by Jill Winters
To boost her confidence, Reese was wearing a low-cut, black wraparound dress and silver high heels. She'd also put on a silver heart necklace that had never particularly brought her luck, but she liked to pretend it was her good-luck charm. She'd done the whole red-raspberry Chap Stick thing again, but this time it was just for her.
Kenneth came through the rotating glass doors and approached efficiently. "Hello, Reese. How are you?" he said, and handed her a red rose.
"Hi. Oh, thank you," she said, smiling, and feeling pretty uncomfortable. "How was the drive?"
"It was very good, thank you. Not too much traffic."
"Oh, great," she supplied lamely. "Well... do you wanna get going? We're meeting everyone in the dining room."
"Yes. That sounds good."
Everyone was already seated at the table when Kenneth and Reese arrived, and everyone said hi except Brian.
"I'd like you all to meet Kenneth—my date," Reese said brightly.
Brian locked his jaw, and opened his menu.
"Oh, I'm so glad you could make it!" Joanna gushed.
"Kenneth," Michael stated, "good to see you again. Glad you could join us." Kenneth cleared his throat and mumbled something quasi-gracious.
At that moment, Reese decided to play up this Kenneth thing for all it was worth.
"Brian, you remember Kenneth, don't you?" she said, forcing him to acknowledge them.
"Yeah, hi," he said curtly.
"Oh, you've met Kenneth?" Joanna asked Brian conversationally.
"Yes," Reese said, "they met at the bookstore last week. Kenneth stopped in to say hi, and I introduced them."
"Oh, you and Reese know each other?" Veronica asked, sounding surprised.
Brian started to answer when Reese cut him off. "No, we don't—believe me." She and Kenneth took their seats at the table, and Reese stole another look over. Brian was staring at his menu with his cheek clenched, and she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction.
When she looked down at her own menu, all the words blurred together.
"What's that flower, sweetheart?" Joanna asked.
"Oh, this?" Reese said, holding up the rose for everyone to see. "Kenneth gave it to me—wasn't that sweet?" She leaned into him a little, beaming.
Lane said, "Well, aren't you two cute."
Brian still wasn't looking at her. He was busy studying his damn menu like it was a physics textbook.
"Baby, what do you think you'll get?" Angela said, leaning over to share Drew's menu.
He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss on her temple. "I don't know, babydoll; what will you get?"
Huh? Had Reese missed something crucial here? Angela and Drew were holding hands on top of the table, and appearing more blissful than ever. Reese would definitely have to grill her sister for details as soon as she got a chance.
Drew smiled amiably at Reese. "Hey, Angela told me you got a room at the hotel for yourself. You wanted a taste of the good life, huh?"
She grinned with self-deprecation. "Oh, yeah. I'm a real hedonist."
"You've got a room?" Aunt Aileen asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "What do you need one of those for?"
Joanna said, "Oh, she's in room eight-sixteen, so if anyone needs anything before the ceremony, or anytime, just ask Reese." She smiled brightly at her daughter, thanking her for volunteering, which of course she hadn't.
"By the way, sweetheart," Joanna went on, pushing her luck as always, "without you biting my head off, have you prepared your toast for tomorrow?"
"What toast?" Aunt Jacy asked.
"Oh, we're having Reese, as the maid of honor, say a few words at the reception," Joanna explained.
"But aren't you the maid of honor, too?" Aunt Aileen asked Angela.
"Yeah, but—"
"Public speaking is Reese's thing," Joanna explained matter-of-factly.
Right. If public speaking were Reese's thing, why couldn't she think of a damn thing to say to Brian right now? All she could manage was to shoot him daggers with her eyes (and he wasn't even looking, of course).
"You know what would be a good idea?" Jacy said. "For the best man and the maid of honor to say something together. I saw that at a wedding once, and I thought it was real cute."
Reese's head shot up, and now she caught Brian watching her. Intently. Powerfully. She couldn't tell if it was anger she saw in his eyes or hunger, but it didn't matter, because just as soon, the spell was broken. Veronica put her hand on his arm; she might as well have dumped ice water on Reese's head.
