“Don’t bother them.” Harley turned on the garden hose and rinsed her mouth. The last thing they needed to worry about was a sick wedding guest. “I’ve been feeling... I don’t know... Crampy? All morning.”
“I always feel sick when I have my period,” Sam said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Brit said I have to suck it up.”
“Welcome to womanhood.” Harley’s insides contracted and she dry heaved.
“I should get Dad.”
Geez. She was scaring the poor kid. “No.” Harley dragged herself upright. “I just need a bottle of water and some air.”
“Brit says learning to deal with cramps is how women get through childbirth.” Sam made a face. “I’m never going to get pregnant.”
Pregnant.
When was my last period?
Harley flushed with a heat that clogged her brain synapses. She couldn’t remember. “I’m going to walk to the store and get something to settle my stomach.” Because it was unsettled. Actually, unsettled didn’t even come close to covering it.
“Walk? It’s nearly a mile.” Sam’s youthful smile turned wicked. “You have a driver’s license, don’t you? Let’s drive.” She pointed to the tow truck. “Dad’s got our truck up on the lift. I’m sure he won’t mind if we take this beast for a few minutes.” Before Harley could protest, Sam was off and running to get the keys.
Harley followed at a slower pace. She couldn’t be pregnant. The only man she’d been with was Vince and they’d been smart about sex.
Nothing is 100 percent effective.
A baby. She couldn’t kiss Vince into staying through that.
Ten minutes later, Harley parked the tow truck in front of the convenience store a mile south of the Messina garage.
“I’ll be right back,” Harley told Sam, because she wanted to buy a pregnancy test without an audience.
But Sam was already hopping out of the truck, oblivious to the situation.
A wave of nausea hit Harley again.
Nerves.
Breathe and deny. Breathe and deny.
I am not pregnant.
Harley climbed out of the tow truck as if she was eighty.
This was not how her life was supposed to go. She was supposed to be an award-winning architect by age thirty, married, and contemplating slowing down to have kids. If she was pregnant, her time with Vince would be over. And architecture? She could kiss that career goodbye. The high-powered niche that intrigued her required power lunches, networking cocktail hours, schmoozing dinners, not changing diapers.
She struggled to push through the heavy glass door.
“Edna says what you need is on the candy aisle.” Sam leaned on the counter and talked to an older woman, presumably Edna.
Harley waved a greeting and moved slowly toward the candy. Just the thought of chocolate sent a wave of disgust up her throat. Opposite the candy were the antacid tablets. Pain relievers. Cough syrup. Tampons. Adult diapers. Condoms. And one lone pregnancy test kit.
Harley was afraid to pick it up.
Sam was telling Edna all about her bridesmaid dress.
Nausea rose like a helium bubble in Harley’s stomach. Up, up, up. She swallowed it back down, not wanting to be sick in the candy aisle. Not wanting wasn’t enough though, so she grabbed the test kit and raced into the bathroom. She’d figure out how to pay for her purchase later.
The bathroom looked like her grandmother’s. A small white vanity with gold-painted trim. The molded plastic on the cold water handle was cracked. The toilet was running. If the test came out negative, Harley promised to open the tank and adjust the flapper.
The nausea receded. She opened the pregnancy kit.
The test stick was supposed to show results in mere minutes. One line for no. Two lines for yes. Harley completed the test, but couldn’t stand to look at that stick while she waited. She set a paper towel on the vanity and laid the test on top, face down. And then she set the timer on her phone for one minute and paced.
Mom is going to be so disappointed in me.
She’d never be able to show her face in Birmingham again. It was as if being voted most likely to succeed had cursed her.
The timer went off. Harley peeked at the stick.
No blue lines.
She turned it back over and set the timer for another minute.
Bottles. Day care. Baby daddies.
Well, at least she knew who the father was. He’d been adamant he didn’t want kids, so she’d have to come up with a plan to raise the baby on her own.
Stop thinking about it as if it’s a done deal. You have food poisoning from bad airline peanuts.
She wasn’t feeling sick anymore. It was more a numb feeling of terror.
The timer chimed. Harley peeked.
The stick might be too old to work. There was no blue line.
Or maybe I’m not pregnant.
She’d have to figure out how to pay for the test. Her wallet was at the bed-and-breakfast. She only had a five in her pocket. She’d much rather think about being arrested for shoplifting than about being a mommy.
She almost forgot to start the timer again.
Harley leaned against the counter and stared at a frilly cross-stitch hanging on the wall: Family Makes Any Place Home.
Houston felt like home to Harley. In that respect, she and Vince were on the same page. Neither one of them wanted to return to the place of their birth. She needed to take Brit’s advice about cramps and deal with it. The sooner she finished cleaning up her workspace, the sooner she could crash at the B and B. Rest. That’s what she needed. And water. Maybe a little chicken broth. Surely, Reggie could bend the breakfast-only rule and fix her some of that.
The timer went off. Two minutes left.
It was going to be negative. Harley was going to feel better tomorrow. And in a few days, she and Vince would return to Houston and figure out their relationship once and for all.
Negative, negative, negative. If she thought it enough, it’d be true.
All she had to do was look and reset the timer.
