by Susan Meier
He grabbed her hand when she tried to move away. They stared into each other’s eyes, and he got a feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The desire to kiss her was so strong, he felt himself being drawn in. Not caring who was watching.
Piper pulled Isabelle away. “If Maryann stabbed Devon, she’s going to stab Finn and Cade, too. You need to go rescue them.”
With one last longing glance, Isabelle said, “Sure,” and walked up the aisle of the church, following Buds and Blossoms’ new manager to the room where Bob and Devon’s brothers awaited their flowers.
Devon watched her until Ellie caught his arm and spun him around. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He peered over at her. “Doing?”
“You’re dating someone!” Piper said, then she snorted. “Well, sleeping with someone. But you just flirted with Isabelle!”
“I—”
Ellie got in front of Piper. “Whatever you’re thinking, forget it. Isabelle is a nice girl and…well, she’s not the sleeping around kind.” She pointed a finger at his chest. “Behave yourself.”
Devon stepped back, away from Ellie’s poking finger. But her warning was well heeded. Whatever that feeling was that had attacked him when Isabelle pinned on his boutonniere, it had almost ruined the perfect charade he had going. And it messed around with his new-found independence. He didn’t want to be feeling “connections” with Isabelle. He’d had enough connections and responsibilities in his life. This time was about him enjoying himself. He and Isabelle were lovers and co-workers who would screw that up if they started getting serious. So although he wasn’t thrilled that Ellie had stabbed his chest, he and Isabelle clearly had needed a wakeup call about getting too cozy in public.
Piper said, “Come on, LuAnn. Let’s go into the bride’s room.”
He started to follow, if only to get out of the way of the procession of wedding guests, but he didn’t want to be alone in a room with two women who were yelling at him about his love life.
So he stayed in the vestibule with the arriving guests who all said, “Hello, Devon,” gushed over his tux, told him he looked good in pink with his dark hair and dark eyes, and in general fussed over him.
He developed a system of returning their hellos and directing them into the church, until suddenly all the seats were full, the church bells rang, his mom came out of the bride’s room with his two sisters-in-law, and the whole shebang started.
Isabelle sucked in a breath when the organist shifted from the bridesmaid processional to a softer, more beautiful piece. Everyone rose, and Devon and his mom appeared at the back of the church.
Stunning in her long pink gown, LuAnn glowed as she clung to Devon’s arm. Drop-dead gorgeous in his tux, Devon looked solemn and sure, but about halfway down the aisle he sought her gaze and held it until he walked past her pew.
Her heart soared. She hadn’t wanted to push him or risk the wrong kind of scene by kissing him when he’d snagged her hand after she pinned on his boutonniere. So, though she hadn’t been thrilled Piper yanked her away, she did realize it was for the best. This wasn’t the time or place to announce they were dating. She didn’t want to steal LuAnn’s thunder with an announcement that would have everyone’s tongue wagging. After pinning the groomsmen’s flowers and Bob’s boutonniere, she’d come into the church and found a seat with Piper’s mom, Karen O’Riley.
But the way he’d taken her hand when she’d pinned his boutonniere and that eye contact as he’d walked down the aisle had her insides humming. At some point tonight, the move was coming. The big admission. Probably he would get comfortable enough to dance with her. And the world would know they were dating.
The ceremony was elegant but quick. Everyone filed out of the church while the happy couple and their wedding party posed for pictures.
Isabelle slipped away to the fire hall to check on the last-minute details. As she walked into the kitchen, she noticed Sandy Wojak dressed in a blue lace dress and realized she’d probably also been at the ceremony.
She checked the table settings with a happy sigh, since every vase and M&M’s dish was perfect. Every linen napkin had a crisp crease. But she also noticed name cards at the place settings. Sometime last night, LuAnn must have decided to have specific seating. She’d sworn up and down she didn’t want a seating chart. That she wanted everybody to be comfortable finding their own seat mates. Obviously at some point she’d changed her mind. Maybe she’d created a chart with the Dinner Belles? Maybe they’d talked her into it?
When the bride and groom arrived for the dinner, they sat at the main table with their wedding party, Bob’s grown daughters, and their husbands. Their kids, Bob’s grandkids, had special seating in front of the bridal table. Karen O’Riley, Barbara Beth, and a few of the Dinner Belles, close friends of LuAnn’s, also had a table in the front. Isabelle walked up to join them but quickly noticed her name wasn’t on any of the seating cards.
Not thinking anything of that, but realizing she probably had a table somewhere, Isabelle searched for a place card with her name on it, but didn’t find one.
She ended up in the back of the fire hall where the tables were first-come, first-served.
An odd pinch about being forgotten rippled through her, but in the end she decided it didn’t matter, as long as LuAnn was happy.
She once again felt a little out of place when the meal started and she could barely hear Devon’s toast. She didn’t even know he would be making a toast. She felt even more uncomfortable when the band began to play and everyone from LuAnn’s family and Bob’s family danced. Devon danced with Barbara Beth.
Telling herself not to let any of that get to her, she walked up to LuAnn after she’d danced with all three of her sons and Bob was dancing with his daughters.
