I turn around again, going back to the bar area to pour another drink. I’m going to be wasted if I keep this up, but I can’t seem to calm myself. My brother might be right that there’s no real gain for me, but I’m still lying. Regardless of what I said to Maren, it feels a little different today.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“And what about Maren’s prize? All she gains is making a dying man happy. She doesn’t get anything personal from it.”
“So, lying is fine as long as you don’t get anything out of it?”
Grayson runs his hands through his hair. “No, but if I were dying, and Melia was alone in the world, I would want to know that she was going to be okay. What she’s giving Pat is a gift, and if you don’t see that, then . . . I don’t know.”
I laugh because that was the same shit I told Maren yesterday.
I sit in the chair opposite of him, my drink in my hand, and I close my eyes. There’s a sharp pain in my abdomen, and I take my punishment. “I really wish I knew how to say no.”
Grayson leans forward. “Well, you don’t, so best not to dwell on it because you and I both know you aren’t going to call this off.”
He’s right. No matter how bad of an idea I think this is, I won’t let her down. Why won’t I let her down? Why do I care so much?
Is it because I like kissing her? Is it because, last night, I dreamed that all this was real? That I was watching the woman I love walk to me, ready to say the words I hoped someone would say. That’s ridiculous.
I like her. I want her, but I don’t love her.
I barely know her.
Yet, this morning, I wanted to call her and hear her voice. I wanted to curl up on the couch with her so we could talk about how we feel about what’s about to go down.
Jesus. I need to get it together.
“I need to be alone,” I tell my brother.
He sighs and gets up. I watch him walk to the bar area and grab the bottles. “I’ll leave, but you need to stop drinking and get out of your head.”
“Asshole.”
Grayson leaves, and I’m alone without booze or anything else but my thoughts. Before I can go down the rabbit hole of doom, someone knocks.
“Hi, Uncle Oliver,” Amelia and Kinsley say when I open the door.
“Hi, girls.”
“Are you excited?” Kinsley asks.
“Sure am.”
These two have no idea this is all fake. Well, maybe Kinsley does. She’s smart and devious like her mother.
“We came to keep you company while you wait to get married!” Amelia says with a huge grin. She rushes forward, wrapping her arms around my legs. “I’m so happy.”
I’m glad someone is.
I’m not sure how much of these kids I can handle. “I don’t think you guys need to stay.”
My stomach roils, and I think I’m going to be sick. Maybe that last glass of whiskey wasn’t such a great idea.
“But we have to,” Amelia says as she releases me. “Daddy said we have to make you smile, and I always make you smile.”
“You do,” I tell her with sincerity. “But I am tired and just want to rest.”
Kinsley clears her throat. “We were told we had to stay.”
“In case I plan to run?”
She shrugs. “Unfortunately, you’re considered a flight risk.”
“You’re too much like your mother,” I say as I get a flashback of my sister at her age.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She would.
The girls settle in, going on and on. Amelia talks a mile a minute, telling me about the new dance teacher she has and how much fun the class is now. “But I don’t like putting my hair in a tight bun,” she says.
“Uh-huh.”
“It hurts sometimes because Mommy uses the clips I don’t like.”
“Sounds terrible,” I say, not registering what she’s saying.
I’m too absorbed with thinking of Maren and what she must be feeling. My thoughts go in circles, trying to wrap my mind around it all. Is she upset? Is she regretting it? Is she going to go through with it, or will I look like an idiot standing there with no bride?
My obligation to the resort is fulfilled. We successfully had our soft opening. The staff have been exceptional, and the issues we’ve found have been easily rectified. The fully booked rooms allowed us to push the project to the finish line. Also, Maren’s aunt is a travel blogger and told Maren she couldn’t wait to post about her stay.
All of this is good. I should be happy, but instead, I’m a wreck.
And I can’t stop thinking about Maren.
A hand waves in front of my face. “Hello? Are you in there?”
“Yeah, sorry, I . . .”
“You’re freaking out. Are you going to bolt? I have a code word I’m supposed to use if so,” Kinsley says, grabbing her phone.
“No, I’m not ready to bolt.”
She shakes her head, watching me closely before typing on the phone.
“What’s the code?” I ask.
“Chicken.”
“No doubt it’s what your mother picked?” I ask, and Kinsley smiles.
I hate my siblings some days.
I look down at her phone, and sure enough, the word is there. “Let me go talk to her for a second,” she says while getting eye-to-eye with her younger cousin. “Come on, Melia. We need reinforcements. We’ll be right back.”
“I’m fine, Kins.”
She shrugs. “I’d rather not be in trouble with the boss. She can get really scary.”
“And who is the chicken now?”
“You.”
“Just go so your mother doesn’t freak out,” I tell her with a chuckle.
She and Melia leave, and the room phone rings a few minutes later. I answer it with a very deep groan. “Hello, Stella. I’m not going to run. I’m just freaking fine—pissed off because our stupid older brother took my whiskey—but I’m not channeling my inner track star.”
