How to Lose a Groom in 10 Days

by Catherine Mann

  Now, she unbuckled her seatbelt so she could pull on a sweater over the clearance sale dress that had nearly sucked the life out of her back at the courthouse. The cinching bodice had eased a little once the hyperventilating stopped, but she’d also cheated and edged the zipper down a few inches to give herself some room.

  Outside her car, a man walked with a small dog on a leash. Melanie double-checked that her doors were locked even though there were others at the rest stop. She might be having a breakdown, but she had her wits about her enough to keep an eye on her surroundings. Keep herself safe.

  Or at least, she managed to protect her physical safety. She hadn’t been smart enough to protect her heart from a certain charming athlete with a killer smile. Hadn’t her mother told her she’d better be careful of the ballplayers? That had been back when she’d taken her first part time job at another spring training facility when she was just twenty years old. She hadn’t had the time or the finances to go to college with her father’s restaurant teetering on bankruptcy and her mom’s drinking escalating. So Melanie had waitressed for her dad, helped keep an eye on her mom and picked away at an online degree that—God willing—she’d finally receive at the end of this summer.

  Her father had been a promising college athlete once, so her mom understood the appeal. They were a baseball family, after all. Die-hard fans. But shoulder surgery had sidelined Melanie’s father and he’d spent years circling through farm teams without ever making a big league roster again. He’d taken it hard, but he’d recovered. Melanie’s mom, on the other hand? Still bitter.

  Was it any wonder she hadn’t told her parents about Grady? It would be a drama worthy of a Jerry Springer episode. Her cell phone dinged from a drink holder, the charger connected. She scooped it up.

  Our marriage was NOT a mistake. A second message arrived on her phone with a cheerful chime. We need 2 talk.

  Talk? She wasn’t sure she could even string together coherent thoughts much less speak.

  Hell, she wasn’t even sure where she was. She’d just driven. She looked around the rest stop outside her windshield but didn’t see any tips. Just the standard brick bathrooms. Vending machines. And picnic tables.

  Her eyes went to the GPS that Grady had bought for her twenty-sixth birthday. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was telling her about her location, but then she hadn’t read the manual. What made him think she’d ever be able to handle life as a major league player’s wife when she couldn’t even navigate her way around her home state? She’d been too busy crying her eyes out to notice the signs along the highway.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d really wanted to marry her. He had married her, for crying out loud. Who did that?

  As she felt around the console for her box of tissues, her eyes fell to the floral bouquet on the passenger seat. The whole car smelled like peonies. She dabbed her eyes and picked up her phone again.

  Don’t worry about me, she typed with shaking fingers. She needed to show Grady that he was wrong about her. About marriage. Go to Atlanta and settle in your new place.

  He’d needed a moving service to transport his things to Atlanta ahead of them. She’d been able to fit half of her stuff in the trunk and back seat of her dinky car, a sad testament to how little she owned. How vastly their lifestyles differed.

  She didn’t just have cold feet. She was frozen all the way through.

  Her phone chimed again.

  I’m not leaving town without you, his next text informed her. We chose that house together.

  Right. And since he’d been in Atlanta sending her pictures of houses as he drove around town with a realtor, he had missed the almost-panic attack she’d had then too. But back then, a whole month ago, she hadn’t even been thinking about those homes as a place for them as a couple. Marriage hadn’t even entered her head four weeks prior. She’d just been helping him choose a cool place to live because he was a hot guy and she’d been wild about him.

  Knowing that he would move on without her in a kick-butt home in Atlanta while she stayed behind in Kissimmee had hurt at the time, but at least it had seemed… imminent.

  To get married instead? Total ill-advised craziness. She’d figured it was just another fun adventure like when they danced in the rain on the ball field one night after the rest of the team went home. Or like the time she’d dared him to see how far he could launch a ball she pitched to him and he’d broken his neighbor’s window. It had just been fun. Goofy. A spring training romance with an expiration date.

  The phone was heavy in her hand as she typed.

  I chose the house for you, she reminded him in her next text.

  She’d used a lifetime of knowledge about travelling ball-players and steered him toward a place equidistant from the stadium downtown and the private airfield used by the team. The neighborhood was appropriately affluent to give him privacy but not so stuffy that he couldn’t have a big backyard barbecue with some of the rowdier teammates. It had a guest house in case his parents wanted to visit him and three garages since she’d never known a major leaguer who was content with just one vehicle.

  The next incoming message lit up. Then we’ll choose a different one together, he replied. For both of us.

  Melanie squeezed her phone so hard she accidentally shut off the screen. How could he be so freaking nice to her after she’d just ditched him at the courthouse? Clearly, he didn’t get it. Didn’t get her.

  She’d done too good of a job hiding her deepest insecurities. Her true self. Even her family. Closing her eyes, she knew she had to stop this farce of a marriage before it went any further. For his sake as much as hers.

  I can’t do this, she texted and set aside her phone.

  Enough was enough.

  Reaching for the rear view mirror, she tilted it down to look at herself. Her mascara had smeared spectacularly. A tissue wasn’t going to cut it. She dug in her glove box for a wet wipe and tried not to get the alcohol too close to her eyes.

