“Yes, but I really don’t want to. Thanks.” She wouldn’t tell him in front of Weezie that he had to move out the next morning. Gage had issues with transition, and she was happy to have him, his TV, rug, and chair stay. Harrison could not. He could hole up in a hotel somewhere, and he’d be just fine. “I’ll go by car. And—and you really don’t have to come. You have those songs to write.”
“It’s no trouble. I can’t miss visiting Cornelius after all these years. Especially as I’m not coming to the wedding.”
“What do you mean, you’re not coming to the wedding?” Weezie sounded as if she’d inhaled helium.
True braced herself. Let Harrison explain. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off without making Dubose look bad. There was no need to upset Weezie, and Harrison was a whiz at spin.
“Dubose doesn’t like me,” he said into the silence. “So your sister says I’m not allowed to come.”
True gasped. “Wait a minute.”
“Are you kidding me?” Weezie screeched. “If you’re not going, I’m not going. And that’s no lie.”
True twisted in her seat to look at her. “You’re coming, sister o’ mine. I don’t know why he”—she tilted her head toward the offending party—“is trying to stir up trouble. It’s perfectly natural to leave certain people off the invitation list.”
“Like who?” Weezie demanded to know. Her expression was glacial.
“Like—” Shoot. She was getting herself into trouble. “—like, you know. Old, um, friends you haven’t seen in years.”
“Nuh-uh.” Weezie’s eyes narrowed. “People invite old friends all the time. Do you mean old boyfriends? Because Harrison was never your boyfriend. I remember Daddy getting down the shotgun. He said no debutante daughter of his was going to stay out all night with any boy, but especially with the boy who mowed our lawn.”
True’s face flamed red. “I told you to forget about that.”
Weezie’s eyes widened. “Wait. Did you two … do it? I was so young then. I didn’t get it. But now I do. I know all about one-night stands and the wretched heartache that often follows. Not to mention secret babies.”
Geez. If she only knew she was one of those.
Harrison didn’t say a word. But he had an extremely smug look on his face. True wanted to put him in a room with nothing but a bowl of cold oatmeal. He was a Wild Thing, and she couldn’t believe his audacity in using her sister as leverage to get invited to the wedding.
“This is one of those times when you’re supposed to keep quiet,” she told Weezie in steely tones. “You don’t ask other people about their private lives.”
“But you’re my sister. And you’re trying to exclude one of my very best friends from the wedding.”
Harrison turned the wheel to the right, and they were heading up the dirt road leading to home.
True seethed inside. “I call the shots.” She hoped Weezie was listening. “Harrison doesn’t mind not going.”
“Is that true?” Weezie asked him. “You won’t be able to see me in my bridesmaid dress.”
Harrison cleared his throat. “It’s an unfortunate turn of events over which I have no control.” He stole a sideways glance at True.
Such a martyr was the look she threw back at him. He was eating this up.
“You can be a wedding crasher,” Weezie said. “Like those guys in the movie.”
“I could.” He put the car in park in front of the house. “But then your sister would never talk to me again. And I don’t want that to happen. I’m glad I’ve renewed my friendship with the Maybank girls.”
What a wholesome thing to say. Was he for real? Or was he trying to make her feel guilty?
Because she already did. Tomorrow she was going to tell him to get lost. But he deserved it. He was a troublemaker, as Dubose warned her the day Harrison came back.
Before she knew it, he’d walked around the front of the car, opened her door for her, and held out his hand.
She took it, for the last time. “Thanks,” she mumbled. Touching him still rocked her to her core. He definitely needed to go.
He waited to help Weezie out, too.
Damn him.
Harrison was, as much as True hated to admit it, a genuine gentleman. He was a thoughtful, mischievous one who made her laugh and would no doubt give her as much pleasure in bed now as he had that night on the sand at the Isle of Palms. He was rich. Successful in his field. He knew Brad Paisley and Tim McGraw. He and Tina Fey, of all people, were pals. George Clooney had invited him to his house on Lake Como in Italy, and he’d gone. The queen of England liked his music and invited him to her house for tea.
