“Do you have a gift?” she asked. Until this morning, she hadn’t thought of a wedding present for the couple. Cinnamon didn’t know them. They were Mac’s friends. And consequently, he should be the one thinking of a gift. With him in the house, her thoughts constantly flew to him, surrounded his habits, discovered the little things he did and didn’t do.
“No,” he finally said. “I’ll just write them a check. Isn’t that what people do these days?”
“It’s easier,” she said, her tone flat. “You’ll need a card. Maybe we can stop at Fletcher’s and pick up one.”
That was the way the day had begun and it didn’t get any better after they got to the ceremony.
Weddings were great social occasions. Cinnamon didn’t know how much time it had taken to plan the perfect day, but the ceremony was held in a grand church near Rock Creek Park in the center of D.C. A small intimate setting for three to four hundred of the bride and groom’s closest friends. Mac had left her and gone with the rest of the wedding party. As guests arrived and were escorted to seats, Cinnamon noticed Mac never performed this duty.
She wondered where he was. His hands had been ice cold when he’d left her. She checked her watch and noticed the time for the wedding to begin had come and gone. Cinnamon pursed her lips, wondering if everything was going all right with the wedding party. She sat in the middle of the packed church. Turning around, she tried to see the back of the building, tried to get a glimpse of the groomsmen. Did anyone look more nervous than usual for a day like this? She saw nothing.
Her eyes moved over the guests. Somewhere in the congregation was Mac’s former fiancée. Cinnamon wondered which one she was. She’d seen no signs of her, other than Mac’s attitude. No photos of them together enjoying some moment he wanted to preserve had been at Allison’s or in the room he used at her grandmother’s. Cinnamon scanned faces and the backs of heads, wondering about the woman who’d captured Mac’s heart.
And ruined him for any other woman.
Time continued to move. Half an hour went by and people were shifting in their seats. Conversations rose over the organ music as the fear that something was wrong became tangible.
Fifteen minutes later, Mac appeared in the door escorting a slightly overweight woman wearing a pale-yellow chiffon dress that floated about her as she moved. Her face held a broad smile, but her features looked strained. She took a seat in the front row. She had to be the mother of the bride. Cinnamon took a breath. This meant the entire wedding party was here and the ceremony would begin.
Mac didn’t come back up the aisle, but went toward a back door that led behind the altar. Cinnamon looked at his face as he moved. He stared directly in front of him, looking neither left nor right. Cinnamon peered at the guests, wondering which of them was more interested in Mac than the others. A wave of jealousy snaked through Cinnamon as she spotted a woman several rows in front of her. She must be Jerrilyn McGowan.
The ex-fiancée.
Finally the groom and best man came out from the vestibule. Cinnamon breathed easier. Everything was going to be fine. The music rose and the procession started. Cinnamon gave her attention back to the ritual, yet watched closely as Mac took his place and looked out over the congregation.
It was a storybook ceremony. After the late start, everything was a well-directed play. Cinnamon kept her eyes on Mac. The other members of the wedding party stood straight, but relaxed. In contrast, Mac was rigid.
Cinnamon listened to the vows as if they were being spoken to her, all the while her eyes were trained on Mac’s back. Once he looked over his shoulder. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to connect with her, as she wished, or if he sought someone else in the church.
The bride and groom kissed and started up the aisle as husband and wife. The guests filed out, meandering around in small groups that eventually headed for the reception hall while the traditional photographs were being taken. Cinnamon waited near the car.
Finally the wedding party appeared, piling into waiting limousines. She stood up straight as Mac headed toward her. She didn’t know how to read him. Was he still upset about being here? He opened her door and helped her inside without a word. As he got in and pulled out of the parking lot, Cinnamon wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned the car toward home and skipped the reception altogether.
But he didn’t.
“The bride was late,” he finally said, answering her unasked question. Cinnamon wondered what the forty-five-minute delay was for. Traffic in the District was always a problem, but she didn’t think it was that.
