He dumped his plate and cup in the trash, then turned and nearly collided with Allie.
“Sorry.” They both spoke at the same time.
“My fault.” He took the plate from her hand, noting the still unfinished quiche, and tossed everything into the garbage.
“What, you’re not in a hurry to play the game?” Her eyes twinkled as she pulled her cell from her pocket and laid it on the counter. “Sounds like they’re having fun.” Behind her, loud laughter rang from the swinging doors that led to the living room, where, judging by the instructions he’d heard on his way out, the guests were playing some kind of purse scavenger hunt.
He leaned back against the kitchen counter, scooting her cell to the side to brace his hands on the tile. “Don’t have a purse. I’m safe.”
“The men are the ones having to find the items in their dates’ purses.”
Ah. Well, that wasn’t awkward. Especially since, by the looks of the room earlier, he and Allie were the only ones older than sixteen who had come without an official significant other.
Some days the knife just kept twisting.
Allie shifted closer, leaning one hip against the counter beside him. The low light above the kitchen sink shone against her hair, pulled halfway up with a clip the way he’d always loved. She wore the same dark dress she’d worn a few weeks ago at the engagement party, the night they’d first seen each other again. She wore it well.
Talk about knives.
“I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have come by your garage.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the hum of the refrigerator and the rush of the heater in the vents above them would have kept the conversation private, even if the noise from the party room didn’t.
They were alone. Too alone.
His arm drew nearer to hers on the counter, as if pulled by a magnet, and he shifted toward her to answer. “It wasn’t a problem.” Well, a little bit of one. But that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know what he’d resolved.
Same resolve that was currently slipping away like oil through a filter.
“Felt like a problem.” Now she was whispering and edging closer to him too.
His heart thundered against his button-down, and somehow his fingers grazed hers on the countertop. Like moths to a flame. “I’m sorry if I was rude. You’re not ever a problem, Allie.” He was the problem, clearly, if she’d left him for no reason.
A reason she might have currently forgotten, as now her eyes were dipping from his own to his lips.
No. He couldn’t. He pulled in a tight breath and she mirrored the action, her gaze still darting back and forth, a dozen questions mingling inside. The same questions that his heart shouted, had shouted for months now, demanding answers.
Demanding action.
He cupped her face in his palm and kissed her.
Allie returned Marcus’s kiss, her lips mingling with his in a dance they’d performed countless times, yet somehow it felt brand-new. She rose slightly on tiptoe and pressed in closer, his hand warm against her face. His free arm came around her waist and fit snugly as ever.
A knot of hope and dread tangled in her stomach. Hope that they had a chance, dread that they didn’t. Hope that she’d been wrong about Marcus’s feelings toward her, dread that now she’d ruined any chance of friendship they could have had after all.
Yet even with the tug-of-war in her heart, she couldn’t bear to pull away.
Marcus’s hand against her face slid into her hair, and her fingers found the collar of his shirt as he deepened the kiss. A rush of old and not-so-old memories poured over her, triggering a tidal wave of regret. But it was quickly drowned out by reality.
And the sound of the kitchen door squeaking open.
Allie pulled away at the same time that Marcus slammed back against the counter, his hands thumping against the sides. The sound startled Allie, but her surprise was nothing compared to the shocked expression on Hannah’s face.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” The grin that spread across her cheeks made her seem a whole lot less than sorry. “I just noticed you guys had disappeared, and we’re about to start opening gifts.”
“Of course. We’re coming.” Allie coughed, reaching up to wipe her lips, then catching herself just in time. “I mean, I’m coming.” She didn’t know what Marcus was doing. Or what she was doing, for that matter.
She really just wanted to do it again.
“Be right there.” Marcus shot his sister a pointed look, and her smug-kitty grin only deepened before she slipped back into the party. Allie’s heart stuttered. She’d so be hearing about this later.
The door swung shut behind her, once again engulfing them in the solitude of the kitchen. She turned to Marcus, wishing she could read inside his head before having to speak.
“Allie, I—”
“Marcus, we—”
They both stopped, and tried again.
“We can’t—”
“I really—”
“Wait.” Allie held up both hands. “We can’t what? Your turn.”
He hesitated, bracing both arms against the tiled countertop. “We can’t . . . this. That.” He gestured between them. “That was . . . well, it was. And it can’t be.”
Sort of how she felt, except . . . no, it was the opposite. Oh, she knew better, her head agreed tenfold, but her heart . . . it had somehow missed the logic memo and was still wrapped up in the warmth of Marcus’s arms.
She started to fan her face, then caught herself. “I agree.” How could she not? In the face of rejection. Rejection she deserved, sure, but he’d just kissed her and then told her he couldn’t do it again. She swallowed, hoping her expression didn’t betray her thundering nerves. “It’s not a good idea.”
“Right. A bad idea.” Marcus’s eyes searched hers, as if seeking a different response, but that wasn’t fair. What was she supposed to do, beg him to change his mind? He hadn’t begged her after she left the church or in the days to follow. He was the one making the call this time. Not her.
