Victoria snagged the phone before taking her place at the small bistro table that saved the kitchen from being overcrowded. Her purse was—someplace else. Probably one of her bridesmaids would have it. She ignored the hope on her mom’s face and dialed a number from memory. As she predicted, Jonathon was already back at his desk. He’d probably left the church right after her announcement and driven straight there. He worked more hours than even her and Logan, and would find his job a way to deal with his worry until he saw her next.
“Jon?”
Her mother stiffened and the tea she was pouring slopped into the saucer.
“Victoria! What the fuck? Are you okay? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I’m fine.” Probably a lot of people were trying to call her, so not having her phone was a good thing. She sucked in a deep breath. Time to practice. “Logan decided he couldn’t go through with the marriage.” There, that didn’t hurt at all. The truth didn’t hurt. It flayed and tortured.
“I can’t believe that.”
“Believe it. He blew me off.”
“Jesus. I’m sorry, sweetie. That bastard.” Her boss thought Logan Doherty was one of the hottest slices of manhood on the face of the planet, but his loyalty was to her and it was a tiny balm on the painful pandemonium in her chest.
“Gave me an idea for an advert, Jon. It’ll appeal to a wide variety of users. We might as well capitalize on the publicity.”
Silence. Jonathon King was never silent. She waited and wondered if maybe she’d lost her mind, but then he cleared his throat. “You never cease to amaze me. Would it be therapeutic maybe, Tori? Help you out a bit?”
“Definitely.”
“Then get your ass in here. We’ll get started.”
“An hour,” she promised, glad he understood her need. When the going got tough, Victoria Sparrow immersed herself in her work. But first, she had to get to her house and change clothes after having a cup of tea with her mom.
She powered down the phone and nodded her thanks for the beverage. One sugar flavored the deep amber of the orange pekoe, a favorite of her Gran’s. The teacups had belonged to her grandmother too, and the nostalgia couldn’t hurt. A sip, followed by another, eased her aching throat and soothed her belly, if not doing a thing for that vast hole in her heart. Her Gran said a good cup of tea could fix anything. Maybe she should make a bathtub full and drown herself in it.
“You’re going to stuff it down, after all. You won’t talk about it and it’ll mark you. You’ll carry it the way you did your father’s rejection until it impacts the rest of your life.” Her mother’s voice reminded her of reality.
“Mom, I’m gutted. I won’t pretend to you. And I’m pretty sure I’m aware of how this will impact my life because I’m destroyed. Devastated. Okay? I’m not hiding from it. But please don’t play therapist and compare Logan to Daddy.” She gulped some tea. “Sadly, a small part of me isn’t surprised. He cut a swathe amongst the ladies for a decade or more, and why would he settle for me?” For the likes of me. “But I’m not going to hide and dwell on it. What’s the point?”
And she wasn’t going to let it slip to her mom that she accepted there was no real reason for Logan to change for her when he wasn’t damaged. Because then her loving parent would adopt that therapist persona again and be tortured with guilt.
Her mother rested a hand over hers, and the warmth was comforting. “He loves you, Tori. There’s an explanation. I know it. Delores really wants you to call her. Please.”
“Look. I just went through one of a woman’s worst nightmares. I don’t want to hear her try to comfort me. Make excuses for her son’s behavior.” Delores had lucked out, losing Victoria as a daughter-in-law.
“You think I don’t know how that feels, Victoria? That I don’t remember?”
“Sorry, Mom. Really.” She knew her dad walking out had gutted her mom too. Hadn’t he told her she should have given him a son? Like it was her fault? And then Victoria had lived with the culpability of not being a boy child for more years than she could count, the shame staining her psyche. No matter how her mother tried to reassure her differently. It had shaped her. Wrecked her as a person. She’d never felt good enough, and hid that lack behind blind ambition and hard work. Relationships with men—even boys—always ended the same way. On their terms, because she was so afraid to commit. Until Logan.
“I know, lamb. I know you are. But I know why your father left—no matter how stupid the reason—and it helps. Because it was about him and not us.”
