Rachel paid attention to the road as she drove. She knew she was in a state and didn’t want to rear-end some innocent bystander. She was confused. Scared and upset and mad at both Greg and herself.
She pulled into her driveway about ten seconds before Greg pulled up next to her. He got out of his truck and circled around to hold open her SUV door.
“What’s up?”
He looked good. His T-shirt was worn with a couple of holes around the collar. He had on baggy shorts that should have been ridiculous, but weren’t. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.
She loved him and she had no idea if he loved her back. If he wanted a relationship with her or if he was just playing her. Fear swept through her—terror at losing him again. And because being afraid terrified her, she retreated to something much, much safer. Anger.
“You!” She poked him in the chest as she got out of the car and glared at him. “How dare you? Was it fun for you? Did you get a good laugh out of making me think you actually gave a damn?”
In the back of her mind a voice whispered that she might want to take this inside, but she ignored it and everything else except her unexpected and possibly inappropriate rage.
“What was with all that crap?” she demanded. “Hanging out here, acting as if you cared about me? Saying all those things about learning your lesson? It was all just lies.”
For one brief second, she hoped he would pull her close and say, “Of course not, Rachel. I’ve loved you forever.” Which didn’t happen. Not even close.
He leaned toward her, his dark eyes bright with anger. “It wasn’t crap. I was working the program, Rachel, even though you don’t make it easy. If anyone has a beef here, it’s me. You’re the one who played me.”
“I didn’t. You started this and now you’re going to twist it around? That is so like you. Well, fine. You got your wish. You hurt me. I’m hurt. Are you happy? I hope it was worth it, because know this. I will never make things easy for you again.”
He took a step back and stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Hurt you? That’s not possible. That would require you to give a shit, which you obviously don’t. So no, I didn’t hurt you.”
What was he talking about? “You did. You’re moving out of your parents’ house. You’re getting your own place. This summer was just a prank. You were doing everything you could to show me you still cared about me. About us. You swore you were a changed man, but you’re not.”
“What do you expect me to do?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “You made your feelings very clear the other day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You called me last!” he yelled. “You hurt your back and you needed help and you called me last. You made sure you told me, too, so I would know just how unimportant I am to you.”
She felt like a cartoon character—the one whose jaw drops to the ground, then stays there. “What are you talking about?”
He turned and walked away three or four steps before facing her. “Do you think I’ve liked living with my parents? I don’t. I’m nearly thirty-six. I feel like a fool. But I did it to save money. Because I kept thinking we would find our way back to each other. I wanted to help pay off the house and have enough left over so that you could cut back on your hours and we could have another baby. That’s what I’ve been doing all summer. Trying to prove myself to you. But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not interested.”
Her brain had fainted or something, because she couldn’t think. “You want us to get back together and have more kids?”
“I thought it was a possibility. Because I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You called me last.” He glared at her as he spoke. “You were hurt and desperate and you called everyone you knew first and then you called me. If you cared about me, if you trusted me and needed me, you would have called me first.”
“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you at the station. If you’d been home, I would have called you first. I was being nice!”
“No. Admit it. You don’t care at all.”
Her anger returned. “You don’t get to speak for me,” she told him. “You don’t get to say what I want or don’t want. You don’t get to say what I was thinking. That’s my right. That’s for me. And even though it doesn’t matter at all, I do care. A lot. So there.”
She got back in her SUV and started the engine. She was shaking so hard, she could barely drive, but there was no way she was staying.
She made it back to the salon in plenty of time for her appointment. She drank water, took her over-the-counter anti-inflammatory and then reviewed her schedule for the rest of the day.
She’d made her point and Greg had made his. The thing was, she didn’t know what either of them was going to do with the information.
* * *
Courtney didn’t expect to sleep the night before her mother’s wedding. She assumed she would lie in bed, going over the thousands of details she had to take care of in the morning. So she was surprised to open her eyes and find out that the sun was up and it was already after six.
She stretched and sat up. Physically she felt pretty good. Rested and determined to make this wedding the best it could be. From the pink champagne to the kazoos Neil had bought.
Judging by the sunshine flowing through her window, the weather wasn’t going to be a problem. Check. As soon as she was dressed, she would follow up on everything else.
But before she could duck into her tiny bathroom, someone knocked on her door. No, not knocked. Pounded.
“Courtney, get up! You have to come quickly.”
She pulled open her door and saw her friend Kelly standing in the hallway. “It’s six in the morning on a Saturday,” she said in a low voice as she pulled her friend into the room. “You’ll wake the other guests.”
Kelly was pale. “Oh, I think that’s the least of their problems.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bees. The ones that have been at the Anderson House? The Drunken Red-nosed Honeybees?”