  Owww.

  It stung anyway. Damage done, she swiped the cloth over the rest of her face, not wanting to see any remnants of the careful makeup job she’d done in her old, empty apartment that she’d kept even after she moved in with Grady last month. She’d known even then it was a temporary move. She’d told him she was spending the previous night at her parents’ place, unwilling to admit that she’d kept the old apartment and spent the night before waiting for him to call and break it off. That’s what spring training guys did. They broke it off when their real life called at the beginning of April.

  She’d woken this morning disoriented from lack of sleep, still half expecting Grady to show up at the courthouse with a perfect “last date” planned—maybe take photos in the wedding finery and ride around town with cans tied to his bumper. She sure hadn’t expected they’d really be married.

  Now, she disassembled her wedding hairstyle, pulling out pins from the “Perfect Updo” she’d copied from a magazine. It hadn’t come out the same since her dark hair only reached her chin, but it had been fun to try.

  Too bad she was done playing dress-up. In all aspects of her life.

  Damn her eyes stung.

  Knock, knock.

  The rap on her window scared a scream out of her. Wrenching her burning eyes open, she saw … Grady?

  His poster perfect face stared back at her through the windshield.

  Her heart still racing from the scare, she couldn’t process what she saw. But it was him—her too-handsome-for-his-own-good superstar ballplayer in a tuxedo custom-tailored to his absurdly athletic body. His dark hair was freshly cut, a fact she hadn’t noticed during their wedding ceremony. He must have gone to the barber yesterday. The cleft in his chin seemed deeper, his jaw set. His pickup truck was parked in front of her Honda, blocking her exit from the rest stop.

  Oh God.

  It was one thing to ignore his calls and texts. Grady Hollis was not the kind of man she could ignore in person. Just looking at him—even through eyes th
at pricked with tears of pain—made her chest hurt with wanting him.

  Swallowing hard, she blinked fast to try and clear her vision as she rolled down the window. A cool afternoon breeze blew in along with the scent of a nearby mimosa tree.

  “How did you find me?” Her voice cracked, her throat a little hoarse from the crying she’d done on the turnpike.

  He flipped the screen of his phone toward her so she could see it. A red dot blinked on a map.

  “I put the Family Finder app on your phone that night when you took mine to change my ringtone, remember? I figured the next time you got lost or needed directions, I’d be able to help you out.” He shoved the phone in his pocket.

  “Instead it led you right to me.” Not everyone was as directionally challenged as her. She’d lived in and around Kissimmee and Orlando all her life and she still got lost more than Grady.

  “Funny thing that. I wanted to be with my wife on our wedding day.” He reached through the window to brush a finger along her cheek. Tilt her chin up. “What happened to your eyes?”

  His touch made her heart skip a beat. Same as always.

  But dang inconvenient when she needed to prove to him that marriage was a mistake.

  “I used an alcohol wipe too close to my eyes.” The sting had eased but she could only imagine what a bloodshot mess she had going on. She took hold of his hand to move it carefully aside, resisting the urge to curl her fingers around his and link them. “Grady, I ran from the wedding for a reason—”

  “Can we talk about this in the car?” He looked over his shoulder toward a couple stumbling through the woods as they tried to hold on to the leashes of matching St. Bernards. “I’d rather not advertise our discussion.”

  Right. Him being famous and all that. She’d been with him more than once when a seemingly lone fan suddenly multiplied into fifty people waving ball caps, cocktail napkins and occasional exposed body parts in his face.

  “I guess,” she said begrudgingly, “but it’s important you understand that I only want to—”

  She gave up her speech since he’d already jogged around to the passenger side. She reached over to pull up the lock hoping it wasn’t a mistake to let him in. But she needed to explain to him why they were all wrong for each other. Why they shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place. And perhaps that was something a woman shouldn’t do via text.

  “Thanks.” Angling his broad shoulders inside, he lowered his unfairly scrumptious body into the seat beside her, shoving aside the peonies so they didn’t get crushed. He peered over the head rest at her clothes, blankets and personal stuff crammed in the backseat. “Not much room in here, is there?”

  His gaze darted briefly toward his roomy, late model pickup truck sitting just outside.

  She bristled. “We can’t all have million dollar contracts and the new vehicles that come with them.”

  Her Honda had gotten her through a lot of lean years. A lot of late night runs to bars around town to retrieve her mom.

  “But you can.” He scooped up her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. “I want to share everything I have with you.” He frowned down at her bare ring finger where he’d placed a beautiful diamond earlier that morning.

  Clearing her throat, she tugged her hand back.

  “No. You don’t.” She grabbed the wide collar of the gray cardigan she’d slid on over the wedding dress and hugged the cotton closer, determined to make him understand. “This speedy marriage was a mistake, Grady, and I’m going to prove it.”

  *

  Really?

  Grady stared across the console of the smallest car known to mankind and wondered what had gotten into Melanie. He knew they were right for each other. Knew it with a bone-deep certainty. Maybe his baseball career had fast-forwarded his dating life because he’d been with enough women to know beyond any doubt—quirky, free-spirited Melanie Webb was it for him.

