And stared at an envelope bearing his name.
He stilled, then his gaze shifted around the room.
All traces of her were gone.
Her backpack, her clothes that had lain scattered across the floor. The lotion she’d set on the nightstand.
His gaze jerked back to the envelope, and a sick feeling gripped him, his every instinct screaming that he wasn’t going to like what he read. As if in a trance, he reached for the envelope. Unfolded the letter. Read her words.
When Brett finished, his hand fisted, crumpling the paper, which he then heaved across the room. After the wadded paper hit the wall, it fell to the floor.
Where it joined his shattered heart.
21
KAYLA SAT in the stretch limo next to Meg and adjusted her sister’s voluminous bridal veil. Their mother sat across from them, blotting her eyes which had sprung a leak the minute she’d seen Meg in her wedding gown. Cindy was practicing deep breathing to stave off the motion sickness she suffered along with morning sickness. Meg had threatened to sue her if she hurled in the limo and Kayla wasn’t sure that Meg was kidding. After all the exhausting preparations that had gone into this wedding, by God, no one, preggers or not, better have the nerve to barf.
Well, after today, Bridezilla would be married and, with any luck, after a two-week honeymoon in Hawaii, Meg would revert back to being merely a type A personality, as opposed to insanely type-A plus.
“Are you all right, Kayla?” her mom asked, peering at her through watery eyes. “You haven’t seemed like yourself lately, dear. Not since you returned from South America. Oh, I hope you didn’t pick up one of those viruses you read about in the paper.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Kayla lied. She was actually the exact opposite of fine, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Certainly not here and now. Maybe after the wedding was over, but really what was there to say? Girl met perfect boy with whom she fell madly, passionately in love. Girl was lying idiot and lost perfect boy. Girl now wallowing in lonely misery of her own making.
Because she had absolutely lost him.
She’d left him in that hotel room with that letter exactly one month ago. While her common sense had told her she’d never hear from him again, her heart…her foolish, head-over-heels-in-love heart had continued to hold on to a thread of hope that he’d understand. Forgive her. Still want her in spite of what she’d written to him.
But as the days had turned into weeks, her heart had slowly crumbled, turning to dust. Of course he didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t forgive her.
Of course he didn’t still want her.
Why would he? He could have any woman he wanted. For a short, magical time, she was the one he’d wanted. But that time had passed, and she needed to move on.
But, good God, it was so difficult to do so when every time she thought of him it hurt to breathe. And she thought about him all the time.
Of course, the wedding preparations had kept her busy for the last miserable month-very helpful since she didn’t have anything else to occupy her time or thoughts. After today, she wouldn’t even have the Great Bridal Diversion to distract her any longer. No, she’d just have lots of free time. Free time with nothing to do but think about Brett.
“You know, there’s going to be a lot of eligible men at the wedding.” Her mother gave her an encouraging nod. “You might find Mr. Right amongst Robert’s scads of single lawyer friends.”
“Just double-check with me before you agree to date any of them,” Meg said. “There are a few who have out-of-state girlfriends they conveniently forget to mention when they’re not around.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Kayla said, turning to look out the tinted window at the busy Manhattan street, “but I’m not looking.”
“Which is exactly when you find Mr. Right,” her mom said in her mother-knows-best voice.
Too late. Found him. Lost him. Can we please move on?
“Well, next week, you and Cindy and I will go shoe-shopping together,” Mom said. “That’ll cheer you up.”
“Don’t wanna go shoe-shopping,” Cindy roused herself to say. “Wanna sleep. Wanna not barf.”
“We all want you to not barf,” Meg informed her in a lawyerly voice that no doubt wrung confessions from hardened criminals. “In fact, I forbid you to barf.”
Kayla forced a smile for her mother’s benefit. “Shoe-shopping sounds…” Exhausting. And like a total waste of time. Given her situation, she couldn’t afford to splurge on footwear she didn’t need. “…like fun.”
The limo stopped at a light and Kayla saw Delriccio’s bakery on the corner. Just something else that had gone wrong lately. Every time she’d visited the bakery this past week they’d been completely sold out of her favorite hand-dipped double chocolate chunk biscotti. Jeez. On top of being utterly miserable, she was going through biscotti withdrawal. Of course, being sold out of the double chocolate chunk was probably a good thing, since her Vera Wang maid-of-honor gown was feeling a tad snug, thanks to all the pity-party biscotti she’d consumed during the last month.
She shifted and grimaced at the zipper pinching into her back. Okay, fine, her dress was more than a tad snug. She’d barely gotten the damn zipper up. Even pregnant Cindy looked less pudgy. She lived in fear of drawing too deep a breath and splitting her Wang from seam to seam. If the mortification of that didn’t kill her, Meg surely would, for ruining the wedding.
But, as miserable as she was, what difference did a few extra inches around her waist and some cellulite on her ass matter? Oh, right, don’t forget to toss in the trio of zits on her forehead. They just perfectly closed the deal.
She glanced at her watch. Only about ten or eleven more hours in the tight dress and uncomfortable shoes. Then she could go home and crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head.
