“I did know his travel details,” she answers slowly, resting her palms on her thighs.
“So you wanted me to run into him, because . . .” I lose the thread there. Why would she want us to cross paths?
She stares at me, head tipped to one side, her eyebrows raised as she waits for me to come to some sort of conclusion. “Why would I want―”
I clap my hands together and point at her. “Because you’re still in love with Ryan!”
“Carmella.”
“You are. There’s no way six years together, plus the first three years of friendship—that’s nine years—would just get thrown out because you were fighting a little.” I shake my head when she starts to get up. “No, sit down, listen. You freaked out. You’ve done it before, just not to this extreme. But you know I like to do whatever it takes to fix things, to make the people I love happy. So you figured, if I ran into Ryan, I would be compelled to tell him about your wedding.”
She stands up, despite my hand waves. “Hold on.”
“And if Ryan knew about your wedding, he’d have no choice but to―”
“Stop.” She flattens one hand over my mouth, and her expression shifts between consternation and amusement. “This isn’t a fairy tale. Ryan isn’t a knight in shining armor, ready to ride in and rescue me from some evil sorcerer.”
I grab her wrist and pull her hand away. “But―”
She shakes her head, chuckling a little. “Nelson’s not holding me prisoner. Ryan doesn’t need to come save me from anything.” She leans in. “Honey, I’m happy. Really. I want this.”
“Why?” I step back. “It’s like you ran away from your life. A great life, by the way.”
“I was tired of competing.” She wanders back to the balcony, pulling the sliding door open and stepping into the ocean breeze.
As she leans against the railing, I follow her, bracing myself against the edge of the open door. “Sadie, come on. You’re gorgeous and sweet, and Ryan adores you. What could a woman like you ever need to compete against?”
“He didn’t tell you why we were fighting?” She glances over her shoulder.
I join her on the balcony. “Well, he mentioned you not being happy at your job. And some differing views on kids.”
She sighs and looks out at the view of the ocean. “That’s all he said? He didn’t tell you the part about his promotion?”
“Didn’t he get it?”
“Oh yeah, they offered it to him.” She wraps both hands around the railing and leans back. The breeze snatches at the shortened ends of her hair and swirls the hem of her sundress. “He turned it down.”
I bolt to her side. “What? He waited three years for that opportunity.”
“I know. When they first started grooming him for it, it was supposed to be a lot more hands-on. But apparently the position was redefined before they offered it to him, because it was an office job, intended to lead into a partnership.” She frowns and eases forward again. The back of her engagement ring clinks on the railing as she taps her fingers against it. “It would’ve been a huge raise. But it’s not what he wanted to do.”
I slide closer and thread my arm through hers. “If he wouldn’t have enjoyed the job, then the money was a non-issue.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t the end of it.” She squeezes the hand I slip around hers. “He wanted to start working on that damn house.”
“He mentioned you wanted to move back into downtown.”
“I did. There’s nothing in our neighborhood, and anything worth doing means heading into the city anyway.” She shrugs. “And yeah, we had different opinions about starting a family. Basically, he wanted to, and I didn’t.”
“But you like kids.”
She glances at me, releasing a short laugh. “I like other people’s kids. But I never wanted any of my own. Ryan never brought it up until after he proposed.” She laughs again, a little brittle. “Getting engaged was probably the biggest mistake we ever made. We should’ve cut our losses and split up instead.”
I pat the back of her shoulder. “Sadie-lady, you loved each other. That’s a perfectly good reason to get engaged.”
“We were competing against each other to see whose goals would win out. That’s no way to live.”
Moving away from her, I rub my palms over my face. “You stopped communicating with each other the right way. That doesn’t mean―”
She shakes her head, holding up one hand to cut me off. “You’re right. We did stop communicating, but it happened way back in college when we decided to start dating. I always knew I would have to fight with Ryan to get what I wanted, because deep down I was never what he wanted.”
“Sadie, that’s ridiculous. I remember when you first got together. You two were bliss personified.”
“For a while, yeah, it did seem like it would work.” She spins around and leans back against the railing, arms folded. Her frown deepens, a hint of regret registering on her face.
A defensive sense of my own hurt starts to surface. Again, a vital part of the breakup equation is being kept from me. Tentatively, I touch one fingertip to her upper arm. “Ryan wasn’t cheating, was he?”
Sadie covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking. It takes a minute to realize that she’s laughing. Next thing I know, she smothers me in a hug.
“Oh, Carmella. I knew I could count on you to help me keep things in perspective.”
“You’d tell me if he was, right? Because that would explain a lot.”
She waves both hands between us. “No, Ryan wasn’t cheating on me. Mr. Marine Corps code of honor? No, that was the problem. If he had cheated, at least I would have had the courage to let it all go a lot sooner. He’s too damn honorable for his own good. And mine, turns out. Maybe that’s part of why I ran, so he’d be free to go after what he really wants. You know?”