"What do you think?" Jacy asked, tapping Brian on the arm.
"What? I'm sorry, I missed that."
"We're suggesting that you and Reese say a few words together tomorrow," Aileen explained, as she opened up a presumably vegan vacuum-sealed bag. "What do you think, Benny? Isn't that a good idea?"
Ben was busy assailing the bread basket, and didn't seem to have much of an opinion at the moment. Ally said, "I don't know, you guys; that's kind of putting him on the spot."
"Oh... no, it's okay," Brian offered. "I'd be happy to."
Jacy smiled and said, "What a nice boy."
Hmm. Reese thought about the way Brian had kissed her, felt her breasts, rubbed his groin into her crotch, and she couldn't help noting that the last thing he was, was a boy.
"But it has to be prepared together," Jacy went on, opening her own vacuum-sealed pouch. "That was the whole reason it was so cute—remember Aileen, at Tory's wedding?"
"Mmm-hmm, it was so darn precious," she agreed, smelling her water before sipping.
"I don't think that's going to work," Reese said, unable to hold her tongue any longer, "Um, Brian and I really don't even have time to prepare something now."
"Well, it doesn't have to be anything fancy, sweetheart," Joanna said, "Just make sure you run it by me before the ceremony."
"May I get anyone something to drink?" their waiter asked, coming out of nowhere. That deflected the conversation, as everyone ordered their drinks.
Reese glanced down the table and found Brian watching her again. As if on cue, Veronica slid her arm through his, and leaned in close to look at his menu. Brian didn't seem to respond, but it didn't matter, because Veronica's intimate gesture only served as a reminder of all that stood between them.
So, in mature fashion, Reese did the only thing she could do—she slid her arm through Kenneth's and thanked him again—loudly—for the flower.
Brian's eyes shot up, as Kenneth explained some of the socially constructed signification of a red rose, and analyzed possible origins. And Reese stared doe-eyed, as though astounded by his brilliance.
"That's so fascinating," she said, making sure the whole table heard. "Tell us more."
Brian clenched his cheek tighter. Then he nudged a little closer to Veronica and asked, "Do you want to split an appetizer?"
Reese's jaw dropped. Split an appetizer! If that wasn't the most couple-y thing in the world, she didn't know what was.
Fine, she hoped they choked on it. Well, just enough to turn blue. She sipped her cabernet sauvignon to keep from cursing, and tried to steady her nerves. No matter what, she'd have to get a tougher skin, because it was obviously going to be a very long night.
Chapter 25
Brian said good-night to Veronica in the parking lot of the Goldwood Villa Hotel. They had taken separate cars, because when Veronica had called his cell earlier, and he'd mentioned that he was on his way to the rehearsal, she'd insisted upon meeting him there. Truthfully, he hadn't known how to dissuade her, especially after she'd told him that she had been crying all day about Uncle Martin, and the rehearsal was the only thing that would take her mind off things.
But it wasn't just that he didn't want to hurt her feelings. After finding out that Reese already had a boyfriend—and has had one the whole time, for chrissake—he figured he had every right to take Veronica. Really, why should he sit there alone, watching Reese with her boyfriend, and eating his heart out?
&n
bsp; Anyway, that had been his thought process at the time, but none of it really mattered because the whole night had been awful.
Climbing into his Saturn, he released a sigh and started the engine. Absently, he turned on 92.3 and pulled onto Route 46, heading east.
He couldn't believe that Veronica was acting like they were this happy little couple when they weren't even back together yet. Yeah, they'd agreed to keep the door open, but rekindling a serious relationship was not something he could do impulsively. Well, he could, and apparently Veronica would like nothing more, but Brian knew that would be dumb as hell. They hadn't slept together even once since their breakup, and they wouldn't unless they were on solid ground again, because it would only be asking for trouble.