“You didn’t think she was coming?”
“The thought occurred to me. That was why I was at the back of the church. It took so long that Richard asked me to go and see what the holdup was. The bride arrived as I got there.”
“Was that why you escorted her mother to her seat?”
He nodded. “I needed to get back to Richard as soon as possible. Going through the church was the quickest route.”
“I’m glad it turned out all right,” she said.
“So far.”
“Mac, you can relax now. The ceremony is over. From here on, it’s a party. Everyone will be thinking of the bride and groom. No one will be talking about you.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Jerrilyn was in the audience. I saw her when I took Mrs. Tate to her seat.”
“But you were expecting that,” Cinnamon reminded him.
He nodded so slightly that she could have thought he forgot. Cinnamon wondered whether he was truly over her. They’d made love and she was sure Mac hadn’t used her as a substitute, but he’d been engaged to Jerrilyn, and wanted to marry her. The emotions within him had to be strong. Maybe they were still as strong as they had been two years ago. Maybe he really wanted to marry her despite the way Cinnamon had felt in his arms.
They pulled into the parking lot of the reception hall directly behind the other cars in the wedding party. Mac helped her out. He had duties and for a time Cinnamon was separated from him. The reception was inside a ballroom that was designed for large groups. The garden had been decorated with flowers and ribbons and more photos were taken out there.
Cinnamon knew no one at the reception. She wandered about alone for a while, then joined the end of the reception line.
“Congratulations,” she said when she reached the happy couple. Both looked as fresh and happy as if she were the first person in the reception line. “I’m with MacKenzie Grier.”
“He told us about you,” the bride said, shaking her hand. Cinnamon moved farther down the line, wondering what Mac had said.
The line broke up as she got to the last member of the party. Mac was instantly by her side.
“How are you doing?” she whispered.
“Fine, now that everything is over.”
The traditional bride and groom dance came next. Everyone watched for half the song, then the floor was flooded with people.
“Dance with me?” she asked.
Mac took her in his arms and squired her around the floor. He said he was fine, but she felt the tension in his arms as they held her.
“Look at me,” she told him. His eyes looked into hers. “Relax. Just look at me and move your feet.”
After a while, she felt the tautness leave him. His arms closed around her waist and they swayed to the music. He continued to look at her, blocking out everything else. Cinnamon thought she was getting the Mac she knew back. But as the music ended he pulled her arm through his and turned to lead her off the floor. Suddenly the arm she was holding tensed. Cinnamon looked at him and then followed his gaze. A woman, dressed in a royal-blue suit, walked toward them. She wasn’t the one Cinnamon had seen in the sanctuary and thought was Jerrilyn McGowan. That woman was pretty. This woman was beyond gorgeous. She moved with confidence, her smile double wattage.
“Mac, it’s great to see you.” She didn’t extend her arm to shake hands or move to hug him as friends often did when they hadn’t seen ea
ch other in a long while.
“Jerrilyn,” he said with a slight nod.
Something akin to pain went through Cinnamon. This was Jerrilyn. This was the woman Mac had been in love with, might still be in love with.
“Jerrilyn McGowan,” she said, looking at Cinnamon. This time she did extend a hand.
“Cinnamon Scott.” Cinnamon accepted her hand. She had to lean forward since Mac had her left arm pressed into his side.
“I suppose Mac has told you our story?” she asked.
“Yes,” Cinnamon said.
Turning her attention to Mac, she said, “We were just as happy as Richard and Sandra,” she said. “We should have gone through with the wedding.”
“It wouldn’t have worked, Jerrilyn,” Mac told her.
“It could have,” she said.
Before Mac could reply, a man came up carrying two glasses of wine. He gave one to Jerrilyn.
“You remember Perry Laurance?” Jerrilyn said.
“Hello, Mac.” Perry greeted them with a smile. “Good to see you again.” The two men shook hands.