His eyes were golden brown, and when True looked into them she forgot all that was wrong with her world.
Why are you marrying Dubose again?
She walked quickly up the front porch steps to escape that wicked question.
Inside Gage was in the kitchen wiping down counters with a sponge. “Hi,” he said, looking oddly disheveled. His hair … it was a mess. And his shirt was tucked in only on one side.
“Hi.” True stared a second too long. “Are you okay?”
He stopping wiping. “I’m fine.” But his face registered some kind of stress.
Harrison and Weezie came tumbling in, loudly discussing whether or not the Today show was better than Good Morning America.
“I’ve been interviewed on both.” Harrison’s sexy, smooth voice echoed around the hall. “And I have to say it’s like comparing peanut butter and jelly to grilled cheese. They’re both your favorite.”
“I like fried baloney sandwiches myself,” Weezie said to him, then breezed into the kitchen past True. “It smells good in here. Like an Italian restaurant.”
Harrison stopped at the door, his brows lifted at Gage. “Hey.”
Gage turned his serious gaze to him. “Welcome back.”
Weezie opened the fridge. “Yum, garlic bread and lasagna. Salad, too.”
“How was supper?” Harrison crossed the kitchen floor, his steps slow and sure.
“Excellent.” Gage kept going with the sponge.
True pulled out a chair and was immediately surrounded by dogs sniffing her shirt and shoes. “Did Carmela stay and eat with you?”
Gage nodded. And went back to wiping the counters.
True shared a look with Harrison. Something’s up, his eyes said. She had to agree.
“Anything on your mind?” Harrison leaned lazily against the counter, smack dab in Gage’s way.
Gage stopped moving the sponge around. “Besides wanting my trailer back? No.”
“You look like you been doing tai chi or something.” Harrison refused to rise to the bait.
“You can blame the dogs,” his brother said. “We were roughhousing. You look like you need some serious fashion intervention. Granny glasses are culturally obsolete.”
“I’m bringing ’em back,” said Harrison.
“You could, too.” Weezie high-fived him again.
Gage lobbed the sponge at his brother’s head. “Geek” was all he said.
True was pleasantly surprised. But maybe she shouldn’t be. Gage had been in that tomato fight with Weezie and Carmela, after all. Maybe that had loosened him up.
The sponge skittered off Harrison’s temple to hit the floor, and Skeeter rushed to pick it up. But Harrison got there first and threw the sponge like a Frisbee. It ricocheted off Gage’s abs and landed next to the sink, where it belonged. “Stick with tomatoes, old man. I got sponges covered.” He chuckled triumphantly.
“Pure luck.” Gage looked a bit happier now.
When True stood, she couldn’t help smiling. “I’m going upstairs. See everyone tomorrow.”
“Good night.” Weezie poured herself a glass of milk.
Gage waved at her, then folded a crumpled dish towel and hung it precisely over the oven door.
“Sweet dreams,” Harrison said.
It was weird. True felt happy. And sad. Tomorrow night would b
e different. Harrison would be gone. And who knew? Maybe Gage would feel the need to leave with him. But this ordinary moment felt … like family.
All her life she’d wanted that feeling. It meant you were comfortable. You could be yourself. She’d loved her parents, but the atmosphere had always been slightly strained in the house. The only time she got relief from it was when she visited Harrison at Sand Dollar Heaven. Or hung out with Honey in her attic studio.
When it was just True and Weezie after their parents and Honey died, the tension was still there, mainly because she never quite knew if her decisions were good ones. She felt alone, cast adrift. And even when she’d started dating Dubose again, she felt on edge. She could ask him for advice, but she never wanted to rely on him too much. She was the leader of this family. She had to stay alert.