Why couldn't she see that they needed to think it through? Actually, Brian was about to ask her just that when they said good-bye in the parking lot, but she'd beaten him to the punch with: "Thanks for letting me lean on you tonight, Bri. I don't know what I'd do if you turned on me right now—if I had to face everything alone. I honestly don't know what I'd do."
Jesus, what was he supposed to say to that?
Not to mention, it made him damn uncomfortable that she was resting so much on his shoulders. Veronica had friends and relatives up to her eyeballs, so why couldn't she turn to any of them, too? Why did she always make it sound like, without him, she was on the verge of committing suicide?
At this point, he was torn between sympathizing and getting irritated beyond belief with her emotional blackmail. Only, whenever he got really irritated, guilt would kick in, and then he was back to square one.
It certainly hadn't helped that at dinner, he'd acted more romantic with Veronica than usual just to spite Reese. Real mature, jackass, he thought angrily. How did he have the balls to blame Veronica, and then turn around and give her the totally wrong idea?
Not that he'd intended to do it, but when he'd heard Reese going on about how "sweet" her dorky boyfriend was, he'd lost all common sense.
Except... wait...
Something just didn't add up.
If that guy Kenneth was her boyfriend, then why did she have to introduce him to everyone tonight? How serious could they possibly be if the others didn't know him already? In fact, she hadn't even referred to him as her "boyfriend"—she'd called him her "date."
And what about the way she kept looking over at Brian during dinner? Of course, that could've been because she could feel him staring at her. For chrissake, he could barely take his eyes off her the whole dinner—not that her low-cut dress helped. But, in truth, he'd been too preoccupied with a well of disturbing emotions to stare glazed-eyed at her cleavage.
In a bizarre way, he actually wanted to be angry with her. But he also wanted to grab her and hug her, and he wanted that a whole lot more. In fact, that was what he really wanted.
Thinking about Reese with Kenneth was killing him. Thinking about her with any other man but him was really killing him. How could he just let her go like this? Oh, hell, that was stupid; he'd never even really had her. So why did he feel like he'd completely blown it?
All right, that was it; he needed some answers. Once cars started honking behind him, he realized the light had turned green, and he stepped harder on the gas pedal than he needed to. He sped down another half mile, before veering off to the right, winding around the U-turn, and getting on 46 west. He was going back.
Mrs. Brock had said that Reese was in room 816. She would be up there now... what would she be doing? And would she be doing it alone? Involuntarily, he tightened his grip on the wheel. He had to talk to her—to see her, to clear the air. And anyway, they'd half agreed to say a few words together at Ally and Ben's reception tomorrow... shouldn't they at least have a clue what they were going to say?
Yeah, that would be his excuse for going back to the hotel. For showing up at her door—for needing her so much.
* * *
Back in room 816, Reese was bored out of her mind. She had changed into pajama pants, and the "Jem and the Holograms" tank top she'd gotten at the shore when she was seventeen. The tank was so faded, she could barely tell if it was Jem or Jerica, but it was comfortable, despite how tightly it fit around her breasts.
But she was so tense, she couldn't relax, and she couldn't concentrate on her writing, which made her one big ball of unproductive frustration. Even the fact that she had nothing else to do besides work on her computer provided zero incentive. She felt stifled and claustrophobic and powerless to change it.
So she started fiddling with her hair.
And before she knew it, she had crooked rows of braids running all over her head.
Okay, now what? She flopped back on her bed, stared at the ceiling for endless minutes, and sat up again, still devoid of ideas. She'd said good-bye to Kenneth shortly after dinner, and her family had left the hotel then, too. The last she'd seen, Brian and Veronica were heading out toward the parking lot.
She shuddered to imagine what they were doing now back in the city. Probably they were in Brian's apartment, in Brian's bed, pawing at each other with renewed passion. Blech! It was ridiculous that her blood boiled at the thought of Brian even so much as kissing Veronica, when clearly, after eight years together, they'd done a lot more than that. They'd probably done any and every sexual thing known to man and woman.
Okay, this was not making her feel better.
