She plucked the white Griffin Media-embossed sticky note off of the stem and read out loud, "Call me. M.D."
Uh-oh.
Aubrey had no sooner plopped into her chair than Sara burst in and leaned against her desk wearing a devious grin. "I approve."
Still staring at the note, Aubrey asked, "Of what?"
Sara frowned at her. "John, of course." With a blossoming smile, she added, "He's adorable. I knew you two would end up together. I could tell at Chez Doug's."
Aubrey picked up the rose and sniffed it. "Yeah, he's pretty great."
"And he's already sending you flowers."
"Uh, no. This is not from John."
"Who's it from?"
Aubrey handed her the note. "Malcolm."
Sara read it and exhaled, "Oh boy."
"Yeah…"
"Did you call him?"
"No. Not yet. What am I supposed to say? 'I am uninviting you to the wedding'?"
"I can see your point. Well, John would understand if you brought a date, wouldn't he? You had asked Malcolm before you two started, you know, whatever it is you're doing."
Don't get me started.
Aubrey winced. "I don't think so."
Wrapping her arms around herself, Sara nodded. "Well, what's to say he hasn't already invited someone?"
Surprised by a sudden jolt of jealousy, Aubrey blurted, "He better as hell not have." Did I just say that? "Sorry."
Sara pursed her lips at her. "Aubs, is there something you're not telling me?"
The thought of divulging that she met, fell in love with, and agreed to marry someone all within the past forty-eight hours did not appeal to Aubrey. Especially with Mattie and Nick's wedding that weekend.
"No. It's all good."
Her friend studied her a moment longer before stating the real reason for her visit. "What are you wearing to the rehearsal on Friday night? I've never stood up in a wedding before, so I'm completely clueless."
"Oh. To tell you the truth, I haven't really thought about it, but probably a nice dress, a little on the fancy side but not too fancy. Especially since the dinner afterwards will be in the DeRosa's backyard."
"Good idea. That helps. Gotta run. Catch you later."
"Bye."
Left alone in her cubicle, Aubrey stared at the phone on her desk, wondering what to say to Malcolm.
Sorry. You took too long to reply.
Sorry. I had a falling out with the bride and am no longer attending.
Sorry. I'm engaged to another man.
She stared at her left hand. More specifically, the ring finger of her left hand. Her bare ring finger.
Aubrey picked up the phone and dialed Malcolm's number that she just so happened to have memorized.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Hey stranger."
Before that weekend, the sound of his voice would've turned her insides to mush. But now, not so much.
"Did you see my note?"
"Why, yes. Yes, I did. Thank you for the rose. It's lovely." Shoving it aside, she gripped the receiver. "Listen, Malcolm, I know I asked you on short notice, so—"
"I'd love to come."
Damn it all to hell.
Before she could react, he added, "You should've told me on Friday that Lester Crenshaw would be there. I would've accepted on the spot."
What a—
"Oops. Sorry, Aubrey. I've got to take this call. Go ahead and leave all the details with Rosalie, and I'll see you on Saturday. Thanks. Buh-bye."
Uh, how 'bout no?
She dropped the rose into the trash, looked up at the ceiling, and whispered, "What was I thinking?"
Such a jackass.
Rifling through her drawers, she found a sheet of paper with the Gazette letterhead on it and a matching envelope.
Malcolm, she wrote in her customary loopy print. I regret to inform you that something has come up, and I must retract my invitation to the wedding. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. All the best, Aubrey.
Without a care as to how many rules of etiquette she was breaking, how many bridges she was burning, or how many dollars in their future dream joint checking account she was sacrificing, she signed and folded the note, shoved it in the envelope, sealed it, and walked it over to his administrative assistant.
Who was not at her desk.
With an aggravated huff, Aubrey addressed the envelope to Malcolm and set it on her keyboard in plain sight.
What she needed now was to clear her head.
Work. Work would be good.
Returning to her cubicle, Aubrey logged onto her computer and started her write-up on Windy City Jumpers, filling in what she was able to from her first jump the day before.
* * *
"Is she here?" John asked as he leaned down to give Eugenia a kiss on the cheek.
"No, you just missed her, but she said she left something for you in the top drawer of her desk upstairs."
"Perfect."
"So who is she, mijo?" the housekeeper asked as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Do you love her?"
Through a cheek-splitting grin, he said, "Oh, yeah. Her name is Aubrey. She's amazing."
Eugenia gave him the same tentative smile that any loving mother would give. After a moment, she tugged hard on his hands. "And she loves you?"
He lifted both eyebrows. "She does. Can you believe it?"
Hugging the housekeeper, he lifted her a few inches off the ground and roared, "I'm so happy I can hardly stand it."
Sharing in his joy, Eugenia let out a laugh, but he could feel her concerned eyes on his back as he ascended the stairs, two steps at a time. He wouldn't have been surprised in the least if he were to turn and see her gripping her rosary in one hand while making the sign of the cross in the other.