But the rush of familiarity between them and the built-up emotion of the past few weeks loosened her tongue and her resolve. “But maybe . . .”
No, he was right. It was a bad idea. She’d been trying to find a way for them to be friends, and somehow they’d ended up making out in Zach’s kitchen. Clearly their physical connection was alive and well—no surprise there—but the curse was still the curse.
“Maybe what?” His breath hitched visibly in his chest, and she fought the urge to press her hand against his heart. She’d loved doing that when they were together, feeling the beat of it beneath her palm, listening to his whispered promises about whom it beat for.
“Maybe . . .” No, she couldn’t think straight. Nothing had changed.
But maybe it had. Maybe she’d been wrong about it all. What if she and Marcus really could create their own life and leave all her curses behind? Leave the dress behind, her family behind, and start over on their own, as they’d always wanted.
What if—what if—it was possible?
Her cell lit up in a silent ring on the countertop. Her mother’s number.
“You take it.” Marcus squeezed her hand before he eased away, the unspoken understanding that they weren’t finished yet lingering in his wake. “I’ll see you in there.”
Yes. Yes he would.
Allie scooped up her cell. Impeccable timing on her mother’s part, as always.
“Hi, Mom.” She turned away from the kitchen light and pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting the headache that always seemed to spring up right along with her mom’s voice. “What’s up? I’m at Hannah and Zach’s party.” Kissing my exfiancé. Her face heated, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure Marcus had left.
Gone.
Not that she really blamed him. She didn’t want to be around her mother, even via cell phone, either.
“Another party we weren’t invited to?” Her mother’s voice barreled through the reception,
and Allie yanked the phone an inch away from her ear. “That’s what, three now?” Confusion filled her voice more than shock, which wasn’t at all surprising. For all her mother’s coldhearted calculations, she never was big on getting a hint.
“Mom, just because you know Hannah as my friend doesn’t mean you’re invited to every event they have.”
She’d explained this once before, a week ago, actually, when her grandmother had started griping about all the things she’d done for Hannah over the course of their friendship. Eventually Allie figured she’d stop being shocked over her family’s naïveté. Did they really have no idea how people perceived them? How obnoxious they were at social events? How offensive they were by throwing around their opinions, and how obvious they were about scouting for a new man at every public outing?
“Well, being invited to one of them might have been nice.” Her mom sniffed, and Allie fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“What do you need, Mom? I’m supposed to be writing down the gifts Hannah and Zach open.” She assumed so, anyway, since she’d done it at the previous showers, but even so she just wanted to get off the phone. Wanted to figure out what she’d tell Marcus. Wanted to process his kiss.
Or had she kissed him first?
Now she couldn’t even remember.
“I just wanted to ask you about the dress.” Her mom’s tone turned borderline cajoling, a surefire sign Allie wouldn’t like what was coming next.
She braced one arm against her stomach. “What about it?” She couldn’t turn off the warning in her voice, not that her mother would heed it.
“I need to borrow it for a while.”
Oh no. “What do you mean?”
There was an expectant pause. “I’m getting married.”
Of course. Allie’s stomach clenched. “Congratulations.” The word came out more monotone than she meant. Or maybe not monotone enough. “So you want to use the dress again.”
“Well, it’s not like you need it right now.”
That one sank in deep. Allie briefly closed her eyes. “They’re opening the gifts now. I’ve got to go.”
“Just get the dress to me in two weeks or sooner. I’ll make sure you get an invitation, dear.”
Yes, because she definitely couldn’t miss this one.
Allie mumbled good-bye and clicked the power button on her phone, squeezing the small contraption until her hand ached as much as her heart. They’d never learn. Not any of them. They were living, generational proof that some curses couldn’t be broken. That some destinies were meant to happen, and all you could control was who you took down with you.
She straightened with a sigh and marched determinedly toward the living room, her previously soaring heart now as heavy as that workbench she’d spent days restoring.
She refused to take Marcus down with her.
He’d kissed her.
And he’d do it again, given the chance.
Marcus couldn’t contain his whistle as he climbed out of his truck in the dimly lit church parking lot, ignoring the uncomfortable pinch of his dress shoes, not even minding that tomorrow evening during the actual wedding he’d be stuck in a full suit for hours on end as an usher. None of that mattered.
He’d kissed Allie.
And she’d kissed him back.
The purple twilight around him only heightened the expectant pulse in the chilly February air. Tonight would be good, maybe life-changing good. He could feel it.
“Hey, Marcus! Wait up!”
He slowed to a stop outside the sanctuary doors, turning as Zach jogged toward him in a pair of dress pants and a button-down—not his usual look. He shoved his glasses further up on his nose, out of breath as Hannah hurried up behind him.
Zach slowed to a stop. “I just heard from one of my groomsmen, my buddy from college. He isn’t going to be able to make it to the wedding.”
Marcus frowned, though the news didn’t do much to dampen his elation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hannah pointed at him from behind Zach with a grin. “In other words, brother, you just got promoted.”
