by Addison Fox
Her anger was justified and Roman knew it. More than justified, if he were being honest with himself, but he tried to bring the moment back around.
“Come on, don’t do this. We were having a nice time.”
A dull frisson of panic brushed the back of his neck. He knew his words were empty, just as he knew he’d unleashed something with them.
And when the dam burst, he had no one to blame but himself.
“It doesn’t go away, no matter how much you want it to. Us. All the years in between. It doesn’t just vanish.”
Each word was like an arrow, piercing through the armor he’d put up long ago when it came to Avery Marks. His own shame welled up, and with it a white-hot anger that incinerated everything in its path.
“What the hell do you want me to say, Avery? I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry for not being here. I don’t know what else to tell you. It doesn’t change how I feel for you. How I ache that you suffered while your mother was alive and when she died. It doesn’t change the fact that I have empathy for what you went through.”
“I didn’t need your fucking empathy. I needed you.”
She turned on her heel and took off, the speed she’d had in high school still in evidence as she ran toward town. Those long, coltish legs carried her farther and farther away and he stood stock-still, watching her take each and every step.
• • •
Julia and Susan looked up from the front desk of the Indigo Blue as Avery raced in through the lobby. She kept her head down as she headed toward her apartment at the back of the hotel and it didn’t take much guesswork to figure out why she was upset.
“I’d hoped giving her the morning off would have put her in a better mood.” Susan sighed as she punched some paperwork into the computer.
Julia chose her words carefully. Her daughter-in-law had a deep love for Avery, but it was that same love that had often made her blind to the girl’s pain. “She’s under a lot of pressure, Susan. Roman’s staying for a few days and it’s going to be hard on her, the way everyone scrutinizes them.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Oh no?”
“Of course not. He’s not going to play hockey forever. Maybe it’s time he’ll finally start thinking about settling down. The wedding and his visit couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. It’s the off season and he has some time on his hands to stay put in Indigo for a few weeks.”
Julia laid the stack of plastic key cards she was erasing onto the counter and turned to face Susan. “You’re not still harboring that fantasy, are you? The one where they fall into each other’s arms, decide they’re madly in love and find a way to make it all work out?”
“Why shouldn’t I? Anyone who sees them together knows what they have. What’s between them. It’s always been there.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s what either of them needs.”
“Of course it is. They both had to do some growing up but now’s the time. They’ll figure it out.”
Susan walked back to her office with a serene smile on her face and Julia abstractedly wondered how she’d misread her daughter-in-law’s behavior all these years. Yes, she knew Susan had always harbored the belief things would work out in the end, but it had always seemed somewhat sweet and nostalgic.
This near-blind belief was something else entirely.
“Everything okay?”
Julia slammed a handful of cards onto the counter, straightening their edges, and nearly fumbled the stack as those calm words pulled her from her reverie.
“Ken.” She laid the stack on the counter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“No, it’s my fault. I don’t mean to interrupt but you looked upset.”
His dark, quiet eyes were so serious, she thought as she looked at him. So trustworthy.
She’d known Ken Cloud for more than four decades, and in all that time, Julia didn’t think she’d ever heard him even raise his voice.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a busy few days here and I thought I’d give Susan a hand. I’m afraid we may have been a bit loud.”
“It was your body language that gave you away.” He smiled, understanding painting the gentle curve of his lips. “I read my paper here every morning and the energy is usually quiet and fairly benign.”
“Not this morning.”
“Exactly.”
“Care to discuss it?”
The impulse to do just that struck her at the same time a little curl of lust settled low in her belly. Both were foreign and more than a little surprising, but she’d never been a woman to waste an opportunity.
And her thoughts about Roman and Avery simply couldn’t be discussed with Sophie and Mary, no matter how much she loved her friends.
They were basking in the glow of their grandsons’ marriages—either completed or impending—and all they saw were aisles, veils and great-grandbabies in their futures. There was no way they’d understand her reservations about her own grandson and the girl she loved as a granddaughter.
“I’d like that. There’s some hot coffee down in the dining room. Would you like a cup?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Seven
Avery couldn’t keep her gaze from returning to Sloan’s left hand and the white-gold band that winked there, the metal bright and shiny. “I just can’t believe you’re married.”
“Me, either.” Sloan’s smile was broad and effervescent as she danced around the luggage and clothing scattered throughout her hotel room. “It all happened so quickly. A year ago I didn’t even know Walker, you, Mick, the grandmothers or Indigo even existed.”
Avery jumped up and hugged her, the impulse so strong she knew she couldn’t have sat still if she’d tried. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Sloan hugged her back; then Avery felt her reach for her hand as she dragged them to the one empty spot at the end of the bed. “I’m disappointed I’m going to miss the next few weeks, though. I heard Roman’s staying in Indigo. He’s never done that, has he? Since he left?”