Harrison squatted down and let the dogs love all over him. “You’re jealous of Boo,” he told George. “No need to be.”
Tails wagged, canine tongues lolled. Show-off Labrador snorting made True laugh. “Good night,” she said again and, without looking back, sauntered down the hall and up the stairs.
Somehow this old house—this very, very old house—had become more than a relic of her family’s long history in Biscuit Creek. It had shifted from dignity to softness and become a safe harbor, her home.
She didn’t want to think of why. She mustn’t think of why.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
When True shut her bedroom door behind her, she sank onto the edge of her bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. There was a lot to get done—all doable, however, so she wasn’t going to stress. But she couldn’t go to sleep without checking in with Carmela.
She texted her: What happened? Gage was a little cagey. More than usual, I think.
I don’t want to talk about it, Carmela texted back. Ever. So please don’t ask.
Uh-oh. Okay, True wrote. I’m worried about you.
Don’t be. I’m a big girl. I’ve got a store to run. Men are stupid. I’d be done with them if they weren’t at the top of my C&N list.
Which is?
Cute and needy. They’re first, followed by kittens, puppies, and baby dolphins.
I’d laugh, True wrote, but you’re upset.
I’ll get over it. Maybe.
Poor Carmela. Well, when you’re ready, call. I have big news.
That’s not fair. Now I’m going to have to call you!
True chuckled. You don’t have to. I’ll tell you right now. The wedding’s going to be here at Maybank Hall.
OMG! That’s great!!!!! came back, and then the phone rang.
“I think I can pull it off,” True said instantly without even looking at the screen.
“Gertrude?” The word was staticky.
True’s stomach dropped. “Penn?” Yikes.
“I’m in London. Did you think I wouldn’t touch base with you? You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“No, no … I wasn’t sure— Isn’t it late over there?”
“Four in the morning. My body clock hasn’t adjusted. How are the wedding plans going?”
True shook her head. “Fine, um, just fine.”
“Everything under control?”
“Yes,” True said softly, scared again. She shut her eyes—Don’t be! You’re the bride!—and opened them again.
“I can’t hear you!”
“Everything’s fine,” True said louder.
“Excellent. Who’s catering?”
“William Parnell.” Of Billy Bob’s Pig Pickin’ Emporium in Moncks Corner.
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s … highly selective.” Not. Unless you counted the fact that he didn’t take credit cards. Only cash.
“I see,” said Penn. “Good for you. What about the venue?”
“It’s a surprise,” True said right away.
There was a pause. “I don’t like surprises.”
It’s not your wedding, True wanted to say back. But refrained—for Dubose’s sake, she told herself. But she knew she was still a little bit afraid of Penn … because she was Penn.
“Surprises are good for you,” True said. “They keep the brain cells young. According to Dr. Oz.” Say something was approved by Dr. Oz and you were golden.
“Dr. Oz is a quack.”
Oh. True looked up at the ceiling. “Um, it’s still a surprise. So you have something to look forward to when you get home. Did your conference go well?”
“No,” Penn said in clipped tones.
“What a shame.” True swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“Right.” True bit her lip. “Okay, I guess we’ll talk soon then.”
“Have you heard from Dubose?”
As a matter of fact, she hadn’t in a while. But she’d been so busy, she’d hardly noticed. “He’s super busy. We talk when we can.”
“All right.” Penn was clearly annoyed. Or maybe she was sleep-deprived. “Just remember what I said.”
“I remember. Waring women are strong and unflappable. I’d like to add that they need to be creative when it comes to problem solving.”
“That’s what personal assistants are for.”
“But I don’t have one. And you’re between assistants.” None stayed long.
“I’ve got Bosey.”
“You do.” That nickname again.
“And he has you.”
“Aw. Thanks, Penn.” It seemed a rather sentimental thing to say.
“Which means that essentially you’re my assistant. So don’t disappoint me. Just don’t.”
And then she hung up.
