by Maggie Way
She shivered in the cold. “I know. It’s okay.”
She didn’t say another word. She didn’t ask him why, or what she could do to help. She didn’t try to soothe or placate him. She just sat beside him in the snow, tolerating his death grip around her fingers, until he slowly came back to himself.
He hadn’t had a flashback in weeks, and he’d let himself believe he was over it. Or moving past it, or… whatever.
Shit.
He wasn’t over it. Not even close.
He’d clawed and scratched his way to the top of the mountain, leaving blood and guts and all sense of self to rot on the cold, hard ground, only to realize he’d simply scaled the first foothill. An entire mountain range lay beyond.
After this, she probably wouldn’t want to marry him.
It was for the best, he supposed. He should be relieved. He’d let himself get a little cocky, thinking he could build a life with her without the taint.
Even now, he could feel her heart reaching out to him, trying to wrap itself around him, and he was tempted, so goddamned tempted, to let it happen. To just love her.
But if he did, he’d be one step closer to turning into his father.
No, it was a good thing she’d caught a glimpse of the real him. So she could leave him.
Once he let go of her hand.
He was avoiding her.
Three days had passed since she found him on his knees in the snow, a thousand-yard stare in his stricken eyes. Three days since she had sat beside him, wishing she might somehow pick the scattered pieces of him out of the snow and hold them in her hands. Holding him together.
Three days since she had last laid eyes on him.
In her pajamas, Emily sat at the kitchen island and tried to focus on the brochure she was creating for the inn. As the hour approached midnight, hope he’d come to her when his shift ended began to fade.
A vise squeezed her heart with the misery of knowing no way to ease his pain.
At the back door, a noise sounded and she sucked in a sharp breath of hopeful expectation.
Until Noah appeared. “Hey, Em.”
At the refrigerator, he yanked open the door and disappeared behind it. His head popped out. “Is there any of that lasagna Luke made the other night?”
She noticed then the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth. He looked tired. Drained.
“It’s in the back behind the m-milk. I was hiding it.”
He rummaged around for a moment.
“Aha.” He kicked the refrigerator door closed with the heel of his foot, a Pyrex dish in hand. “Mind if I steal a couple of pieces?”
She waved her hand. “Have it all.”
The lines smoothed. “Thanks, I owe you one.”
He turned to leave, and she bolted to her feet. “Can I ask y-you something?”
He twisted back around. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Have you, uh, talked to Luke in the last couple of days?”
His brows slammed into a frown. “No. Why? Is something wrong?”
Disappointment slashed through her. “No, nothing’s wrong…”
Just then, his head turned toward more rustling at the back door.
“Did you find it?” Emily recognized Mina’s voice.
Noah lifted the dish in his hands. “Got it. I was just talking to Emily.”
Mina appeared in the doorway. “Oh, hey, Em. He didn’t wake up you, did he?”
Emily startled at her cousin’s appearance. There was a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her face appeared sunken and pale.
Emily shook her head. “I was still up.”
Mina ran a hand through her tousled hair. She and Noah shared a long look, one that carried an entire conversation and ended when Noah gave a small tilt of his head in Emily’s direction.
Mina took a tiny step into the room. “You have a minute?”
Denials screamed in Emily’s mind, much like the way they did whenever her mom’s doctors had approached her with an update on Audrey’s condition. She didn’t know what Mina had to say, but she knew she didn’t want to hear the words.
She swallowed with difficulty and found her voice. “Sure.”
A long, shuddering breath rattled through Mina. “I miscarried.”
“Oh, shit.” Emily clamped both hands over her mouth and shot off her barstool. “Mina, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
She winced at the stupid question. Her cousin had just lost her baby. How could she be okay? Emily pressed a fist to her abdomen and sank back onto the stool.
“I’m okay,” Mina said, though the devastation was there to see on both their faces.
Noah pulled her in to his side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
She sagged against him. “In a little bit, I think we’ll try again.”
“Trying is my favorite.” Noah’s lips moved against her hair.
Heat washed over Emily’s face and neck at the intimate display, so unguarded and tender. She had to look away.
A soft light came into Mina’s eyes. “But I hear you might have some good news for us?”
Emily cringed inwardly. “Oh, yeah, I w-was going to tell you…” She swallowed the lame words.
“Is this what you want?” Mina prodded gently.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Very much so.”
Both Noah and Mina visibly relaxed.
“We’ll be in-laws twice over.” Noah smiled, and for a moment, he looked so like Luke, Emily stared. “That bond will be nearly unbreakable. Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”
Her heart cracked open with his words. By marrying Luke, she’d be gaining four brothers. For an orphaned only child, it was a heady proposition, and just one of the many gifts Luke had given her.
“Have you settled on a date?” Mina eased further into the room.
Emily shifted on the stool. “Uh, in a few weeks, actually. The weekend before Christmas.”
To her credit, Mina hid her shock well. “That’s so soon.”
Emily couldn’t tell them she was pregnant. With their grief so palpable and raw, the words simply refused to come.
“We didn’t want to w-wait.” The half-truth tasted sour in her mouth and she pursed her lips closed.