“Yes, what about them?”
“They’re here. I mean they’re everywhere. I think maybe it’s the flowers we set up for your mom’s wedding. Those weird ones Joyce suggested. Or maybe the cherry blossoms. I don’t know. But there are bees.”
Courtney dressed in record time. She didn’t bother to do more than brush her teeth and grab an elastic to hold her hair back. Then she and Kelly took the stairs to the main floor.
Before they even got to the glass doors leading outside, she could hear it. A low humming sound, like millions of tiny wings. It was a sound out of one of her mother’s favorite old movies. The Naked Jungle. Of course, there the problem had been ants rather than bees, but the result was the same. Disaster and devastation.
Courtney hurried outside to where the staff were setting up for her mom’s wedding. There were bees everywhere. On the tent, on the chairs, but mostly on the beautiful pots of flowers. Several flew by. They ignored the humans and went on their merry bee way. There were hundreds of them. No, thousands. Thousands and thousands of bees right where the wedding was supposed to be.
“We can’t have the wedding out here,” she breathed. “We’re going to have to move it inside. In less than ten hours.”
Could they do it? Fit in that many people? Dinner was a sit-down service rather than a buffet, which required more room. Plus, they’d planned on having two tents, one for the ceremony and one for the reception. But there was only one ballroom, and it couldn’t hold both the ceremony and the reception. It wasn’t big enough.
Her phone buzzed. She reached for it without looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Courtney. It’s Jill Strathern-Kendrick. I’m sorry to bother you.”
It took Courtney a second to put the name with the face. Or in her case, purpose.
“No,” she said faintly. “No, no, no.”
“I’m so sorry. My water just broke. I can’t believe it. I was late last time. We’re going to the hospital. I won’t be able to perform the ceremony.”
A man’s voice in the background urged Jill to hurry.
“It’s fine,” Courtney said automatically. “Go have your baby. It’s fine.”
She hung up. Kelly stared at her. “The judge?”
“Her water broke.”
“Do you have a backup person who can perform the ceremony?”
“Of course.” Courtney scrolled through her contacts until she found the minister in Sacramento who’d agreed to fill in. She dialed.
“Hello?”
The voice was sleepy. Courtney winced when she realized it was still early. “I’m sorry Reverend Milton. The time. I wasn’t thinking. This is Courtney Watson. I’m calling to say I’m going to need you for my mom’s wedding after all.”
There was a moment of silence, then the reverend cleared her throat. “Courtney. This is unexpected. When I didn’t hear from you, I assumed you didn’t need me. I apologize and don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m in Mexico for a few days. A last-minute vacation with my husband.”
“M-Mexico?” No. No! Courtney closed her eyes. “Okay. Thanks. Have a good time.” She hung up and looked at her friend. “My backup minister is in Mexico.”
“Oh, no,” Kelly breathed. “What are you going to do?”
There was a question. What was she going to do?
“Ceremony and reception first, officiant later.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
Somewhere around ten, Courtney stopped to breathe and drink water. Two local bee people had carefully moved all the flowers to the far end of the property. Most of the bees had followed, although enough remained by the hotel to confirm that, yes, the wedding really did have to move inside.
She’d worked the seating chart to fit everyone in the ballroom for the reception, had come up with what she thought was a brilliant solution for where to hold the ceremony, and with a little luck, she was all done with disasters for today.
There was still the problem of who was going to perform the actual wedding, she thought, but there might be an answer to that, as well.
She finished her water, wishing it were tequila instead, then walked around to the bungalow that stood by itself. Quinn’s bungalow. She’d already checked that his Bentley was in the parking lot, so she knew he was home. What she didn’t know was what he was going to say.
Maybe he would tell her off. Maybe he would profess his love again and beg her to be with him. Maybe pretend he didn’t know her. Maybe he would say no.
She knocked once and waited. The door opened. Quinn stood there in all his Quinn-glory. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how good-looking. His hair was too long, his eyes were too blue. He radiated intensity and power.
Her heart cried out to grab him and hold on. Her brain added that might not be such a bad idea. But the fear—oh, how big and powerful it was. The fear made her say, “I’m sorry to bother you, but the woman who was going to perform the ceremony for my mother’s wedding has gone into labor and my backup minister is on vacation in Mexico. I know you’re licensed in the state. Can you fill in?”
She hated how businesslike she sounded. How impersonal. Why couldn’t she be softer? Flirt or something?
“What time?” he asked.
“Five thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
She drew in a breath and tried to think of something to say. Something that would make him smile or laugh or even invite her in. But she couldn’t find any words, and before she could fake it, he closed the door in her face.
