Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  Somewhere amid all of that, Gretchen’s embarrassment and anger melted away. She had spent twenty-three years hating everything about her name, and in one fell swoop John had almost entirely taken that away. Looking at her name as something unique that told people who she was in just one word had never occurred to her before. Her name had always been something to avoid talking about. John made it sound like a badge of honor. How did he do that?

  Slowly, a bit of a smile turned up the corners of Gretchen’s mouth. “Maybe it’s not that bad,” she said.

  Smiling triumphantly, John took her hand and kissed her fingers. He didn’t ask if her admission made it okay for him to call her Gigi, and Gretchen didn’t offer him any kind of answer. The idea that her name wasn't the worst thing in her life would take a little getting used to. Gretchen thought John understood that from her silence. At least, he didn’t press the point. They left it there, him getting up to load the dishwasher and her leaving to go take a shower.

  An hour later, Gretchen emerged from her room dressed, refreshed, and excited to spend the rest of the morning with her parents. That only lasted until she took two steps out of her room and ran into her mom, who was looking very determined for some reason. Gretchen knew that look. She had something on her mind and she wasn't going to let her daughter out of her sight until she told Gretchen exactly what it was.

  “Gretchen, dear, come outside with me for a minute, your begonias look like they have bugs,” her mom said.

  It was a weak excuse, Gretchen’s mom left the landscaping and yard work to her husband or the kid who lived down the street from them, but Gretchen forced herself to smile, and said, “Sure, Mom.”

  They walked out to the front yard and stood looking at of a bed of flowers that had been planted by the previous owners. Gretchen wasn’t sure whether or not there were any begonias in the planter. Aside from watering them every so often, she didn’t pay much attention to them. Her mom, however, was pretending to inspect the plants, from a distance, of course.

  Giving her time to collect her thoughts, Gretchen glanced over toward Carl’s house without thinking. She started when she saw him walking to his truck. He was looking over at her as well, stopping when their eyes met. She expected him to head toward her, his ever-present grin leading the way, but instead he just gave a quick wave and kept walking.

  Carl had never just walked by her before. Never. Carl did not give up a chance to try and steal a hug. The way his head hung and he avoided looking at her crushed Gretchen. She had the worst desire to run over and try to explain, but what was she going to say? She had already told him so many times. There wasn’t anything left to say. Maybe this was best.

  Watching him drive away, Gretchen couldn’t believe that.

  “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about,” her mom said suddenly.

  Turning back to her, Gretchen frowned. “What?”

  “Carl, he’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Gretchen didn’t want to do this with her. “Mom, we’ve already talked about this. Carl and I have talked about this. I’ve even talked to John about this. Well, kind of. But the point is, it’s been covered. Carl is just going to have to accept the way things are,” she said.

  “That’s not what I mean,” her mom said. “You told me why you didn’t want to date Carl, and I respect that.”

  “Then what do you mean.” Gretchen was lost. Her mom had spent months trying to talk her into giving Carl a chance. And now she was saying she respected her decision? That hardly made sense to Gretchen, but it probably did to her mom.

  “I wanted to talk to you about why you’re willing to give John the same chance you argued with me about giving Carl for six months,” she said.

  Looking at the path Carl had just taken to slip away, Gretchen’s eyes narrowed at his retreat. “Have you been talking to Carl?” she asked.

  Her mom frowned. “Carl talked about you or his job, not this. I’m asking because I’m concerned, not because someone put words in my mouth.”

  Gretchen knew that tone of voice as well as she knew the look that led her out to the front yard in the first place. She was treading on thin ice. Knowing that only made the fact she didn’t have any more of an answer for her mom than she did for Carl even worse.

  “I’m only asking because I saw what happened to you last time.” Gretchen turned away, not wanting to relive that, but her mom continued. “I couldn’t believe it when you came home after college. I didn’t understand when you told us you weren’t going to walk for graduation, not until you walked through the front door. You looked so different. You’d lost weight. Your hair looked awful. It was obvious that you’d cried the whole way home. I was honestly scared for you then, Gretchen.”

  “But I got over it,” Gretchen said.

  “Only because you had a job to get ready for,” she said. Her mom put her arms around Gretchen’s shoulders and hugged her. “You stayed in bed for two weeks. You wouldn’t even tell me what happened until I finally dragged you out of your room and threatened to kick you out if you didn’t. Even then, you moped around the house, not seeing your friends, not going out, nothing. I was half convinced you weren’t even going to go through with the move and the new job. I thank God to this day you already had the job here lined up before you fell apart. Otherwise, I think you would still be lying on my couch at home.”

  “Mom, you’re being overdramatic. It wasn't that bad,” Gretchen said, looking down so her mom wouldn’t see the lingering pain in her eyes.

  “Yes, it was,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be trying not to cry right now just thinking about it.

  Gretchen sniffed, giving away how right she was. She remembered those long summer days all too well. Having her mom remind her of how she acted and looked shamed Gretchen to no end, but at the time, it was all she could do not to give up on everything. It was easier now, almost a year later, but it still hurt to think about it.