Noah’s astute gaze searched her face. “Ah, new love. Fun, isn’t it?”
Luke could feel her watching him.
Six hours removed from a grueling eighteen-hour shift, which concluded only when they’d pulled the body of a seventeen-year-old kid from the icy waters of Lake Michigan, he struggled to banish the image of the kid’s colorless face, devoid of life, from his mind. When he’d touched the stiff, cold body, the deadness had seeped under his skin and was now spreading through him.
He looked at Emily across the dining table while he chewed his tasteless dinner. She was so sweet and pretty and… alive. If he could just catch a glimpse of her smile, maybe he’d be able to shake off the shadows.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course,” he lied. “Just tired.”
She’d experienced enough death and despair for one lifetime. He wouldn’t add to it by sharing the details of his job, or his dark thoughts. Not for anything.
He swallowed the last bite of his flavorless casserole. “Do you want to get married at the church or City Hall?”
She laid down her fork. “I’m not Catholic.”
“No problem.” He flashed a quick smile. “Neither is Father John.”
“Really?”
“Really. He used to be a priest, but resigned years ago. If you ask him about it, he’ll tell more than you could ever want to know.”
“So it’s not a Catholic church? Is that why the sign changed?”
“It’d been a struggling congregation for years, and largely seasonal with the population dropping by nearly half every winter. The diocese finally pulled out last year. When the church went up for sale, John bought it and now holds non-denominational services.”
“It’s such a lovely place, and my mom’s
there…”
His heart spasmed. “The church it is then.” He stood.
She sat forward. “I w-wondered if w-we could talk for a minute.”
Though she hadn’t eaten the last of her casserole, he swiped her plate out from under her and carried it along with his to the kitchen.
He knew what she wanted to talk about. She needed him to assure her he was all right, and he wanted to be able to say the words that’d alleviate her worry. But the numbness wouldn’t let him. Not in that moment. So he slammed the mask into place. She’d be happier not knowing what lay beneath the charm.
At the sink, he flipped on the faucet. “Tell you what,” he said over the running water. “I’ll book the church if you handle everything else. You have a talent and I wouldn’t dare to interfere with such artistry.”
A blush of pleasure touched her cheeks. “Is there anyone you’d like to invite?”
“I already told my brothers.” He turned off the spray of water. “How about you?”
She shook her head.
“No one?” He saw no sadness on her face, which gutted him. “Who would you invite if you knew they could come?”
“Well, there w-was a friend from college, but…”
“Who?”
“My roommate.” Her smile flirted with forming.
“You should invite her.”
“W-we haven’t talked in years, and it’s such short notice.”
“So you won’t be disappointed if she can’t make it.” He cut off her protest. “Invite her. People love to be invited to parties, even if they can’t attend. It makes them feel good, and besides, you have nothing to lose.”
She pondered that a moment. “Okay. I’ll invite her.” Then her dark, serious eyes clamped on his face. “But I didn’t want to talk about the wedding.”
He shoved to his feet and crossed to the stereo. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked as he fiddled with the controls.
“The other day—”
A song kicked on over the speakers and drowned out her next words. He treated her to his finest, most charming smile.
Her slender brow remained furrowed.
Damn. So he abandoned the charm offensive. Hell, it wasn’t as if it’d ever worked on her anyway. Only when he wasn’t trying did he ever breach her defenses.
He began to move his shoulders in time to the beat and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.”
Her sudden smile knocked him back. “Why?”
Soon, his hips were involved. “Come here, Emily.”
A giggle escaped her as he sidled close. “I want to talk first.”
“You don’t like talking.” He lifted her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.
A shiver passed through her. “Luke—”
“One dance.” He pulled her to her feet. “Then we’ll talk.”
“But—”
“I can’t believe I have to say this to you.” He tugged on her hand and she fell against him. “Emily, shut up and dance with me.”
He eased her body tight against his and she melted into him. The fragrant scent of her hair teased his senses and he bent his head to inhale deeply of her.
They began to move. Her softness drew him in and her warmth soothed the aching in his bones. That time, when he felt the lure of her heart, he was too weary to resist her.
When the song ended and the music changed, she tried to pull away, but he grasped her hand and whirled her under his arm.
Her light, lyrical laughter rang out, the sound like the sun breaking over the horizon. He didn’t stop until she was breathless from laughing. Then he dipped her low, cradling her in his arm, and stole a taste of her over-plump mouth. When he broke the kiss, a contented smile glowed from her small face.
And she’d forgotten all about asking her silly little questions.
Chapter Twenty-One
The bell over the door chimed when Emily stepped into the boutique on Main Street.
A voice called out a greeting, and then Isobel’s head popped out from behind a rack of winter coats.
“Emily, hi.” She lurched forward with an armful of wool. “Luke told me the news. I’m so happy for you both.”
Emily found herself engulfed in wool and Isobel’s flowery scent. “Thank you. Actually, I’m h-h-here t-to look for a dress.”
“Wonderful.” Isobel heaved her armload onto the front counter. “The bridal boutique is next door.”