She didn’t want to hear trumped-up excuses. Not when she knew the truth. She tried to deflect. “What could anyone say that would explain that last-minute dumping? All those guests…”
She would have to think about the logistics, and it would be her cleaning things up because she no longer trusted her ex. Ex. Her thoughts jumbled again.
“Delores said they were all invited to attend the reception—well, not the reception exactly, but the food was there and…” Her mom trailed off and hid her face in her cup.
Was there additional mortification to heap on a person? Maybe so. Victoria savagely hoped Logan choked on the meal they’d chosen so carefully and decided she no longer cared who returned the gifts. Maybe those attending the “reception” could receive an invitation to his condo to pick them up. He could assign them time frames to avoid overcrowding and make them produce a sales slip to ensure they took the item they’d purchased. But, for her mother, she was pragmatic. “Well, his father insisted on the damn thing being so huge. All-inclusive, I believe he said, like we’d leave out someone important to his view of the world. I suppose there’s no point in wasting all that money.”
The old man had picked up the tab because she couldn’t, and her mother certainly couldn’t, and Logan’s parents insisted. The pseudo-reception would now give everyone a chance to mingle and speculate and gossip about the called-off wedding, and maybe solve the crisis of the fucking environment and the world’s other problems too.
Drawing on the anger, which was a welcome singular emotion to focus on, she drained her cup. “Thanks, Mom. I’m heading back to my place.” And thank God she’d kept her house, despite Logan’s pressuring her to move in with him before the wedding.
She had her job and her own space. No husband, but hey, a person couldn’t have everything. Her mom was giving her that wary look again, so she forced a smile. “Did you want to drop me off and return Frank’s car? Maybe he’s at the reception.”
“Victoria. Stop. Your family won’t have gone there. Nor will your true friends.”
Shame lanced through the anger. Frank wasn’t exactly family, but he was her mom’s kinda significant other, on and off, since her dad left, and she hoped he caught a ride with someone. Maybe one of her sisters.
“Sorry. Of course, they wouldn’t. Too bad, though, what with all the party favors. The kids would have loved them.” She wasn’t tracking so well now but knew getting to the office would help a lot.
“I’ll drive you to your place, though I think a bottle of whiskey and my company would be a better bet.” Her mom’s voice was a little chilly.
“I’d be asleep after two shots, Mom.” Which was likely her mother’s plan, but she couldn’t sleep her life away. She had decades and decades ahead of her, and the next few weeks would be the absolute worst, dealing with both kind and not-so-kind comments. That was why this burgeoning tattered bride advertising project was becoming so important. It would build on her personal tragedy while putting a different spin on it.
The phone buzzed and a familiar number danced across the screen. The desperate lie she’d been weaving unraveled and spots and lines wavered in front of her eyes. She shoved the device toward her mother who clearly debated answering before tapping the answer button.
“I have no idea where my daughter is, Logan. She’s not here and I know she’s not at her house.” Victoria could hear his deep voice, though refused to try and decipher the words. “I’ll let her know
you called.” She pressed the off button and set her lips.
Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. “You used to cover for me with my less reputable friends, Mom. Give me a way out when I couldn’t seem to stand up to them. Thank you for this.”
“I didn’t lie, Tori. I really don’t have any idea where my daughter is. But I hope she finds herself soon. I’ll be here when she needs me.”
Left to ponder that cryptic statement, she followed her mom out to Frank’s car in a pair of gardening clogs, and they drove in silence to her place. She could sense her mom’s … not exactly disapproval, maybe disappointed acceptance, but she couldn’t drum up anything to assuage her. If she had to focus on the enormity of what had happened as if it had actually happened to her personally, Victoria figured she’d probably fade into nothing. Better she created a fantasy and distanced it. Like you told everyone your dad had joined the space program and couldn’t live at home. And then surpassed yourself in your studies to graduate ahead of everyone else, the better to avoid them.
She shoved that memory away, along with the little voice. She’d been a kid, pretending her life was normal and would get back on track. She wasn’t going to lie to herself this time, merely twist the situation, and hey, make it work for her. As an adult, she had the power.