  “I don’t want to see you go through that again. I don’t think either of us could take that,” her mom said.

  “What does this have to do with me choosing John over Carl?” Gretchen asked.

  “You told me why you wouldn’t date Carl, because he was too good of a friend to lose if things didn’t work out between you and him. I’m well aware of the fact that if John ever recovers his memory, it might take him away from you.” Gretchen’s mom turned to face her. Her questioning gaze was filled with an honest concern only a mother could manage. “Carl befriended you when you had no one. He’s helped you and tried his hardest to get you to fall for him over the past year, but you turned him down. John drops into your life and all of the sudden you’re putting yourself out there again. I want to know why now, why John and not Carl.”

  “Either way, I could end up hurt. I’m supposed to love again, aren’t I?” Gretchen asked. “What does it matter that I chose to take the risk with John instead of Carl?”

  “Because,” her mom said, “it’s a lot more likely that John is going to be the one to hurt you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tempting and Stealing

  Standing up to his elbows in mini quiches, John couldn’t help wonder what on earth he had been thinking when he agreed to cater a wedding. It was way too big of a job for just one person. Melanie’s crew of nieces and nephews were the only thing keeping John afloat. Gretchen had wanted to help, but John told her in no uncertain terms that she was not allowed in the kitchen. He didn’t want her to miss her friend’s wedding because of him. She was one of the bridesmaids. John hadn’t wanted her trying to do both.

  “The ceremony just ended,” Clara, one of the nieces, said as she popped her head into the kitchen.

  “Are there salads and bread baskets on every table? Drinks?” John asked.

  “Everything’s set.”

  They were good. Apparently, this wasn't the first time the nieces and nephews of Melanie’s family had been called on to play the part of wait sta
ff at a family event. The oldest was only sixteen, but John wanted to kiss each of them for their help. Clara had been especially helpful, organizing all of her cousins and making sure they did exactly what they were supposed to be doing. They were doing an amazing job.

  “Great,” John said. Mini quiches slid off the baking tray and onto the serving platter with a satisfying whoosh. “Take this last tray out to the appetizer table and gather everyone up and get them back here to the kitchen so we can start plating the entrée.”

  “No problem,” Clara said, bouncing as she turned.

  “Oh, and, Clara,” John said. She paused, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “Thanks for all the help.”

  Beaming at the compliment, Clara bounded down the hall to gather her cousins. John watched her go and sighed as the stack of one hundred plates caught his eye. The work was only beginning. Aching for something to sit on, John pushed ahead and went to grab a stack of plates. Thundering steps rang down the hallway as the nieces and nephews barreled into the kitchen. Clara barked out orders and, in minutes, they were plating fish, chicken, and beef, and carrying it out to the waiting friends and family of Eric and Melanie.

  Twenty minutes later, a gangly boy of fourteen named Zack carried out the last two plates and left John alone in the kitchen. Sinking down to the kitchen counter, his head resting in his hands, John tried to ignore the pain in his leg. The cast had been off for several weeks, but it still ached if he used it for too long. John guessed that was what came from having it broken in three places.

  The soft sound of rented dishware sliding across the table startled John. His head snapped up to find Clara standing in front of him, a plate of steaming pot roast, garlic potatoes, and almond covered green beans on the counter. He looked around, wondering how she had snuck up on him so easily. John could have sworn the room was empty a few seconds ago.

  “Well, don’t just stare at it. Eat!” Clara said happily. “You deserve it.”

  “Thanks, Clara, but I think you and your cousins did most of the work.”

  She smiled and made herself a plate as well. Walking back over to the island counter where John was standing, Clara handed him her plate. John took it, unsure of why she was giving it to him, and then watched her hop onto the counter to sit, looking at him. John handed her back her plate with an amused smile and turned back to his own meal.

  “Mmm,” Clara said, “this is really good, John.”

  “Are you surprised?” John asked, digging into his own meal. It really was good.

  Clara laughed. “Yeah, actually. My mom told me you were like in a coma, or something, and you forgot everything.” John nodded, his mouth full of beef. “I guess I was just surprised someone who forgot everything they used to know could cook so well.”

  Her honesty was amusing. “I was still pretty beat up when I got out of the hospital. I had to stay around the house, which got a little boring, so I decided to learn how to cook,” John said. “I don’t know if I knew how to cook before or not, but I seem to be pretty good at it now.”

  Clara nodded as she took a bite of potatoes. His plate cleared a few minutes later, John pushed it away and turned around to lean against the counter. It wouldn’t be long before empty plates made their way back. At least the others were in charge of dishwashing.

  “How many times have you done this?” John asked Clara.

  “Counting Mel’s wedding, eight.” She set her plate down and rested her hands on the counter, unusually close to John’s. “I’ve done two funerals, three weddings, a baby shower, and two quinceaneras. We’re a pretty festive family, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I never would have guessed,” John said with a chuckle. Leaning more heavily against the counter, he shifted his weight to his good leg and closed his eyes. The ache in his bones was really starting to bother him. Clara shifted next to John, but he didn’t look over at her. He assumed she was getting down until he felt her hands on his shoulders.