Emily remained planted to her spot. “I don’t w-want to shop over there, if that’s all right? It’s going to be a small ceremony and I’d like to w-wear something… simple.”
“Oh, okay.” Isobel frowned. “Our dress stock is a little low right now. Do you have a color in mind?”
Emily bit down hard on her lip and shook her head. “Whatever you have.”
Isobel blinked at her. “You’re not like our other brides.”
Emily didn’t doubt that for a second. Her wedding, hastily thrown together in a couple of weeks, probably wasn’t like most of their other brides’ weddings either.
Including the fact she rarely saw the groom. That, of course, wasn’t Luke’s fault. He’d worked long hours all week, leaving the house before she woke up and not returning until she was already asleep at night.
He wasn’t completely absent from her life, however. Each morning, he made her an elaborate breakfast to eat when she woke, and throughout the day, he bombarded her with text messages, asking her how she was feeling, how she had slept, if she had eaten, was hungry, had a craving, if she needed anything, anything at all?
Once more, she’d tried talking to him about what had happened that day in the snow. In answer, he’d taken her to bed, and she went because the vulnerability swirling behind his eyes wouldn’t let her refuse him.
Isobel pointed to a corner of the store. “Our dresses are in the back. Would you like some help?”
“I think I’ll just look around.”
Isobel turned to her pile of coats. “Let me know if need anything.”
Emily browsed the dress racks for a few minutes, but quickly grew discouraged as most of the them came only in black or similarly dark colors. Exactly two dresses belonged on the white-to-ivory spectrum. She tried them both on, but the first dress wouldn’t fit over her hips and her smaller breasts couldn’t support the strapless style of the second one.
She dug up a midnight blue dress she thought might complement her coloring, but again, the clingy fabric pulled tight across her hips and abdomen. Though her belly hadn’t begun to round, she’d swear her hips had widened. That, or she’d simply gained weight, which she could probably blame on Luke’s genius for pasta dishes and sweet treats.
Back at the racks, discouragement turned to frustration. A sharp longing wrenched her heart. She wanted her mom.
Audrey had a knack for finding styles that complemented Emily’s shape and unique coloring. More than that, Audrey had a way of melting Emily’s doubts and insecurities, often keeping Emily chatting and laughing so that there just wasn’t time for her to focus on her shortcomings.
Much like it was when she was with Luke.
Gazing into the mirror at the too-tight dress that made her skin appear sallow, Emily’s vision blurred. What was she doing? She was fat, and pregnant, and so damned lonely that she’d agreed to marry a man who quite possible only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant.
Isobel peeked around the corner “How’s it going?” She took one look at Emily’s face and abandoned her armful of clothing. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Words piled in Emily’s throat.
Isobel dug in her pocket, and then thrust a rumpled tissue at Emily. “Best thing about having two little kids—I come prepared. It’s clean, I promise.”
Emily took the tissue and wiped her nose.
“Wedding dress shopping is emotional.” Isobel motioned her to a plush bench in the fitting room. “Is there anyone you can bring along to help you?”
Emily had thought a
bout asking Mina to come with her, but with everything her cousin was going through, and the fact Emily still hadn’t found the words to tell Mina she was pregnant, it didn’t feel right.
Not to mention, the one person Emily really wanted with her was dead.
Tears pushed to the surface. “M-my m-mom is gone.”
Isobel dug out another Kleenex and plopped onto the bench next to Emily. “This isn’t right. We can’t both cry.”
A watery laugh escaped Emily.
“I lost my mom when I was sixteen.” Isobel wiped at the corners of her eyes with the tissue. “That’s probably why I jumped into a marriage.”
“W-with Shea?”
A hard swallow worked Isobel’s throat and she nodded. “We got married the day I turned eighteen.”
Emily thought back to her eighteen-year-old self, before college and her mom’s illness. “So young.”
“And so naïve.” A weighty sigh rattled through her. “It didn’t help I was pregnant. Nothing like an unplanned pregnancy to put a strain on a new relationship.”
The blood left Emily’s head.
Abruptly, Isobel twisted on the bench. “I have a dress I want you to look at. It’s a wedding dress, but it’s ivory, not white, and it’s in stock. I think it would fit you nicely. Want to try it?”
Still reeling from Isobel’s confession, Emily could do little more than nod.
Isobel returned with an armful of deep ivory lace and tulle, which she hung on a hook in Emily’s dressing room.
“It comes in two pieces,” she said while removing the gown from the hanger. “You can wear the dress alone or with the tulle skirt overlay. Why don’t we start with just the dress and see what you think?”
In the dressing room, Emily shucked the ugly blue dress and stepped into the lace-embroidered, long-sleeved jacket dress Isobel handed her. The gown ended mid-thigh, and when she fastened the row of satin-covered buttons running up the middle, she was relieved to discover the dress fit her waist snuggly but also draped nicely around her hips.
She turned to face the mirror. The gown’s warm ivory color deepened her skin tone and picked out the gold strands in her hair. Her dark eyes shimmered, and for just a moment, she almost looked like a woman a man like Luke might marry.
