My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding

by T. Sue VerSteeg

  Keeping him from a contribution to the swear jar, she interjected, "Evidently, his boss's daughter would."

  Laughter erupted from both of her parents and filled the garden. Even Bill and Helen from next door wandered out onto their back deck and peered over the fence.

  Her dad waved them off. "He actually had enough nerve to call and ask you to photograph his wedding? Wait!" Throwing his hands in the air, he flailed them wildly to keep her from answering his first question. "You said you set up an appointment earlier, so that means you accepted the offer. So the million dollar question is, are you out of your effing mind?"

  "It's complicated," she huffed. "And, a long story."

  Her father crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm a smart man and have plenty of time."

  "Okay, sit down, and let me explain."

  He hung on every word while Jemma told of Dalton's head games and how she couldn't walk away from it without a fight—and how she was also conflicted on exactly how to fight the battle. Understanding set his jaw again, and the vein at his temple bulged and pulsed. Jemma reached across the green metal patio table and squeezed his hand in an attempt to calm him. Her mother walked up behind and massaged his shoulders.

  "Is it too late to cancel?" her mother offered.

  Jemma told them how much the job was paying. They whistled in unison. "And, I might have already gotten a new camera and printer on credit for about the same amount." She winced, expecting them to bring up the money she owed them. Nothing was said. Though, her mother did get in her normal deep sigh and knowing look.

  She offered advice to Jemma first. "Well, honey, you need to take the high road. Be the better person and show him that you're over him. He set the bar, and you can hurdle it with no problem."

  Her father's opinion differed drastically. "There's nothing wrong if you choose to limbo that sucker. I say that you wait until the preacher says the line about anyone knowing any reason why those two shouldn't be joined in holy matrimony and then you stand up and give them a list in alphabetical order."

  Jemma shook her head and waved a hand in resignation.

  Her mother leaned over, wrapped her arms around her husband, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Our daughter has grown into a lovely, mature woman and will handle this with all the grace and dignity…"

  As though on cue, Mikey burst through the back door. The metal frame slammed against the side of the house as he belched from the bottom of his gut.

  She concluded, "…that your son lacks."

  "What?" Mikey said. "Why do you always have to go dissin' me?" He stood with hands stretched wide, shoulders scrunched, and his face contorted in a look of utter disgust.

  "Would you like to go to lunch with us?"

  Mom's invitation instantly morphed the harsh scowl on his face to a bright smile. "Oh, yeah!"

  She winked at Jemma across the table, and they shared a knowing look, understanding that the one, surefire way to soothe the male savage beasts in their family was through their stomachs.

  Falling right into step with his son, Michael stood and patted his rounded belly. "I'm starved, ladies. Let's get this show on the road."

  He wrestled Mikey into a headlock, and they walked through the house toward the front door. Mom followed behind and played damage control. A vase toppled when they bumped against the fireplace mantle, and she caught it; picked a cushion from the floor that they knocked off of the couch and replaced it, grabbed magazines that scattered from the coffee table as they fought and played on their way out of the door. Her work was never done when those two were together.

  Jemma did her best to catch what her mother missed. The guys had wrestled and played since Mikey was old enough to hold his own. She and her mother had been cleaning up their messes ever since.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Though only the first weekend in May, Springfield, Missouri already felt like the tropics. Humidity levels as high as the temps made eighty degrees feel like a sauna. Sweat trickled down Jemma's neck in the short time it took to walk from her car to the door of the Lighthouse Café on Walnut Street. She swiped her damp bangs from her eyes and scanned the crowd for a woman fitting Kate McCallister's description.

  She didn't have to search long.

  A stunning, lithe woman with long, silky chestnut locks stood and waved for her from a booth near the counter. An off-white, sleeveless designer dress hugged Kate's perfect form. A surge of insecurity filled Jemma, her choice of denim crop pants, baby doll tank and flip-flops seeming a little too casual for their agreed upon weekend casual dress. Forcing a smile into place, she walked toward the beautiful woman.