  No more trials needed. She was The One.

  But it seemed she was ready to shake him off. Like a hitting slump. Or a losing series on the road.

  Too bad he had no intention of going anywhere.

  “I think you’ve got an indefensible position there,” he observed, wishing they were exploring positions of another kind altogether. Didn’t have to be Kama Sutra or anything crazy. Just having her in his arms was enough.

  His gaze dropped to where she clutched her sweater around her generous curves. He’d missed her in his bed last night. Had consoled himself that he’d be celebrating their marriage with her by this time today. He could tell the moment when she started feeling the vibe—maybe he’d stared a little too long. She straightened in her seat and loosened the hold on the sweater.

  “It’s very defensible.” She licked her lips, her dark brown eyes roving over his chest for just a moment before she twisted in her seat to face front. “We’re way too different. You’re going to be living on the road, seeing the country, being courted by the press, fans, potential sponsors who want you to hawk their wares—.”

  “I’ve already lived that,” he reminded her. “This isn’t my first year in the majors.”

  “But you’ve hardly reached the peak of your career. You’re just getting started. And the way you’re going, you’re only going to be more and more sought after. As for me?” She shook her head and slumped in her seat. “I’m only just getting an online degree. I have no means to support myself and—before you interrupt with generous offers of help—I wouldn’t be happy being a kept woman. I need something of my own.”

  “So we’re on different trajectories. You’ll be ready to conquer the world when I’m ready to leave baseball. It will be my turn to help you while you live your dream.”

  “You don’t get it.” She frowned, her distractingly kissable mouth forming a plump pout. “You don’t even know my dreams. How can you say if you’ll help me achieve them?”

  He needed to tread very carefully, but it was taking all his brainpower to focus on the words when what he really wanted to do was take her home and torch away all this confusion with the searing heat that blazed every time they touched.

  “Do you know your dreams, Mel?” He loved this woman like crazy. Respected the hell out of her too. She carried the weight of her whole family on her shoulders from running her dad’s restaurant more often than the man in charge, to cleaning up the daily dramas of her mother’s drinking problem.

  Of course, he only knew that in a peripheral sense from watching her in action. He’d never been invited to meet the Webbs, and maybe that in itself should have told him something. But that didn’t mean he intended to let her walk away. He would reassure her and fix whatever the hell had gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours to spook her this badly.

  “I know my dreams are very different from yours, Grady.” She stared out the windshield at a gray-haired couple taking their time exiting a sedan, moving carefully on stiff knees as they headed toward the walking path close to Melanie’s car. They leaned into one another, arms locked as if they held each other up.

  “How do you know that?” Frustration simmered. He wanted to be that old guy whose girl still stood by him even when his batting average no longer claimed space on the sports page. “Because I think our dreams are damn similar. We both want kids. We want dogs. We want a swing set and barbecues in the backyard with the neighbors.”

  He wanted the kind of life the kids around him had growing up but without all the pressure to perform the way he’d had from his sports-minded father. Melanie could give him that balance. Hell, she’d taught him it existed in the first place.

  “You can’t have a swing set when you’re on the road for two thirds of the year.” She rubbed an idle touch over the place where her wedding ring had briefly rested. “It was fine when we both lived here, but your life here during spring training is just a blip on the player radar. Everything will change when we get to Atlanta and you’re gone for two thirds of the year. I don’t want to be a part time wife.”

  “So w
e’ll make adjustments.” He was trying his best here, but none of this made sense to him.

  She bit her lip.

  “What?” he pressed. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you bring any of this up three days ago? You didn’t say anything about being a part time wife. You said yes, and made me the happiest damn man imaginable.”

  Still, she said nothing. He’d never seen her quiet for this long and it worried him.

  “Talk to me, Mel—”

  “I didn’t think you were serious about this.” Her softly spoken words chilled him.

  “About what? I forked over a ring that cost as much as my car.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think you were really serious about getting married. I thought—I don’t know. It just seemed so out of the blue.”

  “I just spoke legally binding vows.” He reeled. Had she thought marriage was a joke to him? “How much more serious could I be?”

  “We didn’t talk about the future or how it would work. You’ve never met my family—.”

  Anger simmered.

  “You didn’t want me to meet your family.” His shoulders tensed. Damn it, he knew she’d been too good to be true. “There’s a difference. I thought we didn’t talk about the future because you’re the kind of person who lives in the moment. Didn’t you tell me that’s what you liked?”

  “Yes.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, as if she could shut out the day. Him. “But there’s more to me than the girl who lives in the moment. Just because that’s what I like to do doesn’t mean I—. My life is more complicated than you know.”

  “So show me.” He spread his arms as wide as her tiny car would allow. “It’s go-time now. We’re married, Melanie, and I’m not taking back that ring.”

  “What does that mean?” She eyed him warily.

  “It means I want to understand this complicated life of yours. If we’re so different you really think we’re not meant to be together, let me see this mysterious other side of you.”