more than a minute, she pulled her eyes from the gorgeous orchid pinned to Deacon’s tuxedo and looked into his face. His expression was filled with concern. Did he know? Could he guess?
Anyone could guess, Lily thought. This leap off the traditional track was perfectly in line with all things Dahlia. Expect the unexpected and all that.
The sound in the room changed: the whisper that had become a buzz was turning to a mutter. She realized she still had her hand on Deacon’s arm and dropped it down to her side.
What were her lines? Only minutes ago, Dahlia had stood with her in the bride’s room, holding so still, her nose practically touching Lily’s, and listened to Lily repeat the words.
“Dahlia sends her regrets, but she needs to follow her heart, and if you look around,” Lily winced and her voice went softer, “you’ll see that among all the flowers in this beautiful venue, you can’t find a single Dahlia.” The rehearsed statement came out of her mouth without any of Dahlia’s spontaneity, sounding not only stiff and formal, but cruel. Shaking her head, Lily tried again, her own words this time. “I’m sorry, Deacon. Dahlia’s gone.”
She watched him take in her words, a little line forming between his eyebrows. His mouth opened and then closed again. Of the million things he could be thinking, she wished she could guess the one his mind was trying to land on.
His eyes darted around the room and finally he spoke. “She left? The wedding? Her wedding? Our wedding?”
That burn in the back of her throat meant Lily was about to cry or throw up, and she very much wanted to do neither. She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, but she wasn’t sure she’d made enough sound to be heard.
&n
bsp; Breathe, she told herself. Just for a second.
Was that a gulp? A sob? Oh, no. Was Deacon crying? Here? In front of everyone? When she dragged her eyes up to meet his, she was relieved to see that in fact, he was trying to stifle a laugh.
“Lil,” he said, and gave a tiny shake of his head. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t ready to laugh.
“Looks like it.” The heat searing her neck suggested that at least her reflexive body functions were still happening. Blushing was the most normal thing right now. “Is everyone staring at us?”
His eyes swept the room again. “Exactly everyone. Yes.” Another breath of a laugh escaped him, but this one sounded tired. “Jilted? Is that the word for what just happened to me?”
“That is precisely the word.” Lily wasn’t sure how he could stand there and chat with her about semantics while his wedding was falling apart, but a huge part of her appreciated it. Being the messenger was the worst. The absolute worst. Well. After being the jilted. And somehow his question made the moment seem completely normal.
“I probably need to say something to everyone.” He looked at her, question on his face. “Right?”
She understood all too well, from years of friendship, what his subtext was asking. “Right. Yes. You. You need to talk. Not me.”
He nudged her. “I know. I was teasing. Okay, well, wish me luck.”
She didn’t have time to say another word. He moved around her and stood at the front of the aisle and smiled at the crowd. The whispering hushed when he waved. It wasn’t so much a “command the room” wave as a simple “hello, there” kind of thing. A little girl a few rows from the front waved back.
“Friends,” Deacon said, then cleared his throat and said it again. “Friends, I thank you for coming today. It looks like we have a slight change of plans for the main event.”
Wedding Belles: A Novel in Four Parts Page 13