Big sister Juliana, and Victoria’s nephew and niece were crouched alongside the flower bed skirting her tiny cottage, ostensibly pulling weeds. Her sister levered to her feet and rushed the car, pulling Victoria into a tight hug as she emerged. She’d taken off her matron-of-honor dress at some point and changed into jeans and a t-shirt.
“What an asshole.”
“Maybe I called it off.” She hugged her sister tight and refused to cry.
“As if.” Juliana leaned back and looked up into Victoria’s eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No. Logan decided he didn’t want to get married.” A slight variation, but still practice. It still fucking hurt. She had to make it so it would feel as though it had happened to someone else. Desensitizing, she thought it was called, itching to get to the office.
“Why not?”
“She has no idea and isn’t inclined to find out. She thinks she’s figured out the reason on her own.” Their mom updated Juliana and cuddled Mikey and Sabrina close when they milled around Victoria’s legs. “Where’s Paige and the kids?”
“Had to go home. Too much excitement. You know how Murphy gets without a nap. Robert and Michael decided to stay out of the line of fire, and went golfing in their suits. Straight to the course. It was that or they were going to hunt Logan down and have it out with him.”
Victoria blessed the fact she had such a wonderful family. Her brothers-in-law would indeed chase Logan down at a word from her but would defer to the first line of defence—her mom and sisters. She loved her nieces and nephews too, and seeing as she’d never have any of her own—
The truth smacked her in the face. There would never be anyone else in her life. Not only because she’d never trust another man, but because her heart belonged forever to one Logan Doherty. Never mind he’d ripped it from her chest to crumple and shred it. A faint sound escaped her and Juliana stepped in for another hug, this time patting Victoria’s back in one of those soothing motions she used on her kids when they were struggling or thwarted.
“It’ll be okay, Tori. It will.”
Mikey and Sabrina were staring at them, and her niece’s bottom lip was trembling. Oh, no. No. Logan wasn’t going to impact her family any further. He was not. Victoria stood tall once again, gently disengaging from Juliana. It would be okay. It had to be. She focused on Sabrina.
“Hey, Sunshine.”
The little girl hesitantly moved toward her. She still wore her bridal party dress, now stained with dirt and grass.
“Did you pull out all of Auntie’s nasty weeds?”
“Where’s your princess dress? And your crown?” The child’s eyes were huge.
Victoria’s hand lifted involuntarily to where her pseudo tiara had secured her veil. She supposed it was in the gutter too, and that brought tears to her eyes. She’d loved that tiara, having chosen it with her nieces’ help. “Sorry, Sabrina. I’m not going to be a princess after all.”
“But, Auntie! Logan’s your prince! I like him.”
“The prince forgot the shoe, Sabby. I can’t become a princess without a glass slipper.” She stuck her foot out to display the pink clog.
“Huh.” Her sweet niece puffed up with outrage as predicted, her anxiety displaced. “I liked the paper-bagged princess better anyhow.”
Juliana gave a startled snort of laughter at the reference to the childhood book, and Victoria heard their mom gasp. Out of the mouths of babes, etcetera. Victoria should have identified with that gem or something, but instead, she fought against crushing sadness. With an effort, she smoothed Sabrina’s hair, her hand trembling. “Right. Me too.”
“Here’s your purse. Your keys and phone are inside. I thought you’d need them.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Logan has lit your phone up. And a ton of others. I didn’t answer, just silenced the thing. Kaitlyn and Theresa send their love and want to take you out to get smashed.”
Her best friends were her sisters, but Kate and Theresa were good people. She simply couldn’t deal with their way of addressing tragedy. “I’ll call them later.”
“We brought your car back too.” Juliana gestured behind the house.
“Thank you. I’ll need it. I’m going into work.” Her ability to think clearly had no doubt been compromised, but she needed the distraction—badly.
“I figured you might. That’s what I told the guys and Paige. Moving on, right?” At Victoria’s shrug, she continued, “You come by tonight and we’ll talk. Paige will be there. Mom, you come too. We need to give Tori a little time before an intervention.”