“You’re going to Fiji. On your honeymoon, with the promise of nonstop sex. How can you want to stay here?”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
“Come on. What about Roman?”
Avery knew it was a losing battle to argue with her, so she tried to give the required information and get in and get out. “No. His visits are usually much shorter.”
“How do you feel about that?”
Avery thought about her morning with Roman and the jumbled thoughts that had haunted her ever since, and tried to fake her way through an answer. “Fine. It’s fine.”
The bright blue stare Sloan leveled on her—one that was so direct it bordered on scary—indicated her friend didn’t believe her.
Not for one single minute.
“Look. I’m not trying to be nosy or push at you around something that I know is terribly painful. But it’s like I told you back in December. You’re different people now. It would be a shame not to get to know each other as adults.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“This morning.” Before she could stop it, the story was tumbling out. She filled her in on everything. The trip to the rink. The fight. The uncontrolled anger that sprang up every time she thought about the fact Roman wasn’t there for her when her mother died.
“You have a right to be upset.”
“I know I do. But I can’t stop thinking about this thing I read, years and years ago. It’s about anger and forgiveness. And holding on to anger is like holding on to a hot coal. You’re the one who gets burned.”
“I guess.” Sloan’s blue gaze was gentle when she next spoke. “Maybe the real anger is at his limitations.”
“In what way?”
“I mean, he looks so big and strong, but his actions aren’t those of a man who doesn’t care. In fact, I’d say they’re the opposite. He cares so much it’s l
ike he fumbles over himself.”
“So I should forgive him.”
“I think you have a right to tell him how you feel and how much his actions hurt you.”
Avery knew Sloan had an incredibly valid point. She also knew it was something she needed to take the time to digest later. “Look at me, being all selfish when it’s your wedding festivus. We need to get you packed up and downstairs for the send-off picnic.”
The concern in Sloan’s eyes lingered a few moments before she let out a small sigh. “Did I really need a send-off picnic?”
“The picnic’s an excuse to eat and drink some more.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“And as for the festivus, it’s what I’ve dubbed the entire week of events your mother has been bound and determined to give you, whether you wanted any of it or not. Although, to be fair, Sophie wasn’t entirely out of the game, either.”
Sloan sighed once more before heading for one of her open suitcases. “It’s like some strange mania descended on all of them. They’re like wedding zombies.”
Avery couldn’t help but laugh at that, the crazy compulsion that had driven all of them for the last few weeks fading in the light of a well-enjoyed event. “It feels more like childbirth. Everyone’s forgotten the pain.”
Sloan lifted a summer blouse and folded it before laying it in the case. “I honestly don’t care if I ever have another discussion about cut flowers, the shade of mauve for table runners or what is an acceptable train length for a woman over thirty.”
“Amen, sister.”
Sloan chewed on her lip for a moment. “Do you think that’s why Grier wants something small? Because mine’s been such a circus?”
“I doubt it. Grier’s already given Mick a hard time because he just won’t elope.”
“Yes, but do you think it’s because of this . . . this craziness?”
Avery saw the concern and couldn’t resist teasing about their absent friend. “You’ve known her longer than me, but can you really see Grier having any part of something like the last week?”
“She’d rather be strung up by her fingernails.”
“Exactly. You, on the other hand, my dear.” Avery walked up and took Sloan’s face in her hands. “You were destined for a wedding festivus the day you came out of Winifred McKinley’s womb. Stop fighting it and let’s go down and greet your adoring public.”
She dropped a kiss on Sloan’s forehead before pointing toward the bed. “After, of course, we get you packed for your honeymoon.”
• • •
Roman popped the top on a can of Coke and tried to brush off his crappy mood. He’d been pissed off since that morning and nothing had pulled him out of it. Not his visit with a distracted Sophie, telling her what he wanted to do with the rink, nor his attempts at a nap before heading over for the wedding send-off.
At that, a question popped into his mind, and Roman turned to Walker, who was getting a lingering hug from one of Sloan’s old aunts. He at least waited until the woman was out of earshot before asking what was on his mind.
“What the fuck is a wedding send-off?”
“Something my grandmother cooked up.”
“Because the last few days haven’t been enough?”
“Neither Sloan nor I had the heart to discourage her, but it’s pretty dumb.” Walker took a drag on his beer. “But since by this time tomorrow I’ll be in Fiji, I’m trying hard not to argue with anyone.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”
They stood there in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the various partygoers in small conversation circles. Some of Sloan’s uncles had started a horseshoes game in the corner of the town square and Roman saw Tasty and Skate watching with avid interest.
“I heard you visited my grandmother.”
Roman gave a smile, his earlier visit going so smoothly he wanted to suggest there be a wedding in Indigo every weekend. “She wanted to talk to me about as much as she wanted a hole in her head, so it was a quick visit.”
“What’s up?”
“I want to fix up the rink.”