“This is Mac’s date,” Jerrilyn said. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Cinnamon,” she supplied. “Cinnamon Scott.”
“I can see she’s more than Mac’s date,” Perry said. Cinnamon tightened her hand on the arm Mac was holding.
“Congratulations, Mac.” He indicated the ring on Cinnamon’s finger. “Wow, that’s the largest diamond I’ve ever seen.”
Cinnamon held her breath. She waited for Mac to deny an engagement, waited for him to tell them the truth, but Mac said nothing.
“It’s beautiful,” Jerrilyn said, staring at Cinnamon’s hand. She looked a little taken by surprise. Cinnamon wondered if she was jealous that her ring hadn’t been this large.
The diamond was real and it was disgustingly large, but it wasn’t a real engagement ring. Cinnamon loved the feel of it on her finger. There were times she pretended she really was engaged to Mac. She hadn’t thought that maybe he had the same fantasy. And moments ago it had become real.
“Well, it was good seeing you again, Mac,” Jerrilyn said. “And congratulations on your wedding. I wish you well.”
She and Perry turned and strolled away. Cinnamon felt the air go out of Mac’s body. It was over.
“First time?” she asked.
He nodded. “I thought it would be worse.”
“She’s beautiful, Mac.” Cinnamon could see how he’d pursue her. The two would make a beautiful couple.
“Not inside,” Mac said. “Not in her heart, where it counts.”
Without asking, Mac turned Cinnamon back into his arms for another dance. Cinnamon wanted to ask about the impression he’d left with his former fiancée. The two were not engaged, yet he’d let Jerrilyn leave believing they were.
As the dance ended, Cinnamon called his name. He looked at her, but quickly turned away as someone else called to him.
“Mac!” The newly married Briscoes rushed over to them. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Sandra and Richard Briscoe nearly glowed with pleasure. “Let me see the ring,” Sandra commanded.
She grabbed Cinnamon’s hand and pulled it into view. Richard stared at the size of the stone and looked at Mac.
“What is that, a mortgage?” he asked. They all laughed. The former Sandra Tate, now Sandra Briscoe, pulled Cinnamon into her arms as if they had been friends for years.
Cinnamon was no longer finding this funny. A pretend engagement was one thing. They’d agreed to go as friends. And nothing more. But now…what was this? And more people knew; believed.
“I am so happy for you.” Sandra hugged her again. Richard pumped Mac’s hand. “You should have told us. I guess this means all that stuff with Jerrilyn is behind you.”
Sandra elbowed her husband.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s all right,” Mac told him.
“What’s going on here?” Several people who had seen Richard and Sandra’s actions drifted over.
“Mac’s getting married,” Richard explained.
“Mac, you’re engaged?” someone asked.
More people glanced over shoulders and pushed forward to see the ring on Cinnamon’s finger. He’d been asked the point-blank question. Cinnamon waited to hear his answer with as much anticipation as his friends.
“Finally, going to take the plunge again?” one of the groomsmen asked, accompanying his statement with several slaps on Mac’s back.
“You can’t run away forever,” Mac said. He introduced her to the crowd. “This is Cinnamon Scott, my fiancée.”
Cinnamon accepted the smiles and hugs, people shaking her hand and strangers kissing her on the cheek. She could barely hold in the tension coiled in her stomach. How was Mac going to get them out of something like a fake engagement?
News of their engagement spread through the crowd faster than a gale force wind. Cinnamon discovered these people thought highly of Mac. She was repeatedly invited to dance. And every man who took her to the floor gave her the same congratulatory speech. They told her how great a man Mac was and how Jerrilyn had abandoned him at the altar.
She was sure she gave the right responses, but she didn’t remember them. She was thinking about Mac, checking to see where he was. They needed to talk.
This was her fault. She shouldn’t have worn the ring. Without it, the circumstances they were in now would not have occurred. But Cinnamon had been too afraid to leave it behind. Looking at it, she twisted it on her finger. It gleamed in the light.