I shake my head again. I feel like one of those bobble-head dolls people glue to their dashboards. “Ryan never said he wanted to go after something else. Why would he?”
But when I replay last night’s conversation, I wonder if that’s what he was talking about when he said he hadn’t wanted me to notice certain things during my April visit.
Sadie tugs me back into the room and deposits me in the easy chair by the bed. “If he didn’t tell you, then he had a good reason. It’s not my place to say anything.”
I catch her wrist as she straightens. “You, of anybody, have the right to tell me.”
She gazes down at me, her blue eyes filled with a strange understanding. She’s never been the deepest person in the world, at least not that she ever lets most people see. But there’s something in her face, some altruistic sort of peace I’ve never seen before.
“Okay, Sadie, you’re freaking me out a bit.”
“Carmella,” she says, squatting in front of me and taking my hands. “You are my best friend in this whole world. And I need you to understand. I’m not having a mental breakdown. I’m not being brainwashed. I love it here. I love Nelson.” Her smile breaks, color coming into her cheeks. “Yeah, it did happen really fast. But he’s a wonderful man. You’ll see. He’s smart, he’s generous. He already has two kids from his first marriage, and they’re great. They want to be friends with me, and I’m okay with that.”
I start to interject, but she stops me.
“Enough about Ryan and me. Enough about Ryan altogether. I want you to have a good time this week.” She drops onto her knees and gathers my hands under her chin. “Please, Carmella. I need you to try and understand.”
I don’t. I probably never will. But she stares up at me, pleading, now pushing out her lower lip in that old pout. She does it whether she’s asking for something serious or not, but her lost puppy-dog face gets me every time.
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Okay, I’ll
try.”
Sadie squeals and launches another hug at me. “Wonderful! It’ll be amazing, Carmella, you’ll see.” She scrambles to her feet, leaves a smacking kiss on my cheek, and dances to the door. “Take a shower and get changed. I’ll come get you in an hour to go down to dinner.”
The door slams behind her, and the air in my room settles, only the echo of ocean waves breaking the silence. I slump back in the chair, hands limp over the armrests, and groan.
Chapter 10
The Best Man
The pool deck gleams with artificial light, and the symphony of tree frogs and crickets replaces that of tropical birds. The balmy ocean breeze is cooler now, and the only thing between me and relaxation is the group gathered around a long table under the pavilion at the end of the terrace.
Sadie tugs me forward, but senses my nerves and signals a waiter. “Chill out, Carmella.” She presses a glass into my hand.
I look down at the pink beverage, the smell of rum wafting from it. Strawberry daiquiri. “I don’t usually―”
“You’re on vacation.” She shrugs. She doesn’t have a matching glass in her hand. “Come on, let’s meet everybody.”
Chairs scrape at our approach, and Nelson gestures to two empty seats near the head of the table. Sadie sinks gracefully into the chair nearest her fiancé, and I take the other, along with a hearty sip of my daiquiri for fortification. Still standing, Nelson plunges into the whirlwind introductions, including Sadie’s mom.
Of course, I already know her. Linda Berkley-Miller, a somewhat blowzy woman with a lingering affection for big hair who’s still clinging to her beauty queen days, hasn’t changed in ten years. She wriggles her fingers at me, showing off the rhinestones on her acrylic nail tips. My smile tight, I return the wave.
Nelson’s mother, on the other hand, has a classic elegance about her that I can only attribute to being the wife of a rich businessman, namely the older version of Nelson at her side. Her dark hair is swept into a bun on the back of her head, and no wrinkles dare to mar her linen dress. Her smile has a genuine quality I’ve always thought was lacking in Linda Miller’s smile. I realize Sadie’s trying to emulate her future mother-in-law’s poise. No wonder she seems so composed and Zen over breaking up with Ryan.
It must be a cover for how emotional she is inside.
The round of introductions continues, but my attention skids to a halt when Nelson indicates the man sitting beside me.
“And this is my brother, Joshua.”
Oh, great. The best man. The one Sadie’s thinks I’ll hook up with at the wedding. He smirks at me, and when I tentatively offer my hand, he deposits a creepy kiss on my fingers instead of the awkward handshake I expect.
“Sweet as Carmella,” he jokes in a voice only loud enough for me to hear.
Do people really talk like this? If he was a bad-looking guy, I could ignore him and almost forgive him. But he’s kind of handsome. Sun-bleached blond hair, the same dark blue eyes as Nelson. The shape of his jaw bears a resemblance to his brother’s as well. But he’s younger. A lot younger, in fact. Maybe thirty or thirty-one, a year or two older than Sadie and me at most.
“It’s just Carmella. Nice to meet you, Joshua.” I clear my throat and take a sip of water.
“It’s just Josh, then.” He grins, revealing perfect, straight white teeth.
Across the table, Mrs. Mattingly—I’ve already forgotten her first name—catches my attention. “Sadie tells us you’re a pastry chef in Savannah, Georgia.”