Harley picked the stick up and checked her reflection in the mirror instead.
Was that a gray hair? Her eye makeup was smeared and she had no lipstick on. What had happened to the confident woman who’d landed a coveted job at a top-notch boutique architectural firm?
She’d disappeared along with Harley’s ability to problem solve.
The door handle jiggled. “Harley?”
Harley startled. The stick flew out of her hand into the toilet. She shrieked.
Her fate floated facedown in the bowl.
Harley wailed.
“Harley?” Sam jiggled the door handle again. “Edna, come quick. Harley’s sick.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Harley lifted the toilet seat and fished around the toilet with the scrub brush until she got the stick high enough in the bowl that she could grab it. She tossed it into the sink, where it landed facedown.
The home pregnancy test gods must be having a big laugh at her expense.
But Harley planned to have the last guffaw because she wasn’t pregnant. No way. No how. All she needed to do was to flip that stick over to make sure.
“I’m coming.” An older woman’s voice.
“No need. I’m fine.” Harley ran soap and water over her hands and the stick. Only then did she register the results.
Two big bold lines of blue.
She went cold, staring at a piece of plastic the size of a thermometer and thinking there had to be a mistake.
A key inserted in the lock.
Harley fell to her knees and prayed.
To the porcelain god.
* * *
EXACTLY HOW POWERFUL was a pinkie swear nowadays?
Sam had given Harley the finger-locking oath that she w
ouldn’t tell a soul about what happened in the bathroom at the convenience store.
Pregnant. If only it weren’t true.
How was she going to tell Vince? Maybe they could discuss it while driving back to the airport. Yes, that was it. She should drive and he should be safely strapped in beside her, a captive audience for the two-hour trip. Or maybe she should wait until they were on the airplane. Four hours of forced togetherness. He couldn’t run away from this. She’d promise to hunt down specialists and take whatever tests he could think of to prove that this baby would be healthy.
A baby...
Before her trip to the convenience store, Harley’s nausea had been contained to her stomach. Now she felt a sickening sensation from her stomach to her ears. She pushed past it.
Harley was rinsing off the tiling tools with the garden hose when Joe strolled over from the garage.
“All done?” he asked, ducking inside before she could answer.
Was that speculation in his eyes?
Now Harley was just being paranoid. Joe couldn’t know. Except...
Sam was in the nearby parking lot. She walked a white parking-space line as if she were balancing on a high wire.
Harley’s pulse picked up, and not from the fear of Sam falling off the high wire.
Joe returned almost immediately. “That bathroom looks fantastic. Brit is going to love it.”
“Thanks.” Harley assembled a smile for Sam. Wasted, since the kid wouldn’t look at her. “The tools are all here, ready to be returned.” To wherever Gabe had found them. “Or to be used on your master bath. Sorry that Brit had to work while I tiled.”
Joe held himself very still, reminding her of Vince. Except Joe’s eyes darted from his daughter to Harley.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. A new form of discomfort took over Harley’s stomach. Dread.
“Um...” Joe kicked the tiling bucket with his work-booted toe.
“Dad! You are so lame!” Sam gesticulated with her hands.
“So much for pinky swears.” Harley scowled at Benedict Arnold.
“I didn’t tell him what happened in the bathroom.” Sam scowled at her father. “I told him Uncle Vince was going to have a baby.”
Joe touched Harley’s shoulder. “If there’s anything we can do for you...”
“Thank you, but...” She took note of the concerned lines framing his blue eyes. “You say that like I’m destitute.” Well, she was close. “Or in need of help telling Vince.”
Gabe putted around the corner in Rex’s golf cart. “Mamacita!” He leaped out of the cart, letting it jerk to a halt on the road. He ran across dead grass to reach her, swinging her into his arms and spinning her around.
When her feet touched the ground, Harley’s head kept spinning. Joe steadied her.
“Did Sam tell you, too?” Harley asked Gabe when she felt clearheaded.
“Sam?” Gabe looked over at his niece, who still stood a safe distance away in the parking lot. He shook his head. “I was at Rex’s house watching Jeopardy when he got a call from the phone tree.”
Harley’s mind spun again. “Phone tree? The town has a phone tree?”
“Yep. Of which everyone in Harmony Valley is a member.” Gabe laid a hand on her belly. “Hello, little guy.”
Harley swatted his hand away. “I’m not into public displays of affection.”
“Gabe.” Joe seemed more comfortable chastising his brother than reacting to Harley’s news.
“This is great.” Gabe pushed Joe’s shoulder. “Better get busy on that honeymoon, little bro, so there are two Messina cousins the same age.”
“Gabe,” Joe repeated.
“I know, you don’t perform well under pressure. I saw your football games, remember?”
“Gabe!” Joe finally cut through his brother’s joking. “Vince doesn’t...”
“Vince doesn’t know,” Harley exclaimed. “Or want to have kids.”
“OMG!” Sam crossed the strip of wild grass to join them. “What is Harley going to do?”
“Let’s not tell him.” Harley’s suggestion met with three pairs of cold Messina eyes. “Or let’s not tell him until it’s official. You hear about false reads on those tests all the time.”