Arriving at the church, Kayla had little to do before the ceremony began, since Meg had seen to it that every detail was taken care of. In spite of Meg’s tendency to be bossy, Kayla couldn’t help but admire her formidable sister. She’d known what she wanted and had gone after it and planned her perfect wedding and that’s all there was to it.
So she was surprised when, just before they were to line up to walk down the aisle, Meg turned to her and asked in an uncertain voice, “It’s all good, right, Kayla?”
Kayla reached out and squeezed her hand. “Meg, everything is absolutely perfect.”
Walking down the aisle, Kayla held her head high and smiled at the assembled friends and relatives, forcing herself to concentrate on Meg’s happiness and not her own misery. And to not breathe in too deeply-lest she and Vera Wang suffer an unfortunate parting of the ways.
The ceremony was beautiful, from the flowers to the words to the music. Listening to Meg and Robert exchange vows, their love for each other so obvious, tears gathered in Kayla’s eyes. Tears of envy because she wanted what they had-minus all the Bridezilla stuff, of course. Tears of joy because she was genuinely happy for her sister. And tears of loss because she’d lost a man who’d once looked at her through golden-brown eyes filled with the same sort of warmth and admiration shining in the groom’s eyes for his bride.
After the ceremony and receiving line, the bridal party assembled in the church for pictures. Endless pictures. Good God, how many pictures could they take?
Then the picture taking moved outside. Posing on the church steps. More photos. Thank goodness Meg had refused to allow the traditional rice or bird seed to be tossed. Instead everyone held tiny little bottles of bubbles, and when the signal was given, they all blew out a stream of bubbles, engulfing the bride and groom in thousands of delicate soap spheres that floated up with the warm summer breeze.
Meg and Robert ran amongst the bubbles to the white antique Rolls Royce that would transport them to Central Park for more pictures, then onto the Waldorf Astoria for the reception. The rest of the bridal party would meet them at the Waldorf, traveling in style in the stretch limo. And once they
arrived, they’d be subjected to more picture taking.
The crowd slowly dispersed, and Kayla stood on the top step, chatting with her cousin Daniel who lived in Florida, and whom she hadn’t seen in five years. He was talking about some night club he’d invested in and even though she nodded politely, her attention wandered to the people milling around on the steps and sidewalk. Uncle Will and Aunt Gwen were chatting with her mom and Cindy. Meg’s boss and his wife were talking to a young couple Kayla didn’t know. Cousins Debbie and Marla. Another couple Kayla didn’t recognize. Brett Thornton.
She went perfectly still, then blinked twice, certain she was seeing wrong.
But there was no mistake. Brett stood on the sidewalk below, looking up the stairs, his gaze fixed on her.
For several stunned seconds she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Could only stare. For one crazy instant she thought he was a guest-some cruel trick of fate that he somehow knew Meg or Robert and had been invited to the wedding, not realizing the bride was her sister.
But no, he was dressed casually in jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.
Her heart jumped back to life and she reached out to grip the banister lest her trembling legs gave out. Afraid to so much as blink, in case he was some sort of mental mirage brought on by misery and biscotti deprivation, she excused herself to Daniel, then moved down one cautious step. When Brett didn’t disappear, she risked another, then another.
His gaze never moved from her, and she continued with her jerky steps. When she passed by where her mother stood, Kayla heard her ask, “Honey, are you okay?”
She nodded. At least she thought she did. She tried to. She could feel the weight of her mother’s stare on her back, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t pause until only six feet separated her and Brett. And then, wouldn’t you know it, her throat slammed shut. She had to swallow three times to find her voice, and then only managed to say, “Hi” in a high-pitched voice she didn’t recognize.
“Hello, Kayla.”
A breath she hadn’t realized she was holding whooshed from her lungs. Until he’d spoken, part of her had really wondered if he might be a mirage.
“Wh-what are you doing here? Out for a walk?”
“No.” He regarded her through very serious eyes. “I came here to see you.”
Oh, God, she was going to fall down. Right here, on the sidewalk. After locking her shaky knees, she wet her lips then said, “You did?”
“I did. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past week, but since we’d never exchanged phone numbers or addresses and you’re unlisted, it’s been challenging.” He slipped his hands into his back pockets and she pressed her lips together, trying to force back the memory of those talented hands skimming down her body. Gently framing her face.
“I tried to find you through La Fleur, but when I called the company, all the receptionist would tell me is that you don’t work there anymore.”
She nodded. “That’s correct. I don’t.”
He studied her for several seconds, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Then I remembered about your sister getting married. I checked the announcements in the Times, and found the name Watson, saw that the wedding was here, today. And here I am.”
Yes, and here he was. Looking so big and strong and gorgeous she wanted to throw herself into his arms. And staring at her with an unreadable expression that had her heart jumping in her chest.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered, appalled when her voice broke on the last word. She offered up a quick prayer to the Patron Saint of Tissues to please not let her cry. Surely such a simple prayer could be answered, seeing as how they stood right outside a church.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked. “Or do you need to leave right now?”
“I have some time. Meg and Robert are going to stop in the park for a few pictures,” she looked skyward, “or a few hundred pictures, before going to the Waldorf.”