  "Jemma, I recognized you from your website. This is my cousin, Anthony Giovanni." Kate's voice filtered through her anxiety filled plan to go home and change.

  Another bout of insecurity slammed into her as he stood to shake Jemma's hand. Dressed in a pair of dark blue dress pants, white shirt, and a loosened sky blue tie so his top two buttons could be undone, the man could've walked right off of the cover of GQ magazine. The shirt was a stark comparison to his tanned complexion and accentuated his jet-black hair. Drawn into the depths of his midnight blue eyes, Jemma forgot to speak. She normally didn't make a habit of acting like a teenaged groupie. Obviously, her brain had disengaged somewhere between his tie and his eyes.

  She broke away from his bemused gaze and turned to the super pressing task at hand of making sure her toes were clean. When she finally regained enough confidence to look back toward him, he gave her a sly smile and a quick wink, which set her at ease somewhat. It didn't stop her cheeks from warming, even warmer still as she realized she was still holding his hand. Abruptly yanking hers away, she blurted, "Jemma Keith, wedding photographer."

  "Well, Jemma Keith, wedding photographer, please call me Tony. I hope you don't mind that I crashed my cousin's meeting with you. There was a last minute baby shower for a family member we both had to attend, so I tagged along afterward. She also promised me free coffee." Flashing his brilliant smile again, this time toward his cousin, he gestured for her to take the seat next to him. The fresh scent of his cologne muddled her brain further as she slid into the booth.

  Setting her portfolio on the table, Jemma made a valiant effort to keep her hands from trembling. Having Tony so close, his leg brushing hers, brought about thoughts more suited to wedding nights. Sex had barely entered her mind over the past six months; she'd concentrated solely on her career, forced herself to work at the bank, and even lost contact with most of her friends.

  But, with a simple touch, steamy thoughts crowded inside her head, threatening to spill out onto the table.

  Looking past Kate at the customer counter, Jemma pictured Tony clearing the biscotti containers with one sweep of his arm, his hands sliding to her hips, then her waist, lifting her onto the cool surface. Heat again flushed her face, this time engulfing other more southern regions of her anatomy as well. In a mindless move, she picked one of the photos from her portfolio and fanned herself with it. "It's hot in here." Sweat trailed down her cheeks from her temples, and she looked from Kate to Tony. A knowing smile creased one corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin. Embarrassment snapped Jemma back to reality, and she turned and stared wide-eyed, across the table at Kate. "I don't know what's come over me. I guess this weather has done me in."

  Liar. Focus, Jemma!

  Kate glanced back and forth between Jemma and Tony. "So, what have you planned for my wedding, Jemma?"

  Switching seamlessly into professional mode—at least on the outside—she pushed away naked images of the man next to her and told Kate of her strategy for her big day. She'd photographed weddings at the church they would be using, so Jemma showed Kate poses and gave her ideas of what she could expect from her photography style. Jemma watched Dalton's bride-to-be flip through the pages of the portfolio she'd made up for her. She seemed so genuine and real, so innocent and young.

  Before she had the chance to run her words through common sense, Jemma blur
ted, "How old are you?" She could almost feel her good side slap the naughty one across the face.

  Kate's brow knit with confusion.

  Jemma waved her hands between them as though she could brush her words away. "I, uh, meant to ask how long you and Dalton have known each other."

  Color tinged Kate's cheeks, rendering the dark haired model-esque woman even more beautiful.

  "That's okay. I don't mind answering both questions. I'm going to be twenty in August."

  With great restraint, Jemma kept the shock from her face. Years had passed since she'd stopped rounding her age up. Sometime in Junior High School, if memory served her. The fact that Dalton would be thirty within a few weeks probably had something to do with it.

  As far as Jemma was concerned, ten years didn't make a difference in a relationship when love was involved. Though, the love part was iffy at best from her knowledge of the intended groom.

  Glancing back toward the hunk of a man sitting next to her, sexual energy pulsed back through her body. It was as though it'd merely been waiting for her to acknowledge its presence again, or the hunky man. Tony folded his muscular arms and made an obvious, concentrated effort to look anywhere but at Kate. Something akin to disproval pursed his lips and set his jaw.