“Is there anything I can do? Anything out of place that needs to be fixed?”
LuAnn turned to her in surprise. “Oh. No! Izzy! Sorry. Everything’s perfect.”
His arm around Barbara Beth’s waist, Devon came over and said, “You did a fantastic job, Isabelle. Everything’s wonderful. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and enjoy the party now?”
“Excuse me?”
He smiled at her. “Your work as wedding planner is done.” He nudged her. “Enjoy yourself.”
Barbara Beth smiled. “Yeah, sweetie. Time to have a little fun.”
Okay. She knew Ellie and Piper had probably told Barbara Beth that Devon had a new person in his life, someone he kept a secret because he wasn’t really dating her; he was only sleeping with her. She also knew Ellie and Piper had probably told Barbara Beth that Isabelle was fine with that. She’d actually perpetrated that part of the charade herself.
She also recognized that Devon was dipping into the relationship pool one toe at a time. He wasn’t going to jump into announcing they were dating. So this weird feeling of insult rolling through her was wrong.
She sucked in a breath and faced Devon. “I think I will get a drink.”
Half expecting him to follow her, she got her first stirrings of real misgiving when he spent the night fast dancing with Barbara Beth and sitting out slow dances. Isabelle danced with Piper and Ellie and also sat out slow dances while they danced with their husbands.
When the reception was nearly over and Ellie and Finn and Cade and Piper were preparing to walk to the dance floor for the final slow dance, Piper casually said, “You know what, Devon? I’m sorry we got in your face this afternoon. To prove we realize you can be trusted, why don’t you and Isabelle slow dance?”
The air came back to Isabelle’s lungs. Finally. They were going to dance. He was going to remember he couldn’t resist her, and he was going to see it was time to let everyone know they were seeing each other. Especially since they really were dating now. They’d gone to Pittsburgh twice a week for supper for the last few weeks. They talked all afternoon while they swam. They were more than sex buddies.
She turned to him with a smile, but h
e shrugged and said, “Nah. I think I’ll get a drink.”
With that, he pivoted and walked away from her, as Piper and Cade, and Ellie and Finn walked onto the dance floor, leaving Isabelle standing alone in the middle of a big empty space.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or kick something.
Enough was enough. Whether Devon liked it or not, it was time they went public.
She marched to the bar, took his arm, and spun him around. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He glanced at his drink. “Having a cocktail?”
“You couldn’t dance one dance with me?”
He shot her an incredulous look. “No.”
A sickening realization sent red hot lava through her blood. He wasn’t having one bit of trouble avoiding her. Part of her even thought he might be enjoying it. Not the charade. The freedom. He liked sex. But he didn’t like commitments. Ties. Girlfriends.
Hadn’t he been saying that all along?
She stepped back. “Oh my God.”
His incredulous look became a puzzled frown. “What?”
“Oh my God. I’m so stupid.”
He shook his head. “You’re not stupid.”
“Oh… Oh.” She could barely get her brain to form words. Because she had been stupid. She’d taken wrong meanings from everything that had happened between them, mitigating his words, his wishes, because she wanted something real to be happening between them.
She took another step back. “Yes. I am stupid.”
She spun away from him and ran out of the fire hall, fishing her key out of her shiny silver evening bag. Mortified, she slipped into her car and raced off to her apartment.
Devon watched Isabelle run out of the fire hall, knowing exactly why she was so upset. He’d ignored her all night. To keep their charade going, he’d had to. He’d thought she knew that. But the pain he’d seen in her eyes told him the way he’d behaved had hurt her.
The realization went through him like a knife. She was a sweet, innocent woman, and he was a man enjoying his freedom. He should have known better than to get involved with her. But she’d tempted him and he’d taken her.
Still, she’d been on board with everything they’d done, until this wedding. He’d told her he didn’t do “relationships.” His parents’ horrible marriage had soured him, but more than that he was finally free of the demands of his family. He didn’t want any new responsibilities. Commitments. He wanted this freedom. Maybe even needed it.
Of course, he’d never told her any of that.
He remembered the pain in her eyes, and his heart tumbled a bit. He didn’t like hurting her.
Maybe he should tell her.
He glanced at the fire hall door again. Telling her the truth meant a step of trust he wasn’t sure he could take. But hurting her also weighed heavily on his heart. And he didn’t want to lose her.
The question was, could he tell her? Could he be vulnerable enough to take a breath and admit he couldn’t make a commitment to her?
It was a risk. Once he told her he needed his freedom, the stars of possibility would fall from her expectations. She’d see their relationship for what it was: temporary—which might be the end of anything personal between them.
No.
He could keep her. He knew he could keep her.
He just had to make her see his way was for the best. Because he’d been bound by responsibility for so long he couldn’t have the kind of relationship she wanted, and he couldn’t bear to lose her.
Inside her tiny living room, Isabelle couldn’t even cry. Seriously. Devon had never been anything but honest with her. She was the doofus who’d created a whole ridiculous scenario around a bunch of stuff she’d interpreted the wrong way.
