Almost Like Being in Love

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Too tired to go swim in your parents’ pool for a little bit?” Alex placed his plate and fork in the sink. “They’re starting to discuss mortgages and interest rates in there. I’m sure we won’t be missed.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  And now she had no excuse not to tell Alex about how she’d won a destination wedding. She could only hope and pray he’d be excited about the idea—and not feel as if she’d backed him into the corner about proposing.

  “See you in the deep end.”

  Caron dried her hands on a dish towel. After a good meal, Alex was usually relaxed. Of course, Alex was always laid-back.

  Less than twenty minutes later, she’d slipped into a faded black-and-white tankini she kept in the closet in her parents’ guest room and sat on the edge of the pool, the water slick against her legs, the air thick with the humidity and the faint scent of chlorine. Alex swam toward her from the far end, his long, muscled arms slicing through the water, his legs kicking slow and easy. When he reached the wall, he flipped over, disappearing beneath the water away from her again, droplets of water splattering her arms and torso.

  So long as he kept swimming, she didn’t have to talk.

  Caron gripped the cement curves of the pool wall. This was absurd. She and Alex were in a long-term relationship. They’d talked about getting married more than once. For all intents and purposes, they were engaged . . . almost. They just hadn’t done anything specific. Yet. She’d tell Alex what had happened in Colorado. They’d share a laugh. And then they’d figure out when they wanted to use the unexpected gift of a destination wedding.

  Happily ever after for them. And their parents.

  “You’re very dressed up tonight.” Her father appeared in the hallway as Caron checked the items in her beaded gold clutch.

  “Well, it’s a special night.”

  “Really?”

  “Alex and I are celebrating our one-year anniversary.”

  “One year.” Her father clapped his hands. “I guess this is a case of fathers and mothers know best, eh?”

  Caron paused by the front door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “All those times you fussed when we teased about betrothing you to Alex—”

  “Dad, please. You and the Madisons embarrassed us talking like that. We were in high school. We could make up our own minds about who we wanted to date. Or not date.”

  “Well, you and Alex ended up together after all. I won’t say I told you so—”

  And he didn’t. But Caron knew what her father was thinking.

  “Going to join me?” Finished with his first set of laps, Alex pushed his thick brown hair back off his forehead and rested his crossed arms over the edge of the pool, his hazel eyes tinged a faint red from the chlorinated water.

  “I’m good here for now.” She spun tiny whirlpools with her feet. Time was up. “So while I was in Colorado, I went to a bridal expo with Margo and the girls . . . and the most unexpected thing happened.”

  “Really?”

  “The vendors gave out all sorts of prizes. Photography packages. Wedding cakes. Music for your wedding reception. All the wedding fun.”

  “Nice.”

  “The grand prize was a destination wedding in Colorado. Telluride, to be exact. It’s this amazing place, where you have to ride a gondola over the mountains into the town.”

  “Sounds different.” Alex did steady kicks with his legs, seeming ready to turn and launch off the side of the pool again and head for the other end.

  “I won it.”

  Alex blinked. Once. Twice. “You won . . . what?”

  Caron plunged her feet into the water, splashing water up onto her thighs. “I won the destination wedding and the honeymoon. In Telluride.”

  “But we’re not getting married.” Even as Alex held on to the side of the pool, he straightened his arms, pushing away from her. “I mean, I haven’t proposed—”

  “I know you haven’t proposed, Alex. A woman doesn’t overlook something like that. But we’ve talked about getting married.”

  “Yes, we’ve talked about it. But usually there’s a proposal before the wedding and honeymoon is planned. The whole ‘Will you marry me?’ tradition.” Alex’s brow furrowed. “And usually the future husband has a say in the plans.”

  “Alex, I filled out one entry form. One. Winning was some sort of crazy fluke.”

  “What if I don’t want to have a fluke wedding?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “When I propose, I want to get married here. In Florida. In our home church, with our family and our friends.”

  “But we haven’t even discussed this. And if you look at the photographs I took, you’ll see how spectacular Telluride is. Bridal Veil Falls—”

  “You’re right. We’ve never even discussed something like this.” Alex released his hold on the wall. “A destination wedding isn’t our style. Running off someplace with a small group of people and getting married? Excluding most of our friends and family? Why would we do that?”

  “You’re dismissing this without even thinking about it!” Caron’s raised voice seemed to slice through the air. “We’ve been given a wedding and honeymoon. It’s all paid for. What am I supposed to do with the grand prize?”

  “Give it back.” Alex spoke as if he’d settled the matter. “Do you think my mother is going to get on a plane and travel all the way to Colorado?”

  “Do you think your mother is going to handle some huge wedding here better than a smaller destination wedding?”

  Spoken and yet-to-be-spoken words quivered in the air between them.

  “This is not just about my mother, Caron.” Alex kept himself afloat by kicking his legs. “I don’t want a destination wedding.”

  “And what if I do?” The rough edge of the wall scraped against the back of her legs and the palms of her hands.

  The two of them were locked in some sort of verbal tug-of-war about a wedding she had won. By chance. That she hadn’t even been certain she wanted. And now she gripped the prize with both hands, almost daring Alex to take it away from her.