  Pulling away quickly, John turned and looked at her. There were a lot of things John couldn’t remember, but he was pretty sure having a sixteen-year-old girl rub his shoulders with no one else around was not socially acceptable. Clara, however, just smiled sweetly in mock innocence.

  “What are you doing?” John asked.

  “You look exhausted. I was just trying to help,” she said. She slid off the counter and stepped to the side of him. John watched her move, hoping she was leaving. Taking another step, she reached up and set her hand on his shoulder again. John turned, grabbing her hand and removing it.

  “Clara.” He wasn't sure how to respond. There was no way he was letting her rub his back, but he didn’t want to offend her and cause a scene at Melanie and Eric’s wedding. It was possible she was just trying to be nice—John didn’t have a whole lot of experience with women—but the way she smiled so calmly and moved so fluidly made him think otherwise.

  John was astounded. She knew he was dating, and living with Gretchen. She knew his whole story. Yet she was still trying to seduce him with his girlfriend in the next room and her entire family in the building as well. She certainly had guts. John had to at least give her that.

  “Why don’t you just relax? It’s been a long day,” Clara said.

  “Did you happen to see Gretchen when you were in the reception hall?” John asked. He was trying to remind Clara of all the people in the next room, but she seemed to take it another way.

  “Yes, she was busy eating and talking with her friends, last I saw her. She’ll probably stay at the table for a good while yet.” Clara stepped in closer, gently trying to tug her hand out of John’s grip.

  “That’s not why I asked,” John said dryly. “You’re a nice girl, but this is really inappropriate. I have a girlfriend. And you’re sixteen. You shouldn’t be doing this. I’m way too old for you.”

  “Oh really? And just how old are you?” she asked coyly.

  “I’m, well…I don’t know how old I am, but I know I’m not sixteen. That’s hardly the point, and you know it,” he said. “I am dating Gretchen.”

  “Oh, come on, John. She saved you and let you live at her house. Don’t you think you should play the field a little more before you settle for the first girl you meet?” Clara touched her hand to John’s chest, leaning closer. He tried to step back but he was already against the counter. “You’re a handsome guy. You’re sweet and funny. You don’t have to settle.”

  Finally letting go of Clara’s hands, John grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. “I didn’t settle for Gretchen. I love her.” The admission surprised Clara. It surprised John a little, too. He hadn’t even told Gretchen he loved her yet. Why did he just admit it to this manipulative girl?

  Clara shook off her surprise. “I think there’s a name for that, it’s called Stockholm syndrome.”

  “That’s only for people held captive,” John said. Wait, how did I know that? John wondered. He still knew what things were and how to use them from his functional memory, but he didn’t remember anything specific about academic topics.

  “Still,” Clara said, interrupting his thoughts, “I think you’re missing out.”

  She moved around the counter, trailing her hand on the surface and swaying her hips seductively. John turned away from her temptation. She was an attractive young woman.

  “It’s not going to happen, Clara. I need to start cleaning up anyway. I promised Gretchen I would dance with her tonight,” he said.

  John turned toward the sink, intent on ignoring Clara, only to find she had circled the counter and was standing next to him again. Sighing, he tried to think of a polite way to get her to leave him alone.

  “Do you really love her?” Clara asked.

  “Yes. Now can we get back to work, please?” he begged. Or just leave and let him be?

  “Do you want to marry her?” Clara asked.

  Her blunt question caught John off guard. Did he want to give up on ever finding who he used to be and give himself over to being John, Gretc
hen’s husband? Did he want to spend the rest of his life with her? The question had surprised him, but the answer didn’t.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Huffing in disappointment, Clara’s sultry movements suddenly stopped and she went back to being the helpful kid she had been most of the evening. “All right, fine,” she said, “let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

  She turned away and starting stacking the pots and pans that needed to be washed next to the sink. John stared at her. It was like a light switch turning on and off. One minute she was a cute kid being extra helpful, the next, a temptress, and then back to an innocent girl. John’s tired mind was still trying to catch up.

  “Wait, that’s it?” John asked. “You’re backing off, just like that?”

  Clara grinned. “You sound disappointed.”

  Shaking his head, he walked over to her. “No, not disappointed, confused.”

  “I have no problem stealing another girl’s boyfriend, but I draw the line at breaking up marriages,” she said.

  “How noble of you,” John said. She was something else.

  “A girl’s got to have some principles.” She turned on the water and stoppered the sink.

  “Gretchen and I aren’t married yet, though,” he said.

  Turning around with a grin, a bit of her flirty nature popping back up, Clara looked at John. “You are disappointed.”

  Flushing slightly, John looked away. Her abrupt change had thrown him a little, but he wasn’t disappointed.

  Clara laughed at his discomfort, and said, “I thought I’d give you a break and let you off easy. You’re obviously pretty serious about Gretchen. I didn’t think you would be, so I tried, but I won’t try to steal you away from her.”