Once he reached the second floor, he swerved left down the hallway that would take him to his gran's wing of the house. Stepping behind her antique William IV mahogany writing table, he tugged at the middle drawer.
There it was.
A dark red velvet ring box.
He picked it up and peeked inside at his great grandmother's wedding set. Mounted in fourteen-carat white gold, the engagement ring had a large raised brilliant-cut diamond in the center that was surrounded by a pair of marquis-cut, long diamonds The matching guard ring had similarly cut smaller stones. Retro but elegant.
When he snapped the box closed and tucked it into his pocket, his eyes fell on a white envelope on top of the desk with his name on it. He drew in a breath and picked it up, knowing it must contain the specific instructions from his father's will.
Carefully withdrawing the packet, the first item he unfolded was a handwritten note.
My dearest MacLyn, Congratulations on fulfilling your quest to find true love. You'll find my mother's wedding set in my middle desk drawer. If it needs to be resized, Mr. Worley is at the ready to assist. Given that your birthday falls on a Sunday this year, the marriage certificate must be dated no later than June 5th. I have called an emergency board meeting for Sunday at which the honorable Reverend James D. Hammerschmidt will preside over the nuptials. Please encourage your bride to bring her parents and a witness. A champagne brunch will be served, followed by a more elaborate celebration, the date and venue of which you may select at any time. Fondly, Gran
Appreciative of her support, John smirked at the idea of his gran meeting Aubrey's nana.
After a quick glance at the page from the will which stipulated that he marry by midnight on his 30th birthday before inheriting his fortune and assuming his place as head of Griffin Media, he folded it up and shoved the contents back into the envelope.
Glancing at the ornate desk clock, he saw it was only 9:15 a.m. On his way from the Gold Coast mansion to the CME Building downtown where he hoped to spend one of his last days as a professional window washer, he texted Aubrey. Can u meet for lunch?
A few strides later, she replied, Love to. When and where?
11:30 @ Dal
ey Plaza?
John figured it was a good halfway point between their work locations.
And right across the street from the county clerk's office.
* * *
The wind whipped down the Chicago River, chilling the deceptively sunny day as Aubrey crossed the Michigan Avenue Bridge. Grateful that she chose to wear flats instead of heels, she was seriously rethinking her decision to wear a skirt. Turning right, the wind whipped behind her as she made her way to Daley Plaza to meet John, the man she fell hard for over the weekend and to whom she needed to tactfully inquire whether or not she was engaged.
Not that she was even sure which response she was hoping for. On one hand, she'd be thrilled. Her gut told her the minute she looked into his eyes at Chez Doug's that he was the one for her. Then her nana, and all of the events that followed, pretty much confirmed it.
On the other hand, the thought of rushing into another engagement with a virtual stranger made her head pound harder than her shoes on the sidewalk.
Still, when you know, you know…right?
Abandoning the debate, she looked forward to making up for her rushed exit that morning and sharing the news about her imminent promotion. Deep in thought, she didn't even notice that she blew right by Malcolm's building without giving it a second look.
As crowded as the plaza was during the lunch hour, John was easy to spot in his sky-blue windbreaker. He came at her with an I'm so happy to see you look on his face that caused her heart to do a happy little flip as he approached.
"Hey, beautiful," he said as he lifted her in an embrace and spun her around.
Aubrey never realized how much she enjoyed public displays of affection before. Max wasn't the type.
Probably because he didn't want to get caught.
"They cancelled our job this morning because of the wind," John explained as they walked to an unoccupied bit of seating. "So me and some of the guys"—he paused and pointed to a few men in sky-blue windbreakers close to the Picasso sculpture, eating food from a nearby tamale stand—"heard there was this Latino Fest going on, and I thought I'd see if you were free."
She leaned into him. "I'm glad you did. I didn't get a chance to properly say good-bye this morning. Sorry for rushing out on you like that."
If he didn't look so dang happy to see her, she would've asked if he got paid on days he was unable to work because of the weather.
"How much time do you have?"
At that, she unleashed her own grin. "I'm pretty sure senior travel writers can take as long a lunch break as they want."
"Oh, you got it!"
He was downright exuberant.
"Well, no, not yet. I have to complete that jump on Wednesday first."
"Piece of cake," John smirked. "Congratulations. I'm really proud of you." He wrapped her in another hug. "We have so much to celebrate."
"Oh yeah? What happened to you today?" she asked expectantly, hoping against hope that he decided to find a safe, secure desk job somewhere, or maybe (and perhaps more likely) he had won some big jackpot in a hockey play-off pool.
His smile faltered.
Oh…I'm such an idiot.
Taking his face in her hands, she touched her forehead to his. "Did you really propose to me last night, or did I just have the best dream ever?"
She felt his cheeks spread into a grin under her palms, followed by his eyes. Then he pressed his lips against hers.
Sigh…
"You didn't answer my question," she said in a woozy whisper.