“Me? What?” He looked from Hannah to Zach and back again, his elation slowly leaking out. Uh oh. This wasn’t what he’d meant by expectant pulse. “Which guy is it, exactly?” But he already knew. The only one coming from out of town was—
“The best man.” The words rolled matter-of-factly off Hannah’s tongue, and Marcus did a classic double take.
“The best what?” If that were true, he’d be walking down the aisle with Allie—the maid of honor.
Which should have been matron of honor by now.
His stomach pitched a little, sort of like the time he’d been in a rear-end collision. He could see it coming, could feel the panic squeezing his chest, but the brakes just weren’t working quickly enough.
Hannah clapped his shoulder and squeezed. “Best man, silly. You’ll be great—you’ve had practice.”
“Thanks for the reminder, little sis.” He shot her a warning glare, and she brushed him off with a flippant wave of her hand.
“You’ll be fine.” She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the sanctuary doors. He paused, shrugging out of her grip as reality sucker-punched him in the gut.
This was the first time he’d entered this church since that fateful day last September. Now he’d be standing there in a wedding not his own—with Allie ironically on his arm.
They’d never been able to finish the conversation they’d left hanging at the tool shower a few days ago. When Allie finished her phone call, she’d gone straight to the notebook Hannah had set aside for her and begun scribbling down names and gifts as the presents were methodically opened. After the party, she’d stayed to help with the cleanup. There was no reason for him to stay without looking suspicious, since his offer to help around the house was quickly dismissed by Zach’s mother.
Thanks to Hannah and their mom, who always had one more errand for him to run, the next forty-eight hours had been a blur of work and wedding prep. He’d been hoping for a repeat of that kiss, despite their mutual agreement that it couldn’t happen. But more than that, he just hoped Allie didn’t think he was avoiding her.
Though come to think of it, he hadn’t run into her again out and about, and she hadn’t texted him. Or called.
Speaking of . . . her car pulled into the lot behind them, and Allie got out, the hem of her long dress fluttering against her legs. She looked beautiful, but when did she not?
“I’ll meet you inside.” He nudged his sister along, determined to tell Allie the news about the change in the wedding lineup himself. She deserved to be warned, because he had a feeling walking back into that same church might be even weirder for her than for him.
He started toward her, and she offered a half smile that didn’t meet her eyes as she shoved her keys into her purse. “Hi.”
Something was definitely wrong. She probably thought he’d been avoiding discussing that kiss. He ran his hand over his jaw, eager to use the right words to put her mind at ease. “Allie, I didn’t—”
The spinning of gravel drowned out his apology. A blue four-door sedan pulled into the spot near Allie, and her face drained of color as the driver’s door popped open.
“No.” The word escaped and lingered on her lips, morphing into a half groan. He turned just as the backseat doors flew open. Several pairs of legs in panty hose slid out of the car, and he winced at the panic crossing Allie’s face.
Her family.
Then a look of horror replaced the panic as a tall, thin man slid out of the passenger side.
Allie marched slowly beside Marcus down the carpeted aisle to the front of the church, her shaking hand tucked inside his elbow. Hearing about his upgrade to best man hadn’t exactly done much to calm the nerves that had been shot at the sight of her family cruising into the parking lot like invited guests—including her mother’s new fiancé. How dare they?
Nor did it help the quiver in her legs as the reality of en
tering the church she’d once sprinted out of hit her full force.
Couldn’t Hannah have chosen a different venue?
Not to mention that this church aisle was clearly about three football fields long. Her palm grew slick against Marcus’s sleeve, and she briefly clenched her hand into a fist. They’d been walking this aisle forever, and each step just intensified how awkward the entire ordeal was. The former bride and groom, strolling casually toward the altar as maid of honor and substitute best man. Who would have thought?
God definitely had a sense of humor.
Her shoe caught in the thick carpet and she pitched forward, straightening as Marcus’s strong hand gripped her tighter.
Marcus deposited her on the top step with a brief squeeze of her arm, and she listened as the wedding coordinator stopped to instruct the sound man in the balcony when to press play for the unity candle song.
But all she could really hear was the not-so-whispered conversation going on between her mom, her aunt Shelly, and her grandmother, who all perched on the first pew of the bride’s section like it was already tomorrow evening and time for the wedding—which they also weren’t invited to.
Allie shifted the pretend bouquet Hannah had made them out of rolled-up newspapers, wishing she could hide her face behind it, and shot a glance at Marcus. If he hadn’t changed his mind about her already since their kiss, he surely would now. Who crashed a rehearsal? Her family’s true colors were bleeding all over the place.
His gaze appeared riveted to her family, all three women sitting there with legs crossed, feet bouncing, ashy blond or gray hair piled on top of their heads, smug smiles highlighting their intent—they were going to hit up the rehearsal dinner. If free food was involved, her aunt was all over it. And they were just tacky enough to do it, not caring about decorum or embarrassing Allie in the least.
A February Bride Page 6