She put her hands on the sides of her head. Holy crap, she was stupid. And mortified.
The sound of feet pounding up her apartment steps filled the small space. Then a knock at her door. “Isabelle? I know you’re here. Your car’s here.”
She wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. She wanted to walk into the ocean and hope a big fish gobbled her up in one bite. She wanted never to step out of this apartment again.
“Go away.”
“Sweetie—”
She angrily spun to face the door. Sweetie?
“I know all that back at the wedding probably seemed hard to take, but you know we’re trying to keep our affair a secret.”
Sweetie?
She couldn’t handle the pet name from a man who never used them, and stormed to the door. Whipping it open, she said, “Sweetie?”
“You are mad.”
“No. I think tonight I just came to my senses.”
“And I think we need to talk.” He stepped inside her small living room and slid his arms around her waist, but she shrugged out of them.
He sighed. “Isabelle. You can’t be mad at me for doing what we agreed to.”
With him standing so close, her anger abated. But it didn’t become happiness. It shifted into sadness. And disappointment. He was right. She couldn’t be angry with him for what they’d agreed to. But she could be angry that he didn’t see what had been happening between them.
“You like me.”
“Actually I do. Very much.”
“Then why the secrecy? Why am I not worth a little of your time?”
“You’re worth all of my time. We spend virtually every minute of every day together.”
“Except not in the future, if you don’t see us lasting.”
“I do see us lasting. That’s the point. We’re good together. Good enough that I think what we have could last a long, long time.”
“So you could go on forever not acknowledging me?”
“You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying.”
“I don’t think so. I think you loved being free tonight. Not having to be with me.”
He took a breath. “Maybe a little, yes. But not the way you think. Or for the reasons you think.”
“Then why don’t you tell me the way it is?”
After another quick breath of air, he said, “It all has to do with always being my family’s protector, seeing my father be a fake, being exhausted over pretending everything was fine while caring for everyone around me and just wanting to be left alone.”
“You want me to leave you alone?”
He shook his head. “No. What I’m saying is I don’t have the mental energy for what you want, and I don’t want to be a fake.”
“You’re faking what you feel for me?”
“Absolutely not. I have feelings for you like I’ve never had for anyone. I tried to think of the words on the way over, so I could help you understand, and I just can’t find a good way to say it. I can’t explain what’s going on inside me to myself, so how could I explain it to you?”
For the first time in hours, she laughed. “Oh, Devon.” She walked over and slid her arms around his neck. “That thing you can’t explain is falling in love. And it’s not bad. It’s good. Why don’t you just let yourself fall?”
He took her hands off his neck. “Now, I think we’re getting into a discussion that’s going to hurt you if we don’t back off.”
She tilted her head to study him. “You really don’t see it?”
He stepped back. “See that what we have is becoming love? After two months?”
“Love doesn’t have a timetable.”
“It doesn’t have to. Because I refuse to fall in love. I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t trust it. It’s not going to sneak up on me one day and take me by surprise. I’m careful.” He met her gaze. “But for good reason. I didn’t just see what love did to my parents and my family. I saw what it did to me. My commitments made me a prisoner of a sort. Not that I didn’t want to help my family, but I never felt I had a life…until now. Now I feel that I have the freedom to be myself. And I don’t want to go back to having somebody depend on me.” He pulled in another breath. “Not even for kisses.” He kept
his eyes on hers. “That’s why I’m careful.”
“Oh.” And for Isabelle the humiliation came rolling back, full force, but with it came a terrible understanding. Just as her parents had put a lot on her the past few weeks, Devon’s family had crushed him with responsibilities. It was no wonder he liked to play in bed. No wonder he began taking every afternoon to swim. He was changing, but not because of her. Because with his two brothers and even his mom now married, he was free. And he didn’t want to be tied down again. Not even to her. She took a step back from him, increasing the distance between them.
She worked to hold on to her pride, not quite able to let him go yet. She knew he loved her. She absolutely knew it. But he didn’t love her enough.
Still, she held her head high. “So we’re back to your terms or no terms?”
“You make it sound terrible, when it’s really not.”
“But you’ll never love me.”
“Probably not.” His voice softened. “But isn’t what we have worth something?”
“I’d be a mistress.”
“A well-cared-for lover.”
That one shredded her heart. Shredded it. Left it bleeding. Because she’d be exactly what the town gossips said she’d be. A gold digger and nothing more. Ever.
He was incredibly calm for someone who was ripping another person’s heart in half. Incredibly cool. Incredibly detached. A far cry from the guy whose eyes had filled with tears when looking at a baby girl, who’d made love to her so sweetly, and who basically hadn’t spent more than six hours apart from her since she returned from San Diego.
She was such a damned fool.
“You better go.”
“Promise me you’ll think this through and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“So we can go back to what we had?” Her chest hurt. Her heart felt like it had been through a wringer. And her pride? It was in shreds at her feet.
“You’re a businesswoman, Isabelle. A woman who is going to be traveling. You’re not a woman who’s going to settle down, have kids, and decorate a house. Having affairs is going to be part of your life.”