“Thank God.” Walker took another sip of his beer. “I’ve told her that place is a disaster waiting to happen. Thanks for taking it over.”
“Sure. Sure thing.”
Roman took another sip of his Coke and allowed the sweet soda to assuage the raw ire in his throat. The fact that the rink had been allowed to get that way burned in his gut, and he knew he couldn’t say anything that would contribute positively to the conversation so he kept it to himself.
Instead, he put on his brightest smile—the one he reserved for reporters—and turned toward his best friend. “Well, she thought it was a great idea. I’m going to get a group together and we’ll get it fixed up next weekend.”
“Sorry to miss it.”
Roman slapped his friend on the back, unable to maintain his shitty mood in the face of such happiness. “I know, I know, Counselor. You’ll be in Fiji.”
“You bet I will. With my blushing bride in a string bikini.”
“Rough life.”
“I consider it my reward for putting up with this circus”—Walker gestured to the field before them—“for the last six months. And I believe my bride feels the same way.”
“It’s been a rough go?”
“I just wanted to marry her, you know? All this. It’s nice but it’s not the marriage. It’s just a wedding.”
“Interesting point.”
“They think men don’t pay attention. My grandmother and mother-in-law, in particular. But I do. I’ve watched Sloan go from happy, engaged bride-to-be to frantic sobs when her mother did something that upset her. She’s earned two weeks in Fiji as much as I have.”
“Well, I wish you a ton of honeymoon sex and the time to relax from the madness.”
Walker hesitated, and Roman felt what was coming next before his oldest friend even spoke. “So what about Avery?”
“What about Avery?”
As the words left his mouth, Roman saw her walk into the square next to Sloan. She had on a vividly colored dress that had bold slashes of red, blue and violet streaked through it. The sleeveless swatch of color fell to the knee and only served to highlight her long, lightly tanned legs and toned arms.
“We all see it. And that’s not just the crazy love for my wife talking.”
Roman deliberately pulled his gaze from Avery and turned to his friend. “Keep your crazy love talk to yourself.”
“You two looked like you were having a nice time at the wedding.”
“That’s because we know how to be civil to each other. How to have a nice time with each other. We were friends for a long time, Walker.”
“Until you weren’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What I said. You were friends until you weren’t.”
“We’ve always been friends.”
“You know what? It’s a happy day, and I’m really not trying to fuck it up being an asshole, so I’m going to leave it alone and go say hello to my bride.”
“You do that.”
Roman didn’t want to think about it—or Walker’s underlying point—so he headed for the horseshoe match in progress. Maybe a change of scenery with people he didn’t know would provide a nice diversion.
If nothing else, throwing something might calm his raging nerves.
• • •
Avery wasn’t sure how Sloan had talked her into the dress, but now that she had it on and was in public, she practically felt naked. She never wore stuff like this.
And why in God’s name had she accepted one of the outfits Sloan had bought for her honeymoon?
Sloan’s argument—that she’d bought far too much and Avery would look great in it—had sounded inspired at the time.
Now she just felt like she was trying too hard.
And the small wink Sloan shot her before she headed toward her sm
iling new husband confirmed it.
Before she could dwell on it too long, Walker’s law partner, Jessica McFarland, was at her side, two fresh beers in hand. “Care for one?”
“God, yes. How’d you know?”
“You had that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that screams ‘I’m naked in public and I just want to wake up from the nightmare.’”
Avery turned toward her friend, horror slowly spreading through her body and coalescing into a greasy knot of nausea in her stomach. “Oh God. I knew it. This dress looks awful.”
“The dress looks fabulous. No one can stop looking at you, including our dearly beloved bartender.” Jess inclined her head in Ronnie’s direction, where he stood with a small cluster of the guys he hung around with.
“You really do need to do something about that,” Jess said with a bright smile. “He’s too prime to leave him wallowing in misery every time you’re near.”
“How many different ways do I have to make it clear I’m not doing anything with Ronnie?”
“It doesn’t mean it’s not a shame. He’s adorable.”
Avery didn’t even turn around, knowing what she’d get if she did. Ronnie hadn’t been too overt in his interest, but she knew it was there all the same, and she didn’t want to embarrass or encourage him. She’d thought her four months away in Ireland would have helped the situation, but days like today made it clear her absence had only made him grow fonder of her.
And he was adorable. If she were looking for minimal strings and a good time, Ronnie would be at the top of her list, their age difference—and her junior high baby-sitting sessions for him—be damned.
But she wasn’t looking for casual.
And despite her best intentions, she had a fascination of her own for someone else who was entirely inappropriate for her.
“Someone’s looking sexy today.”
Avery shot Jess a desperate look before she turned toward the older woman who owned the cackling voice. “Chooch. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sophie and those McKinleys sure as hell know how to throw a party.” Chooch nodded her head, the ringlets she’d managed to curl over her entire head winking in the breeze. “You need to show those legs off more often. You’re smoking.”