She twisted her hands in her lap, and tried not to think about how sleek and graceful and skinny and blond Veronica was—how Reese had no prayer of competing with her, with the history she shared with Brian, with any of it. Well, fine.
Expelling a sigh, Reese picked up the women's magazine Ally had left in her room earlier, but all the articles were about sex, so that was out. She walked across the room and switched on the television. She flipped around and found nothing. Could she even catch a small break?
A sudden knock at the door startled her. Who... oh, no, if Joanna gave out Reese's room number to any out-of-town guests arriving early, she was literally going to cry. Or pretend not to be here, she reasoned, as she crept over to the peephole.
It was Brian! What was he doing there? He was the last person she expected to show up on her doorstep. And where was his precious Veronica?
Reese ran back over to shut the TV off, then back to the door, taking in a couple of Lamaze-like breaths. Straightening her posture, and going for an unreadable expression, she turned the handle.
When the door swung open, it revealed Brian in full, breathtaking form. He was leaning against the doorjamb, with his tie loosened, looking slightly rumpled, but sexy enough to devour. (Please, who needed it?)
"Hi," he said flatly.
"Hello," Reese said, matching his tonelessness, but feeling her heart slam against her chest. "What are you doing here? I thought you went back to the city already."
"What'd you do to your hair?" he asked.
Only after she touched a hand to her head did she remember her winding cornrows. "Oh... I was bored." She fake-cleared her throat a la Kenneth Peel, and went on the offensive. "Well? Can I help you with something?"
"Yeah." He pushed himself upright and moved past her, into her room.
"Oh, please, make yourself at home. Care for some macadamia nuts from the minibar?" She shut the door, and watched him stop at the foot of her bed, pausing before he turned to face her.
Then her breath caught in her throat—it was the way he was looking at her. Her mouth ran dry. She licked her lips nervously, and then realized that it probably made her look as desperate as she felt. Get it together; he's a jerk.
"I came over to prepare that toast," he said.
Toast? What, was every person in her life obsessed with that damn toast? Brian had come to her room for that?
Wait a minute... unless... maybe... could it just be an excuse to come over? Her heart galloped against her ribs again, and she struggled to act unaffected. "Brian, I'm not preparing a toast with you," she said coldly.
"But
everyone wants us to say something together. You heard them at dinner."
"Well, I'm gonna say something, and you can go twist in the wind for all I care." She crossed her arms over her breasts and watched something flicker in his eyes.
"That's not exactly what they're expecting," he said, and took a step closer to her. "And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not make an ass of myself."
"Too late," she muttered.
"What?" he asked, moving closer, with an odd look on his face. It was like the faintest trace of amusement, combined with something far more intense.
"Forget it," she said quickly.
He moved closer still. "No, really, I'm curious."
Okay, now he was just plain crowding her (and she felt like she could finally breathe). Inhaling sharply, she said, "It means that I thought you made a spectacle of yourself at dinner. The way you and your girlfriend were carrying on—it was... well, to be honest, nauseating."
"Really?" he said, crossing his arms now.
"Yes, really," Reese said, and brushed past him, shivering from the contact as their arms rubbed against each other.
"Can you elaborate a little?" he asked, reaching out to pull her back. His grip was firm, but there was a gentleness about it that she'd come to recognize as Brian's touch. The heat from his hand burned on her bare arm. She made a flimsy attempt to pull free, for pride only, because of course she wanted his hands on her. "Well?" he said.
"Look, Brian, I don't know how you and your girlfriend normally act in public—maybe you always fall all over each other like that—but I, for one, found it offensive."
"Offensive?" Brian said, dropping her arm, but still possessing her by moving closer, taking her space and her air and her sanity, and staring at her—into her—as she tried to move away, but her feet wouldn't cooperate.
"Please," she said, "splitting an appetizer? Everyone at that table was disgusted!"
He plowed his hand through his hair, and sighed with obvious frustration. Meanwhile Reese forced herself to hold her ground, because she was afraid that if she didn't, she'd fall apart. "Look, Brian, if you and your girlfriend want to—"