And it connected her to Mac.
As the bridal party took their seats for the formal meal, Cinnamon found her place card at her assigned table and took a seat. She looked around to see if anyone was noticing Mac, whispering about him and Jerrilyn, looking to see if they were together or getting together. All eyes seemed to be on the bride and groom. All except one person’s. Jerrilyn sat at a nearby table. Her gaze was directed at Mac despite the man leaning next to her and whispering in her ear.
A rush of jealousy went through Cinnamon. Her eyes went to Mac. He sat on the dais, but he wasn’t returning Jerrilyn’s stare. Cinnamon forced herself to take a breath. She wished she could go to him, put her arms around him and let him know that he had her support. As if he heard her wishes, his eyes met hers. She smiled and he returned it with a quick grin. It told her that he wished this was over and that he had never agreed to stand up for his friend. But it was too late for that.
“Hello.” A woman came and sat next to Cinnamon. “I’m Roxanne Goodman. I’m with Case. He’s in the wedding party.”
“Cinnamon Scott. I’m with Mac. He’s also in the wedding party.”
“I know. I saw you two when you arrived before the wedding. Case and I got here at the same time.”
“Hi, Roxanne,” another woman said as she found her name and took a seat across from them.
“Gloria,” Roxanne acknowledged. “It’s become a tradition to seat the dates, wives and husbands of the wedding party at the same table,” Roxanne explained. “Gloria is engaged to James.”
Cinnamon nodded and looked at the head table. She didn’t know Case from James or any of the groomsmen except Mac.
“James is sitting next to Mac,” Gloria supplied, pointing him out.
Cinnamon looked at the man next to Mac. He was as tall as Mac, but had a huge smile on his face. He looked like a practical joker. Gloria gave him a small wave and he nodded. Mac’s expression was unreadable.
Turning back to the table, Gloria asked. “Have you met Jerrilyn yet?”
“Gloria!” Roxanne chastised.
“It’s all right,” Cinnamon said. “I’ve met Jerrilyn. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, but Mac never gave her a ring the size of the one you’re wearing,” Roxanne said, apparently having gotten over her decision that talking about Jerrilyn was in bad taste. “I’ll bet she’s green with envy.”
“It’s her own faul
t,” Gloria said. “Mac was at the wedding. She was the one who chose not to show up.”
Cinnamon wanted to listen. She wanted to hear every detail of Mac’s life, but she decided it wasn’t fair. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about that?” she asked.
Gloria shrugged. “Sure,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” Roxanne said. “Gloria didn’t mean to upset you. So, how long have you and Mac been engaged?”
No matter where she turned at this reception, Cinnamon thought, someone was asking about her engagement to Mac. She’d barely had time to get used to the new rules that went along with being engaged. Thankfully, Mac wasn’t sitting next to her, but eventually the two would be together.
“Not long,” Cinnamon answered truthfully. She kept her face straight when she said it, but looked at the ring to camouflage the lie of omission that might be visible on her face. The truth was their engagement was not even an hour old.
And it wasn’t real.
Most of the traditional rituals had been done when Mac left the dais. Only the bride’s bouquet and garter remained to be thrown. And, of course, the cutting and eating of the bridal cake would be the last act. For those, Mac didn’t need to sit in front of the guests looking like a target for everyone to shoot at.
He’d divided his time between watching the audience and watching Cinnamon. She kept twisting the ring on her finger. While Mac hadn’t given it to her, he was sure her action was due to him telling Jerrilyn they were engaged. He couldn’t explain why he’d done it. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew it was lashing out at Jerrilyn, but that was only part of it. He wanted people to think he was over her. That her actions at their wedding hadn’t affected him.
In the process he’d used Cinnamon.
And he was kidding himself and everyone else. How could anyone not be changed by such an experience?
Wrong Dress, Right Guy Page 12