“That’s great. Well, not about the whiskey though,” a soft voice replies.
Maren.
“I thought . . .”
“That I was Stella?” she finishes.
“Yeah.”
“I was having my own little freak out session before. Devney had to calm me down—again.”
I sit on the bed, leaning on my knees. “Glad I’m not the only one.”
“Look, I called because I wanted to tell you that it’s okay if you don’t want to do this. You’ve given me and my father a weekend that is something I’ll cherish forever. While I know it won’t be easy to back out, I would never hold it against you. If you could just let him walk me down, we can object or have someone else object. I know it’s not giving him everything, but it’s something. I bet I could convince Devney to cause a scene and tell everyone she’s still in love with you. Sean wouldn’t mind . . . much.”
I huff. “No one would believe that.”
She already had her chance to marry me and didn’t take it.
“Maybe not,” she agrees. “Whether or not you want to end it, I will always appreciate you for agreeing to any of it. There would be no hard feelings, and I never should’ve asked you to do this in the first place.”
The words I wanted to hear just a few minutes ago somehow feel wrong now. I know how her father feels and there is no way Maren wouldn’t resent me if I took this away from them.
“Are you in your dress?” I ask, not sure why this matters more than anything.
“I am.”
“Hair done?”
“Yes?” Maren says it as a question.
“Well, I’m in my tux, and everyone is already heading to the venue. It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good reception.”
“Oliver,” she says softly, “Even though the vows we’ll speak aren’t real, and even though we’re just pretending, I imagine this is still hard.”
I’m doing this to help a friend and to give a man who is dying some
thing to hold on to. I’m not like my father. I’m not using anyone around me to gain something. The only risk is to myself, and well, I’m fucking used to that pain.
“I’m vowing to be there for you, Maren. Yes, I have strong feelings on marriage and divorce, but . . . it won’t be legal, and it’ll make your father happy.”
It’ll make you happy.
That is really the driving force on why I’m doing this.
“I just want to say that you, Oliver Parkerson, are one of the most incredible men I’ve ever known, and it’s an honor to be your fake bride. I’ll see you soon?”
“I’ll see you soon.”
She laughs softly. “I’ll be the one in white.”
I hang up and stare at the phone, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. She just gave me an out, and I couldn’t take it.
“Quarter for your thoughts.” Stella’s voice is right beside me.
“It’s supposed to be a penny.”
She smiles. “Your thoughts are worth more.”
Only she could make me laugh. “How did you get in here?”
She lifts the key card. “I’m an owner, and that means I have a master card. The girls said you were having a meltdown.”
I shake my head. “More just . . . self-loathing.”
“Yeah, I imagine you would feel that way. I know Grayson already talked to you, so I won’t say the same shit he did. But I think what you’re scared of is that you actually like Maren. You maybe have some sort of vision that she could be that girl for you, the one who would walk down the aisle toward you for real.”
The denial is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to lie to my sister. “But it is all fake.”
“It is, but when a man offers to do outlandish things to help a woman, sometimes he catches feelings along the way.”
“Whatever.”
“Just don’t beat yourself up too much, Ollie,” Stella says while reaching out her hand to help me up. “You’re doing something kind, and kindness is always worth it. Plus, you guys are heading to a private beach house for five days so . . . who knows what’ll happen then.”
My eyes snap up because we’re only supposed to be there for one day. “Did you say five?”
She nods. “I convinced her that you both deserved this vacation. You’ve had a hell of a few weeks and some rest and relaxation are what I think you both need.”
Fuck my life and save me from my meddling sister.
Fourteen
MAREN
Deep breaths.
I can do this.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything will go just fine, and then, after the honeymoon, we’ll come back and figure out how we announce our separation.
Yeah. All of this is great.
Perfect really.
Not a single thing . . .
“Oh, God,” I say, starting to hyperventilate again.
Devney rubs my back. “Easy. You have a plan. Just stick to it.”
I look up at her, the pillar of strength and unwavering friendship. “Right. Just stick to the plan.”
She smiles, taking both of my arms and shaking me a little. “What’s your reason?”
“My father.”
“That’s right. Remember that. All of this has been to make him happy, so be happy for him.”
A tear falls down my cheek, and she curses before grabbing a tissue. “None of that,” she says as she dabs it away. “This is a happy day, and you’re stunning.”
I nod. “There’s that.”
Kinsley and Amelia come rushing around the corner in their navy-blue dresses that Stella somehow found. I couldn’t not have a junior bridesmaid and flower girl.
“You look like a princess!” Amelia beams. “I want to have a dress just like yours!”
“Someday, I’m sure you will.”
Kinsley smiles just as wide as her cousin. “Are you just as nervous as Uncle Oliver?”
“I’m trying to stay calm,” I say with a bit of a shake in my voice.
“Don’t worry,” she says with ease. “You both will do great, and it’s clear you like each other a lot.”