My face fills with heat. Glancing at Sadie, who gives an innocent shrug, I nod. “Well, sort of. A friend of mine from college started a bakery a few years ago, and I guess I’m her right hand woman.” My brain feels a little addled, the pavilion a little less than stable. Probably the rum. “She has a great reputation, though. Caters for some high end clients.”
“Carmella’s being modest,” Sadie interjects. “She’s got her own repertoire that puts most professionals to shame.”
That probably wasn’t intended as a dig on Tess’s abilities. But before I can counteract the insinuation, Nelson says, “Sadie, love, maybe when you and Carmella go to the final cake tasting, the head pastry chef can give her some ideas, let her look around a bit.”
My jaw drops. “Oh, that’s . . .”
Then I stop. Whether or not I ever intend to open my own bakery, I’ll be working at Tess to Impress for the near future, and probably most of the distant future. To explore the kitchen of a five-star pastry chef is beyond all my expectations. Tess would jump at the chance. I owe it to her to scout things out.
“That would be amazing, actually. Thank you, Nelson.”
He waves off my gratitude and leans close to Sadie, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. With a sigh, I turn my attention to the salad a waiter has just placed before me. Given how much of my daiquiri I’ve slurped down, if I don’t put some food in my stomach, things are not going to be pretty.
Around the table, people pair off in quiet conversation, and to my horror, Nelson’s brother slowly inches his chair toward mine.
“So you bake.” Josh rests his chiseled chin in one hand. “Suppose you might give me a few tips before the week’s out?”
He manages to ask this just as I shove half a buttered roll into my mouth. I stare at him for a minute while I chew. The roll slides down as one hard lump when I swallow. “You’re interested in baking?”
My incredulity brings a smile to his face, one that’s both amused and openly seductive. The pointers he’s interested in have nothing to do with sugar and eggs.
“I might be persuaded to cultivate an interest.”
If he keeps up the innuendos, I might be persuaded to throw my salad in his lap.
“So what do you do?” I ask instead.
His features relax. He leans back, no longer on the prowl. “I’m what you’d call in business reconnaissance. Nelson’s taken on the helm of the family operation since our father retired.” He lazily gestures across the table. “So now I have to fill Nelson’s shoes. Travel around, meet with CEOs of businesses in trouble, scout on mergers and acquisitions. Sometimes just look for good investments.”
“Sort of like a headhunter, but with companies.”
Now that he’s not oozing charm in my face, listening to him is a little interesting. The accent helps. Though not as definitively British as Nelson’s, the cadence underlies everything he says. I can’t figure out what else I hear in his voice.
Josh grabs his wine glass. “I suppose you could look at it that way. But not so ruthless. Most of the time, we’re looking to save companies, make them stronger. Find ways to make the existing infrastructure work.”
This reminds me of the conversation Ryan and I had over dinner the other night, about urban planning in areas with historic significance. Josh is sort of talking about the same thing, about finding ways to preserve the integrity of something. My cheeks flush again, my thoughts drifting beyond our dinner conversation to the things we talked about on the beach.
The way Ryan acted on the beach.
Josh’s grin takes on a lopsided, mischievous cant, like he can read my mind. Skin crawling a little, I shove the other half of my roll into my mouth and try to come up with a better topic of conversation. One that won’t remind me of Ryan and the mess that brought me here in the first place.
Sadie catches my attention, saving me from the awkwardness. “Carmella, I forgot to tell you. The seamstress called. She can’t make it until tomorrow afternoon for the fittings.”
I wash the roll down with a hearty sip of strawberry daiquiri. “Okay.”
“That leaves us some free time tomorrow morning to go exploring in Christiansted.”
My lips stretch. “My kind of exploring, or yours?”
Sadie’s version of exploration i
nvolves shopping, and lots of it. “We could do a little of both.”
Nelson touches her arm, casting an apologetic look my way. “Did you forget, love? We have to meet with the officiant first thing tomorrow, and then it’s brunch with our mums.”
Sadie’s face falls. “I did forget. I guess I was looking forward to hanging out with Carmella.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say quickly. “Christiansted’s smaller than Savannah, I can take a self-guided tour with no problems.” Except the part where I don’t like wandering around strange cities on my own. “Or I could just hang out here, enjoy the beach.”
“Nonsense,” Nelson says. “Sadie told me how much you’ll enjoy sightseeing, and tomorrow’s as good a day as any. We can reschedule with the officiant, and we have brunch with our mums every day.”
Great. Now I’m making them rearrange their plans to accommodate me. “No, really, it’s no big deal. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I nearly roll my eyes when Josh speaks, but restrain myself. While I don’t exactly want to venture out on my own tomorrow, the very last thing I want to do is venture out with Josh Mattingly.
I turn to him with a tight, close-lipped smile. “Really, that’s okay. You’d probably be bored out of your skull.”
Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) Page 8