  Kate finished, "And Dalton and I have been dating off-and-on for over a year."

  Jemma gasped. She found it impossible to hide her shock; her mouth flew open, and her eyes widened in disbelief. "Did you say 'over a year'?"

  "Yes." Confusion crinkled Kate's perfect nose, replacing the look of embarrassment.

  Anger brewed in Jemma's gut, and she fought to regain her composure. By her calculations, Dalton had been dating Kate, as well as Stacy, while they had been living together.

  How in the hell did the bastard pull that off? And most importantly, how did I not suspect a thing? New camera and printer, new camera and printer…

  Kate broke into her mental rant with an answer. "I was away at college most of last year, but he visited me often."

  Business trips, my ass!

  Once again, oral diarrhea reared its ugly head. "So, why not finish college before you get married? True love can wait, right?" The inquisition thankfully came out sounding somewhat sweet.

  "They decided to start a family instead." Tony's words splashed into the conversation like a glass of iced water on an unsuspecting sunbather. Both girls gasped simultaneously, turning toward Tony. Kate was, no doubt, shocked that he'd divulged her secret to someone they'd just met, while Jemma was being silently pummeled by her ex's indiscretions.

  Jemma inhaled a deep breath and focused on the situation before she lost the account or her sanity. Or both. "I'm sorry. I've overstepped my boundaries as a photographer. This kind of thing is atypical for me. I'm normally a very professional individual where my work is involved. Please don't discredit me for my momentary loss of social skills."

  Kate ran her finger over a picture of a beaming bride and groom. "You're very talented, just like Dalton said. And from what I can tell, you're a good person, too. I'd be delighted to have you photograph my wedding."

  Tony made circles with the bottom of his foam coffee cup in some stray sugar granules, staring intently at the figure eight he'd created. Without looking up from his masterpiece, he offered his apology. "I'm sorry for airing your dirty laundry, Kate. You know Dalton and I don't see eye-to-eye on much, and your pregnancy was just the icing on the cake."

  "I know." Kate reached across the table and grabbed Tony's free hand, her tiny fingers disappearing within his grasp. "But this baby deserves a family—a whole family. I have to try to give him, or her, a loving home. Dalton has been less than a saint. You know that, I know that, Daddy knows that, the whole world undoubtedly knows that, but he says Stacy is out of the picture now and has been for some time. I have to believe him. There's more than my life riding on it."

  Jemma's heart sank. She made a desperate attempt to busy herself by putting her portfolio back together, unable to keep from watching them out of the corner of her eye. A single tear slid down Kate's cheek.

  Tony's shoulders slumped in resignation. "I know, Kate. That's the only reason he's still breathing at the moment."

  Jemma fought back a giggle. Dad and Mikey would love this guy! Talk about an emotional roller coaster.

  "Besides, if you weren't still marrying Dalton, I wouldn't have an excuse to see this beautiful lady again." Tony turned his attention to Jemma and stood while she scooted from the booth.

  Jemma offered him an awkward grin, stood, and turned to shake hands with Kate. "I'll see you in about three weeks. Thank you for allowing me to capture your day for you." Turning back to Tony, she raised an eyebrow suggestively and from somewhere deep in her psyche found the bravery to say, "It really is a shame that you don't know how to ask a girl out on a date."

  Leaving Tony standing, wide eyed, shaking his head, Jemma sashayed out of the door. The entire time she prayed she didn't trip over her own feet or slam into the clear door, thinking it was open.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tony crawled onto the foot of her bed and slid his half-naked body in a languid trail up Jemma's prone form. His lips teased the tender flesh at the crook of her neck, forcing her head back onto the downy softness of her pillow. A gasp of approval escaped her lips as his tongue traced a line up her neck, to her earlobe, and across her chin. Their gazes locked, and his eyes glinted with fire. He captured her mouth in a heated kiss; their tongues intertwined and mingled. The flames inside Jemma climbed to a fevered pitch.