Ouch. True should have known better than to think Penn would get all warm and fuzzy with her. When she married Dubose, things would smooth out. She’d have more clout, as Dubose’s wife. And he’d stand up for her, she was sure. He’d better. Because if he didn’t, True would have to. She didn’t relish the thought.
There was no way she could sleep now. She called Carmela back and told her Penn called.
“Forget about her,” Carmela said. “Let’s talk only about the wedding plans. Are you stressed or excited?’
“Neither,” True said. “Honestly. I don’t know why except I just want to get it behind me. It’s only a wedding. The important part comes after.”
Carmela sighed. “You’re so wise. I, on the other hand, am an idiot.”
True sat cross-legged and pulled a pillow to her stomach. “Why?”
“I slept with Gage.”
“I suspected shenanigans. I wasn’t sure of the extent. But wow.”
“I know,” Carmela said, “but it was great. And then he ruined it. He said he wouldn’t text me or call me. He’d read modern women need their space. And he gave me the opportunity to go home. So I did.”
“I’m so sorry,” True said. “But we both know he’s different. He didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s awkward, you know?”
“I know.”
“Do you really like him?”
“Yes. I can’t believe it, but I do.” She sighed a most unhappy sigh. “Getting in that tomato fight changed everything. He laughed. He took his shirt off. He was a primo specimen of manhood, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed all those times he came in the store.”
True liked him, too. “So what that he’s kind of clueless sometimes? What guy isn’t? He’s smart and good looking. And I can’t believe that he’d be the type of guy who’d use a girl. He’s too sweet for that.”
“That’s what I thought, too. He was adorably shy. And … the sex. It was incredible.”
“Really?” True was reluctant to admit to herself that she was jealous, but she was.
“I’m not exaggerating. I’ll remember it forever. Even if the rest of the night sucked.”
“Oh, boy.” True could so relate. She’d never forgotten her night with Harrison, either. “So what’s next?”
“Nothing. I’m not going to chase him.”
“But he might
need help understanding how to be in a relationship.”
“Maybe so. But do I want to be the woman who teaches him how—only to be dumped by him later so he can use all the great things I taught him on someone else?” Carmela was getting worked up.
“No, Carmela,” True said softly. “You can’t let your old boyfriend in New York make you bitter. Stop right now.”
“Okay.” Carmela hiccupped a little. “I’ll try. But I’m tired of losing men I love.”
“You didn’t love him.”
“But I loved my dad. And he was taken way too soon.”
“He was a hero. Cling to that.”
“I do,” Carmela whispered.
“He wouldn’t want you to give up hope.”
“I know.”
True could hear the guys and Weezie coming upstairs.
“In 1941, German scientists accidentally created a polyurethane with bubbles in it,” Gage was saying.
“Enough about sponges,” Weezie said next. “Did you know that Ireland’s The Late Late Show is the world’s longest-running talk show?”
“So?” Gage said. “In 1954, the first commercial production of foamed polyurethane began. From there, our modern kitchen sponges evolved.”
“La-di-effin’-da to both of you,” said Harrison. “I just want to know who won the Braves–Yankees game and what the weather’s gonna be like tomorrow morning.”
True knew why. For their paddleboarding expedition that wasn’t going to happen.
“I almost kissed Harrison,” she confessed to Carmela.
“Damn those Gamble boys.”
They both started to laugh—but stopped at the same time.
“We’ll be okay,” True whispered, her eyes stinging just a little. “We don’t need to analyze it to death. We just need to move forward. Both of us.”
“Yeah,” Carmela answered back, sniffling. “Take each day as it comes.” A few seconds went by. “Good night.”
“Good night.” True hung up, crept to her bedroom door as if she were deathly ill—because she felt weak and depressed now—and turned off her light.
When she crawled back into bed, she stared into the darkness a long time, wondering why Dubose hadn’t called or texted—and why she hadn’t tried, either.
Sweet Talk Me Page 20