My heart falters for a second, and guilt threatens to overwhelm me. I hate that his nieces are going to be hurt by this. I turn to Devney, who grabs my shoulders again. “In and out, Mare. In and out. You have to breathe.” She turns to the girls. “Why don’t you guys go find the flowers that we put away.”
They walk off, but Kinsley looks back before she rounds the corner.
“I’m not going to make it through this.”
Dev focuses on me, eyes so intent that it’s almost scary. “You are going to walk down that aisle for your father. All of this has been for him. Got it?”
“I got it.”
She leads me through a few more deep breaths before I’m under control. She’s right, this will be fine. I used to love drama club, so I just need to think of this as a play that I’m starring in. Oliver and I won’t really be married, and we’ll go on a vacation as friends.
Charlie, Mark’s wife, peeks her head in the room. “Your dad is here.”
It’s time.
“Okay,” I say a little breathlessly.
He enters, tears filling his green eyes as he comes to a stop in front of me. “My darling, you are so beautiful.” The words come out as a whisper, and he nearly chokes on them. “Just like your mother.”
My heart aches as the tear falls down his cheek. Very rarely does he mention my mother anymore. In the beginning, he spoke of her often, told me stories of their lives together and the joy of having me. But as the years went by, Linda got more and more upset when he brought up my mom. It was as though she worked hard to create a division in his life so there was a line between his life before her and his life now. His life, career, children, and first wife were no longer relevant. Only she is. So, to see him emotional as he remembers her touches me deeply.
“Daddy,” I say, fighting back my own tears.
“She would’ve loved seeing you like this.” He takes a step back, admiring my gown.
It has a sweetheart neckline with a lace overlay that covers the length of the dress. The bodice is fitted, and the back is lined with buttons. It’s stunning, and I felt beautiful in it the moment I tried it on.
The planning of my wedding seemed like kismet from the day one-point-oh proposed. Whatever I searched for, I found immediately. My dress was the second dress I picked up off the rack, and it was in my size with no alterations needed. The venue was booked so easily, and it didn’t cost a fortune since Oliver owns the place. The date we picked worked for everyone’s schedule.
I guess I should have known that something was going to go sideways. Nothing is ever that effortless.
“I wish she was here,” I tell my father.
“Me too, Princess. But I believe your mother is looking down on you. She has always been guiding you, making sure you have loving people in your life.”
I bite back a remark about how I wish it was the same for him. “I have you,” I say instead.
“Yes, you do, Maren.” He starts to cough, so I help him sit as he points to the bag he brought. His medicines. I go through it, lifting options until he nods at the inhaler. He immediately breathes it in and then the coughing slows.
“Daddy?”
“It’s . . . getting harder to do this.” The confession rocks me.
“What can I do?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing anymore. We just have to . . .” He coughs a few times. “Love. Because I don’t have long.”
I am not ready to lose him. The selfish part of me wants him to keep fighting, to keep holding on because I’m not strong enough to handle the loss. I need him, and I love him.
I wouldn’t be doing any of this if that weren’t the case.
Then the part of me that holds all my compassion reminds me that he’s in pain. Each day is a fight, a struggle that is sucking the life out of him.
“I wish . . .”
“I know,”
Daddy offers. “But you have a wonderful man to be here for you.”
Not only am I about to start sobbing because of the fact that my father is dying but also because I’m a big fat liar.
He stands, and when he starts to weaken, I rise, catching his arm to steady him.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“There is nothing that will keep me from doing this. It’s my honor to walk with you today.”
“The honor is all mine, Daddy.”
He kisses my cheek and then tucks my hand in his arm.
Devney pops the door open right on time, a huge smile on her face. “You two ready? It’s time.”
As we stand in the line, ready to go into the ceremony, I feel so much all at once it’s hard to contain. There is sadness because it’s fake and this isn’t really my wedding. Happiness that I am able to give my father this moment, which is something I hope brings him great peace. Disappointment that I don’t actually have someone in my life like Oliver.
He’s going to stand beside me and give my family something they desperately need, and I don’t deserve someone as great as him.
The music begins, and his nieces go first, and then Oliver’s sister follows. She was a late add because it really didn’t make sense not to have Stella be a part of it when she’s his twin. Devney looks back at me with a smile before going through the door, letting it close behind her.
The music shifts, and it’s our turn.
The doors open, allowing me to see the inside for the first time. It’s absolutely stunning. White chairs line the silk runner in front of me. Huge, blush-colored flowers cap every row with long strands of greenery sweeping along the floor. The guests are all standing, but they all fall to the background when my eyes find Oliver.
“Ready, Princess?” Daddy asks when I don’t move.
I can’t look away from Oliver, and I’m unsure of why I suddenly feel so incredibly vulnerable.
He gives me a wide grin and then winks.
I smile, unable to stop myself. “I’m ready.”
Each step with my father holding my arm feels like a gift. I catalogue each step, every tightening of my hand on his arm, and commit it to memory. I glance up at my father who has tears streaming down his face and he smiles at me. That lift of his lips is all I needed to know I did the right thing.
A Chance for Us (Willow Creek Valley Book 4) Page 10