  The friction she and Tony made together steamed the windows of her tiny apartment. Moisture trickled down her spine, and he pulled her into a sitting position, moving her to straddle his lap. The silky material of her nightgown clung to her body, hugging her curves.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but an annoying, high-pitched buzz came out instead. She cleared her throat; the noise wouldn't stop. Slowly, her foggy mind cleared. She woke to the sun glittering through the window.

  Slamming her hand onto the snooze button of her alarm clock, she glared at the bright red numbers on the display and shoved it onto the floor. "Why didn't you just dump some water on me?" she blurted and stared at the clock as though it would answer her. She assessed her soggy bedding situation and realized it seemed like someone already had.

  Flinging the top sheet off, she jumped out of bed to check the thermostat again. The same thing had happened the previous night and, just like the morning prior, the temperature sat at sixty-eight degrees. The cool floor quickly chilled her bare feet, so the cooling system wasn't the issue.

  Tony was.

  Is it bad business etiquette to call Kate and get Tony's phone number?

  "Focus, Jemma! Tony is just another guy," she barked at herself as she stripped her bed, yet again, and gathered up laundry to take to her parents' house. She'd recently been there to wash her sheets, but hoped they wouldn't notice the fact that she was doing the same set again today. She made a mental note to budget for extra bedding.

  After a much needed cold shower, Jemma threw on some khaki shorts, an old Mizzou T-shirt, and tennis shoes. As she wound her hair around in a knot and cinched it with a clip, her phone started chirping. Not recognizing the number, she answered in a business-like manner.

  "Always the Photographer, Never the Bride. This is Jemma. How can I help you?"

  "Hi, Jemma Keith, Wedding Photographer. This is Tony Giovanni."

  It had been two days since they'd met, not to mention two very interesting nights of him rolling around on her bed doing things she'd never consider uttering in the presence of anyone who even knew her mother. She wiped moisture from her forehead as her dreams performed an encore. Picking up a piece of junk mail from the counter, she erratically fanned herself.

  "Oh, Kate's cousin. From the coffeehouse, right?" If not for the high-pitched crackle at the end, she may have pulled off the whole 'aloof' vibe she was attempting.

  "Yes, that's me. I'm taking your advic
e."

  "I gave you advice?" She wanted to say more, but feared the dreaded crackle.

  "You said it was a shame I didn't know how to ask a girl out on a date. It wasn't really advice, more like a challenge."

  "So, you're challenging me to a date?" A girly-girl giggle from somewhere in the dark chasm of her early teens escaped her lips. She raised an eyebrow and looked around the room, as though it came from someone else.

  "Yeah, I guess I am," he said. His laugh was contagious, and it felt good to join him.

  "So, what did you have in mind for this date-challenge?" Jemma pressed.

  "Are you free this weekend? I have tickets to a college baseball game, or we can go watch the outside movie downtown. Whichever sounds more like first-date-challenge material to you is fine with me."

  "Aren't they playing Casablanca this weekend?" Genuine excitement charged her words.

  "Hmm, sounds like we share a love for old movies. This might not be such a challenge after all. Okay, Friday night, seven o'clock dinner at Zio's and then off to the movie downtown. How does that sound?"

  "Like the perfect date."

  "I'll pick you up at six-thirty, then. Is your address the same as your business card?"

  "Ah, Kate is sharing inside information with you, eh?"

  "How did you think I got your phone number?"

  "Hmm, good question. Yes, it is the same. I'll see you then."

  "Until then." His voice was smooth, sultry and seductive.

  Jemma gently hung up, afraid any sudden movements or sounds might burst the serene, golden bubble. She struggled to remember a time she'd ever felt quite like she did at that moment. No guy ever made her giddy; no boy ever made her girly-giggle; no man ever made her swoon. Tony managed all three with one phone call.

  Then there was also the whole ordeal with her sheets.

  Collapsing onto her beanbag chair, she glared at the pile of laundry she had ready to take to her parents' house.

  "What is wrong with me?"