“It seems my role’s been usurped.” Their mother’s tone was wry but also full of acceptance. “If that’s what will help…”
Kissing her sister and mother on the cheek, Victoria ruffled the kids’ hair and hurried into her place, the house key cooperating despite her icy fingers. She left her purse on the table and rushed to the bedroom, tearing off the borrowed clothes as she went. After fumbling into a bra, she chose a pair of tight jeans and a casual shirt and then stepped into a pair of flats.
A lick of makeup very nearly hid her pallor and empty eyes, and she added some colorful earrings to brighten her look. She checked her phone and the number of calls and texts were staggering. Her bridesmaids had called, and Jon, as he’d said. A few others were numbers she didn’t recognize, but a vast amount were from Logan.
Grabbing a jacket, she snagged her purse, worried she was working against a deadline. Logan now clearly had thought of something to say—an explanation—but she wasn’t listening. There was nothing he could say. She’d meant what she’d said. Never. Again. In fact, she’d stop on the way to the office and get a new number and a new phone for good measure.
When she arrived at her place of work, clutching her new smartphone in a stupidly pink case in one hand and a tray of lattes in another, Jon was pacing. He rushed to relieve her of her burden, carefully setting the coffees down before wrapping her up in a hug. She was going to break into pieces if people kept this up.
“How are you?”
“If you quit asking me, I’ll let you have one of the lattes.”
“Oh. Right. I’ll stop.” He peered into her face, his blue eyes nearly as dark as her own, and with thicker lashes. Jon was too pretty for a man, but it suited him, and he played it up with an exquisite taste in clothing and expensive haircuts.
“I’m bursting with ideas. You ready?”
“As ever. Though I should tell you Logan called.” He held up a hand at her start. “I didn’t tell him you were coming. Just that you weren’t here. What could he possibly want? He didn’t get a chance to jilt you thoroughly enough?”
“Jilt?” Victoria hadn’t hear
d that word—in ever. She didn’t think.
“You know. Rejected. Abandoned. Spurned.”
Each word arrowed straight through her spurious defense and she grabbed for a latte to hide behind. “I like spurned the best. Spurned.” If she said it three times fast it didn’t sting.
“What?”
“As the title of our spread. ‘Spurned: The Tattered Bride’. Jilted doesn’t have the same effect. It sounds more like a jousting tournament or something.” And listen to her, being all lighthearted and funny.
“If you’re sure, Tori.”
Was she? Did she have a choice? “Lemons and lemonade, Jon. I appear to have a shitload.”
“There’s no chance he’s rethought it? Wants you back?”
“And I should take him back, if that were even possible? Trust a man who might as well have slayed me?” It should have sounded terribly dramatic, but it rang so truthful Jon’s face fell.
“No. Trust is the basis for any relationship, sweetie. I just thought…”
“I know. Everybody hopes for that happily ever after.” Except for her and the paper-bagged princess. Who had the healthier attitude?
“Well, if you’re here to work, let’s have at it.”
****
“She’s out there, but I have no idea where.” Logan fought the urge not to hurl his phone at the wall of windows gracing his large corner unit. “And she must have a new number. I can’t even get her voicemail anymore.”
“She wouldn’t give you a chance to explain?”
“What was I supposed to tell her, Mom? He has me over a barrel. Until I can figure a way around his machinations, I’m stuck. When he showed up at the church and dropped the bombshell, I knew he’d go through with it, that everything was in place and nothing I could do would stop it unless I called off the wedding right then and there. He flashed his phone, all ready to send that text.”
And it went without saying that as the absolute pinnacle of humiliation for the woman Sean Doherty didn’t want his son to marry, the old man couldn’t have timed it better. The bastard had slipped into his seat just as Victoria came up the aisle, looking so beautiful and hopeful that the dichotomy of the situation ripped something deep inside Logan. And for once in his life, he’d been immobilized until the warmth of her hand in his spurred him into action. The only private place had been that little room, and trying to find the words…
A Far Cry from Home Page 11