  “It seems we have a problem.” Alex stared at her, his body swaying back and forth in the water with the rhythm of his kicks.

  “Yes, we do.” Caron could play the stare-down game just as well as he could. “A Colorado destination wedding sounds fantastic.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t agree.”

  “I can see that. And I guess you have our wedding all planned out?”

  “Well, I always thought I’d have some say in it, rather than being told where it was so I could just show up.”

  Yanking her legs from the pool so that water splashed into Alex’s face, Caron scrambled to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” Alex swam toward the side.

  “Home.” She wrapped a flowered beach towel around her shoulders. “You know what? Nancy Miller was nicer to me tonight than you’re being right now.”

  “Caron—”

  “Good night, Alex.”

  ELEVEN

  Caron shoved the teal and purple pillows on her gray couch to one end, stretching out as she held her phone up at the proper angle so she could see the image of her sister-in-law’s face.

  “Can you still hear me, Vanessa?”

  “Yes. I can still see you, too.” Her sister-in-law’s smile came through even miniaturized by FaceTime.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t talk with you last Monday when Logan and I Skyped.”

  “After he told me what you all talked about and what he said to you, I’m not surprised you didn’t feel up to more conversation.”

  “Yeah. He was taking his big brother role pretty seriously.” Caron snagged a handful of Hot Tamales from the bowl resting on the coffee table beside the couch. She popped two in her mouth, savoring the sweet and spicy tang of her favorite candy.

  “Your big brother’s back on the road with the team. I promise to just listen. That’s what sis
ters are for.”

  “I don’t know. Every night when I go to bed, I think about the day I quit working for my dad. Did I do the right thing? Should I have stayed? Could I have swallowed my . . . not my pride, exactly, but my hopes, and stayed around and watched Nancy Miller get everything I wanted?”

  “And?”

  “How do you stay when someone comes in and steals your place? Not that I have her experience. I don’t. But she’s where I wanted to be—well, eventually.” Caron blinked back the hot sting of tears. Useless. “You want to know the funny thing?”

  “What?”

  “My father invited Nancy and her boyfriend to dinner last night and . . .”

  “And?”

  “She was nice.”

  “And that’s funny because . . . ?”

  “Because I didn’t want to like her. It would be easier to not like her if she was pretentious or . . . or—”

  “Not nice?”

  “Yeah.” Caron gathered a few more candies into the palm of her hand.

  “Okay. So Nancy Miller is nicer than you thought. And she took your place—what you hoped to be your future. So that door is closed?”

  “If by ‘that door,’ you mean working for my father—yes, it’s closed. I slammed it shut. I can’t imagine going back there for any reason. And then after what Logan said—”

  “He was out of line, Caron.”

  “No, he wasn’t. Not really. I didn’t like what he said to me, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Questioning why I played basketball in high school. Was it just because my dad liked basketball? Was it a way to get his attention? And then Logan suggesting that I wanted my dad to make it easy on me at work . . . Is there any truth to what he said?”

  “Is there?”

  “I don’t know.” Caron chewed on a few Hot Tamales, the flavor burning her tongue. “Or is it that I don’t want to know?”

  Vanessa stared at her from the small space of her cell phone.

  “Nothing to say?”

  “I’m trying to hold up my end up of the bargain—the one where I said I’d listen.”

  “You’ve been a great listener.” Caron sat up, rubbing at the crick in her neck. “I haven’t even talked about the other issue.”

  “What issue?”

  “Didn’t Logan tell you that I won a destination wedding?”

  “Yes, but why is that a problem? It sounds wonderful! I love Colorado. After all, I lived there.”

  “Well, Alex doesn’t think it sounds wonderful.”

  “What? Maybe he was just surprised—”

  “Oh, he was surprised. But he was also angry.” Caron adjusted her position on the couch, echoes of last night’s scene with Alex filling her mind. “And I . . . I got angry, too.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then I left. Alex and I never argue.”

  “Never?”

  “It’s just not what we do. Alex is so easygoing. That’s one of the things I’ve always appreciated about him. But right now I like the idea of a wedding in Colorado more than I like my boyfriend.”

  Vanessa’s laughter pulled a giggle from Caron. “You did not just say that.”

  “Yes, I did. I know we’re supposed to be this ideal couple, but between his response to my quitting work and his reaction to my winning the wedding . . . I feel like I don’t know Alex as well as I thought I did.”

  “Are you having second thoughts about marrying him?”

  “How can I have second thoughts when he hasn’t even asked me yet? A fact he pointed out, I might add.” Caron got up and wandered into the kitchen, setting the dish of candy on her counter. “I am having thoughts, though.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I lost my perfect job. My perfect boyfriend isn’t so perfect. There. I said it out loud. I keep asking God what’s next—and oddly enough, I’m almost ready for something less than perfect.”

  “That’s a different perspective on things. I’ll start praying for some imperfection in your life, how about that?”

  “Thanks.” Caron released a sigh, her shoulders collapsing. “Hey, next time you talk to my brother, tell him I love him, will you?”