* * *
Rachel was the tiniest bit spaced out on muscle relaxers, but as she wasn’t driving, she figured that was okay. Yes, she was doing hair and makeup—so there might be a small risk of things going awry. Still, she decided it was better to enjoy the wedding without having to be in pain or worry about her nicely healing back.
She’d done her own fluffing at her place. Sienna was easy—she also did her own makeup, and her short hair didn’t require much. Courtney had taken a bit of time. They’d decided on a sleek, low ponytail and a smoky eye. Her baby sister was getting more beautiful by the day. Now Rachel finished up with her mother and reached for the can of hair spray.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
Maggie covered her face with her hands as Rachel sprayed her hair. “I’m excited and fluttery, but only in a happy way. I’m so blessed. Neil’s wonderful.”
“He is.”
Rachel finished spraying. “All right, Mom. You’re gorgeous.”
Someone knocked on the bride’s room door. Rachel crossed to it and saw Joyce in the hallway.
“I had to come and see your mother,” she said happily. “Can I come in?”
Maggie rushed to greet her friend and they embraced.
“Are you excited?” Joyce asked.
“Yes. Everything is beautiful.”
“I’m so sorry about the bees.”
“Don’t be. They’re not a problem for me and they’ll be a wonderful story to tell.”
Rachel left the two women talking and retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. She’d done her hair simply—half up, half down with a few curls. She pulled off her yoga pants and T-shirt and put them in her tote, then stepped into the dress.
It fit well, skimming her curves without being so tight that she needed shapewear. Today was officially her cheat day, and she planned to enjoy it.
She checked her makeup, then returned to the bride’s room. Joyce was holding up Maggie’s dress.
“Come on,” the older woman said. “Let’s get you into this.”
They retreated to the bathroom. Rachel started cleaning up her supplies. There was another knock on the bride’s room door.
“Busy place,” she murmured as she went to open it for the second time.
She was surprised to see Greg in the hallway, looking handsome in his medium gray suit and white shirt. He was even wearing a tie. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
“I have to talk to you,” he said, his dark gaze urgent. “Now.”
He took her hand and pulled her out into the corridor, then down the hallway to a door marked Linens. He opened it, drew her inside and then locked the door behind them.
The room was small—maybe ten by ten, lined with shelves filled with stacks of linens. There was a maid’s cart at one end and a big desk at the other.
She looked at her ex. “What’s going on?”
“This.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. No, that was wrong. He claimed her with his mouth, taking everything she had in those few seconds of contact. Heat and need and a deep emotion she was terrified was undying love swelled up inside her. Just when she was about to give in, he drew back.
“We have got to work on our communication skills,” he told her. “Dammit, Rachel, I have been trying to get us back together. I thought you knew that. I thought I made it clear.”
“Well, you didn’t. You weren’t clear at all. You were smug, but not clear.”
“I was courting you.”
He was? “I totally missed that.”
“Apparently. When you said you called me last, I thought there wasn’t any hope. I gave up. I’m sorry. That was wrong.”
She thought about how she’d changed over the past few months and what she’d learned about herself. This was it—the moment to be brave.
“Then let’s start over.” She stared into his eyes. “
Greg, I really didn’t want to bother you at work. That was all. Had you not been at the station, I would have called you in a heartbeat. I swear.” She pressed her lips together, offered a brief prayer for strength, then admitted, “I love you. I’ve been in love with you from our very first date. That hasn’t changed for me. Even when we got divorced, I loved you.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ve been hopeful and scared and angry, all at the same time. I want things to work out between us. I want us to be good together. I don’t want to lose us.”
“Me, either.” He cupped her face again. “Rachel, you’re my world. You and Josh. But one day he’s going to grow up and get his own life and then it will be us. I want that with you. I want forever. I’ve been trying to show you that I’m a better man now. That I’m worthy. I love you so much.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You’ve always been worthy.”
“Before,” he began.
She stopped him with a kiss. “We’ve said all we have to say on that. It’s done. We need to move on.”
He gazed into her eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Because forgiveness made them both stronger.
He urged her to take a step back, then another. “You never lost me, Rachel. After the divorce, I didn’t go out with anyone else. Not even once.”
“Me, either.”
“You’re the one for me. I love you.”
She bumped into the table.
Greg kissed her again. “Just to be clear, we’re getting back together?”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too.” He grinned. “I’ve been saving money for us. We can pay down the mortgage, if you want. Or cut back on work and we can have another baby. Or go to Europe. I want you to be happy, Rachel.”
“Oh, Greg. Yes to whatever you want. I love you.”
She flung her arms around him. He held her tightly against him.
“I swear I’ve learned from my mistakes,” he whispered fiercely.
“I have, too. I’m going to ask for help and tell you what I need.”
Daughters of the Bride Page 36