The ghost of a smile touched his lips, and her breath hitched at the suggestion of the dimple in his cheek. He nodded toward the church. “Do you think we could sit in there and talk?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of seats.”
She turned and started up the stairs, carefully lifting the hem of her Wang because of all the times to go splat, this would be a really bad one. She heard him climbing the stone steps behind her and an image of them hiking the trail flashed through her mind, of his teasing smile as he ogled her butt.
She strongly doubted he was ogling her now. In fact she hoped he wasn’t, because if he was, he’d surely notice that there was more to ogle.
As she neared her mother and Cindy, both of whose avid glances were bouncing between her and Brett, she shot them a please-don’t-ask look and said, “I’ll be along soon. Don’t wait the limo for me. I’ll just grab a cab and meet you at the Waldorf.”
And then, in case they missed the don’t-ask look, she kept on climbing, not wanting to perform introductions to a man they’d never see again. As it was, she’d have to field dozens of questions the moment she arrived at the reception.
“Who’s that man with Kayla?” she heard Cindy whisper to their mother. Unfortunately, Cindy didn’t know how to whisper, and when she tried, she was invariably louder than if she’d just spoken normally.
“I don’t know, but it’s my guess he’s the reason she’s been so distraught,” answered Mom, in the same loud whisper she’d passed along the gene pool to Cindy.
“She’s been distraught?”
“Oh, yes, dear. Ever since she returned from Peru. You’ve just been too busy barfing to notice.”
Kayla winced and kept climbing, trapped from sprinting up the steps by her high heels and tight Wang.
After passing through the vestibule, Kayla led the way into the empty church, then slid into the last pew, relieved to be off her feet. Brett sat next to her, turning sideways in the seat to face her, then setting a shiny blue shopping bag on the floor. Where had that come from? Obviously he’d had it all along and she just hadn’t noticed. Not surprising, given her shock at seeing him.
The last thing she wanted was to look into those golden-brown eyes that had once regarded her with desire, knowing that no longer seeing it would hurt. But she owed him the courtesy of meeting his gaze.
And when she did, her heart hurt at the unreadable expression with which he regarded her. Well, she supposed she deserved this. For whatever reason, he obviously wanted to have it out face to face, so she might as well get it over with.
“What did you want to talk about, Brett?”
“A lot of things. But first, I want to know about your job. Why don’t you work at La Fleur anymore?”
“Does it matter?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t.” He frowned. “Did you lose your job because of me?”
“No.”
He looked…surprised? “I’d like to know what happened, Kayla,” he said quietly.
She hesitated, then, looking down at her hands, said, “Very well. I resigned. I gave my two-week notice the day I returned from Peru.”
Silence greeted her answer, then one quiet word. “Why?”
She looked up and again met his gaze. “Because I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Because I was ashamed of my boss for expecting me to spy on you and of myself for agreeing to do so. I no longer wanted to be involved in any way with anything to do with your formula, so I took myself out of the game.”
“By resigning.”
“Yes.”
“So you don’t have a job?”
“I don’t.” She lifted her chin. “But I have my integrity and self-respect back, or at least I’m working on it. Unfortunately they don’t pay the rent, but I have a few promising prospects lined up.” She paused, then said, “I want you to know…I didn’t repeat anything you said about your formula to my boss. I know you don’t have any reason to believe me but-”
“I believe you.”
Those
three softly spoken words stilled her and she pressed her hands together so he wouldn’t see them trembling.
“Thank you. That’s more than I deserve.”
She waited for him to say something, anything, but when the silence swelled and he merely kept looking at her, a frown bunching his brows while his gaze roamed her features, she finally asked, “Why had you wanted to get in touch with me?”
Instead of answering, he said, “That woman, on the stairs, was she your mother?”
“Yes. And my sister, Cindy.”
“Your mother said you’d been distraught ever since you came home from Peru.”
She shrugged. “You know how moms are.”
“She seemed to think the reason you were distraught was because of a man.”
“Mom doesn’t know I resigned from my job. Neither do my sisters. I didn’t want to tell them before the wedding because they’d only worry and ask ten thousand questions I didn’t feel up to answering.”
His gaze pinned hers. “So the reason you’ve been distraught has only to do with leaving your job?”
“Actually, that has nothing to do with it. I’m not now, nor have I been, distraught over leaving my job, Brett. I have no regrets in regard to that decision.”
“Then why have you been upset?”
“You can’t figure it out?”
“I’d prefer that you tell me.”
She again looked down at her hands, digging deep for courage, then raised her head to meet his gaze. “All right. You deserve the words. I’ve been distraught because I fell in love with you. And because of my actions, I lost you. I’m hoping that someday I won’t feel quite so distraught, but that day hasn’t come yet. I can tell you it’s not today. Tomorrow’s not looking real good, either.”
She drew another bracing breath. “And even though I explained everything in my letter and tried to tell you how sorry I was, you also deserve a face-to-face apology. I’m sorry, Brett. I deeply regret my reasons for going to Peru and can only reiterate that those reasons had nothing to do with my attraction to you or my decision to sleep with you or the feelings I developed for you.”
Just Trust Me… Page 19