  “Why don’t you call him or send him a text? He’d probably like to hear from you.”

  “You’re right. I’ll do that once we get off the phone.”

  “Well, I have a date with an exercise video, so go ahead and text your brother.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Love you, Vanessa.”

  “Love you back.”

  Caron leaned into the counter, resting her forehead on her outstretched arms. The kitchen was her favorite room in her house. She’d worked step by careful step to transform it into what she wanted. The glass-fronted cabinets were the perfect display for her Fiestaware dishes, stacked in vivid colors of peacock blue, poppy red, sunflower yellow, and deep plum. And when she turned on the varied lighting choices she’d included—both under-the-counter accent lights as well as vintage glass pendants—her pure white Corian counters almost glistened. Unable to decide between wood or tile floors, she’d opted for tile that looked like wood, smiling at the humor and beauty of it every time she entered the room.

  This room was everything she’d ever dreamed of for a perfect-for-her kitchen. Worth the wait. She’d put up with all the in-between stages because she was the only one who didn’t see the unfinished steps as “less than.” Nobody told her to what to do. Or to hurry up and fix this or that. It would be everything she wanted—one day.

  And now she was letting Vanessa pray for imperfection in her life? Should she call her back and ask her to pray for what she wanted? But what was that? She’d already lost her dreams . . . and there’d been no time to replace them with new ones.

  Imperfection would have to be enough right now.

  TWELVE

  The walls of the locker room muffled the sounds of the weight room. The clank of weighted plates. The dull thud of barbells hitting the floor. The air was laden with leftover humidity from the showers and the competing scents of sweat and soap.

  Kade straddled the bench in front of his locker, using a white hand towel to absorb some of the lines of perspiration trickling down the sides of his face. “Ready for the Mudder at the end of the month?”

  Mitch drained the last of the water from his Contigo water bottle, his neon-green T-shirt clinging to his chest. “You keep asking me that. Have I said anything about backing out?”

  “Nope. Just checking. I talked with Brady and Zach and they’re still a go. What about your brother?”

  “He’s in, and he invited his CrossFit instructor, a guy named Don. An ex-air-force guy. Seems pretty straight up.”

  “Sounds good. You want to invite anyone else to join the fun?”

  “If Pete was stateside, I’d definitely give him a call. But I think we’ve got a good-sized team.”

  “Works for me.”

  “I’m gonna head home and shower there.” As Mitch rolled past, the two men exchanged quick fist bumps. “See you tomorrow at work?”

  “Yeah. Don’t be late. I want to catch you up on the Tour of Homes project—” Kade paused as his phone buzzed. “Let me grab this. I’ll catch you in the morning.”

  A quick glance at his phone indicated Sheila Mills was calling.

  “Sheila, how are you? Ready to give me some of your ideas for staging Eddie Kingston’s house for the Tour of Homes?”

  “Oh, Kade, I’m so glad you picked up.” Sheila’s words ran together like an out-of-control train. “Something awful has happened . . . I don’t know what to do. I mean, I know what to do, but everything’s a mess and I hate to call and tell you—”

  “Sheila, take a deep breath and calm down.” Kade swung his leg over the bench so he could stand up and pace the floor. “Let’s try this again. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But my sister, Cecilia, well, she fell down the basement stairs in her house because she tripped on her son’s shoes and she broke her ankle and her wrist. Can you
believe that? I mean, it would be bad enough if she broke just her ankle or her wrist . . . but breaking both of them? And the doctor said she might need surgery on her ankle . . .” Sheila ignored his advice to take a deep breath and calm down. “And she has four kids. The oldest is eight. And her husband is deployed. You understand, don’t you?”

  In her frantic state, Sheila hadn’t even told him the worst part of the situation—at least what was the worst part for him. But he did understand.

  “You have to go help your sister. That’s what family is for.”

  Not that he’d experienced anything like that in his life, not after his parents’ divorce. He scrabbled to get his thoughts together, ignoring the flash of memory of spending time with the Neilson family when he was in high school. That was so long ago it no longer counted.

  “She lives in Virginia. The kids and I are leaving as soon as I get off the phone with you. Kade, I’m so sorry.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll text you some other options for people who can help stage the Kingston home.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to call any of them to see if they’re available—”

  “Just do what you need to do and get on the road.” Kade sat back down on the bench. “Don’t worry about me. Mitch and I will figure this out.”

  His bravado faded as soon as he ended his conversation with Sheila.

  What was he going to do? The Peak Tour of Homes opened the first Monday after the July Fourth weekend. He trusted Sheila and her team to stage a house well. They’d worked together on a dozen or more homes. They understood each other. She knew the importance of the tour, and they’d already discussed options for the various rooms.

  He’d put his reputation, as well as his hopes for his professional future, on the line when he’d pitched his plan to Eddie Kingston. He had to overcome this setback.

  • • •

  “I appreciate you letting me interrupt your dinner for this impromptu business meeting, Lacey.” Kade shoved his spaghetti coated with a marina sauce, fragrant with oregano and basil, around on his plate with a piece of French bread, but not even the scent of butter and garlic lifted his spirits. “I just need some help figuring this out.”