“You threw up,” Sam pointed out, helpful child that she was. “Isn’t that morning sickness?”
Harley refrained from rolling her eyes. “A misnomer if there ever was one.” She’d been feeling sick all day long.
“Anyway, I’d say you’re pregnant.” If Sam wasn’t normally such a sweet kid, Harley would swear Sam would pay for this someday.
“Isn’t that Vince’s rental?” Joe pointed to the highway lined with trees.
Sure enough, a small, dark, SUV approached.
Harley’s heart pounded. “Now’s not the time to say anything.” She’d wait until they got back to Houston. By then, maybe he’d have fallen in love with her a little bit more.
Gabe prodded Harley toward the road. “There’s no easy way to do it, so just do it fast, the way you pull off a bandage.”
“I’ll have to say it fast or you or someone else in town will tell him before I have the chance.” It wasn’t fair. She was supposed to be married when she got pregnant. She was supposed to cook a delicious dinner for her husband, light candles, pour wine for him and apple juice for her. Why was nothing going as it was supposed to?
“I won’t say a word.” Sam held up her small right finger. “Pinky swear.”
“I’m not falling for that again.” Harley walked forward, but then stopped. “Just... Everyone stay behind me and keep quiet.”
“She means you, Gabe,” Joe whispered.
“I mean all of you,” Harley whispered to them furtively.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
VINCE HAD SPENT more than an hour alone in his rental. And he’d argued the whole time.
With himself.
There was no denying the love he felt for Harley. Just looking at her made him want to smile, to reach for her, to let his guard down. When he looked into her sky-blue eyes, happiness welled inside him, filling the dark, lonely places with light. But he’d never turned his back on responsibility without disaster striking. Thus, the internal dispute.
He should nip his feelings for Harley in the blooming bud.
He should be cautious and let love grow.
He should limit their time together.
He should spend as much time with her as possible. Their scam was almost over.
And then he pulled into the repair shop parking lot, where his family stood waiting with Harley.
Waiting for what?
No one cracked a smile, not even Sam and Gabe.
Harley stood apart from the rest of them. Her arms were wrapped around her waist and her cheeks were pale.
No good news ever came from a somber welcoming party.
Fear slid its forearm around Vince’s throat and squeezed. He shouldn’t have left her here alone. He jammed the SUV into Park. If she’d been injured working in that house. If someone had hurt her...
He got out of the SUV, and held the riding mower’s new fuel filter hose like a weapon. “What happened?”
No one greeted him. Sam looked like she might cry. The air grew as stifling as a Houston summer.
“Somebody say something.” Vince swept the parking lot with his gaze, looking for arterial blood. “Where’s Brit? Is she okay?”
As one, his family stared at Harley.
“Brit’s fine.” Some color returned to Harley’s cheeks. “It’s, um, is that the part you needed for the mower?”
“The part?” Who cared about the part?
“Look, Vince...” Gabe stepped forward, as if assuming command.
“Gabe.” Joe pulled him back.
“Joe...” Gabe warned, swiping his hand a
side.
“Guys.” Harley turned and held out her arms as if she was herding his brothers backward. She should’ve known they weren’t herd-able.
Brit’s truck squealed around the corner and didn’t slow down until she skidded into the parking lot. She threw open the door and ran across the asphalt toward them. “I just heard! Congratulations!” She wrapped her arms around Harley and squealed.
“Congratulations?” Vince glanced around the group once more.
Had Harley come to her senses and decided Vince was a complete and total crap shoot? Was she leaving on the next flight back to Houston?
A freight train was thundering around a track in his head, drowning out sound. He didn’t know whether to be happy or sad, or angry or glad.
“What is wrong with you guys? Harley is pregnant and...” Brit held on to Harley’s arms, but Vince no longer heard what she said.
The freight train roared into high gear. Vince couldn’t hear what his future sister-in-law said next. Nor did he see how Harley reacted to the statement—was there shock, denial or happiness? He may have spent the last few hours fighting with himself, but he’d been knocked out by a phantom blow.
The next thing Vince knew, he was sitting on the asphalt, surrounded by his family, who seemed to be arguing about phone trees and pinky swears.
Why weren’t they talking about the baby?
“Hold up. Quiet down, everyone.” Vince searched the crowd for a set of elegantly sculpted cheeks and calming blue eyes. “Where’s Harley?”
The crowd parted and there she stood. The pregnant woman. Looking neither elegant nor calm.
She swayed from side to side as if she was on a pitching ship. Her eyes were a dark, stormy blue and as restless as a rough sea.
She needs me.
And yet... Pregnant.
Vince struggled to stand. “Are you going to have a baby?”
Harley’s uneasy gaze landed on him. “It’s hard to say. There were two little blue lines.” She held her thumb and forefinger close together. “And then everyone got excited.” Harley wasn’t excited.
Because she knew they’d finally found a deal-breaker.
Vince, who’d avoided attachment all his adult life, stumbled back. He stared at the redwood picnic table. At Joe and Gabe. At Harley. And all the while, the chest that had felt hollow for so long, tried to cling to a heart that was breaking. His.
Marrying the Wedding Crasher Page 17