Straightening his left leg, he dug his hand into his jeans front pocket and pulled something out before dropping to one knee in front of her.
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she muffled out, "Oh my God."
"Aubrey Michelle—" he paused and waited for confirmation.
She nodded, "Yes, that's right."
Taking her left hand in his, he started over, his voice husky. "Aubrey Michelle Thomas, "would you do me the honor of being my wife?"
By this time a crowd had gathered. At least a dozen cell phones were capturing the special moment.
Through a quivering grin, Aubrey muttered, "I can't believe I'm doing this," before replying more resolutely, "Yes, John Trelawney. I will be your wife."
Poised to slide the ring onto her finger, John stopped smiling. When he looked away for a moment, it sounded very much to Aubrey like he said, "I can't do this."
She stopped breathing. "What did you say?"
By this time, a wall of cell phones surrounded them.
He looked up at her. "You deserve better."
Not sure which of the five thousand or so emotions raging within would win, she let out a confused, "What?"
John stood up. Wearing that familiar teasing smile, he pulled her to her feet. With a wave of his hand, a mariachi band emerged from the other side of the Picasso sculpture in the middle of the plaza and strolled towards them. The rest of his crew followed.
Once they had lined up behind him, he grinned. "That's better."
He dropped to his knee as she remained standing before him, still not sure what to make of the spectacle.
"Aubrey Michelle Thomas, I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you. I have no idea how I made it this far without you in my life. What I do know—with all my heart and all my soul—is that I don't want any part of a future that doesn't have you in it. If you would do me the honor of being my wife"—he paused and pressed his hand still clutching the ring to his chest—"you would make me the richest man in Cook County, maybe even the entire Midwest."
"Yes," she laughed, quashing the little voice in her head that whispered What an odd thing to say.
As soon as John stood and slid the ring onto her shaking finger, Aubrey threw her arms around his neck. Locked in his bear hug, she could hear the crowd of spectators cheer and the strings from the mariachi band start playing, "When I Fall in Love."
Setting her back on the ground, John whispered in her ear, "Now how 'bout that dance?"
When they had finished, he lowered her into a dip and gave her another kiss.
"You've swept me off my feet," she sighed as soon as he righted her.
"I haven't even started," he winked.
"Hey," Aubrey sighed, pulling him close as the spectators started to dissipate. "I hate to ask, but can we keep this under wraps for a few days? You know, just until after the wedding this weekend? I'd hate to steal Mattie and Nick's spotlight."
John halted. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. Absolutely."
Then he took her left hand in his and examined the ring. "Aw, I'm sorry. Is it too big? I can get it resized for you."
Before he had the chance to remove it, Aubrey asked him to wait. She hadn't even had the chance to get a good look at it. When she did, it took her breath away. "This is…stunning," was all she could say as she watched a rainbow of colors reflect off of the diamonds.
"Yeah, it was my great-grandmother's."
She held it up to admire it glistening in the midday sun. "I just love it. And I love you."
Leaning in to kiss him again, she caught one of his coworkers sweeping up next to John and tucking something into his jacket pocket before saying under his breath, "Winner takes all, man."
Aubrey pulled back and addressed him. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
The guy grimaced.
Busted.
She looked at John while she thrust a hand into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Winner takes all?"
For a split second, he looked away as if he was going to concoct a story. Something completely unrelated to their very special, albeit very public, engagement. But the second passed, and when he looked at her again, she knew she wouldn't get a story. She'd get the truth, no matter how bad it was.
"Cruz and I made a bet."
"On what…honey?" Aubrey could feel the straggling spectator's eyes move back and forth between them, as if they were watching tennis pros lob balls over a net.
"That I could get the next woman who noticed me to
marry me."
Her voice heavy with disbelief, she growled, "What?"
But John didn't say a word. He just stood there, stricken.
She dropped the wad of cash in front of John's buddy who was clearly conflicted as to whether or not he should stoop to retrieve it before it blew away.
Then she pulled off the ring.
"Aubrey, don't," John started. "It was nothing. It was a joke bet."
Beyond angry at herself, she spit out, "Sounds like a sucker bet to me."
With that, she tossed the ring high into the air, turned, and stormed off, wishing she had instead hurled it into the murky depths of the Chicago River on her way back to work.
Where I might just go directly to Malcolm's admin and rip that note to shreds.
When she heard him call her name from just steps behind her, she turned and snarled, "Do. Not. Follow. Me."
* * *
The next thirty-six hours went by in a blur. After accepting about a thousand apologies from Cruz, John went back to his apartment in a daze, wondering what to do next. All subsequent calls to Aubrey went right to voicemail. Despite leaving repentant message after repentant message, she did not reply.
By Wednesday, he was one unacknowledged text away from despondent.
Ringing the back doorbell at his gran's residence, he was pulled inside by Eugenia as soon as she took in his disheveled appearance. "What happened, mijo? Were you mugged?"
"Nah," he said quietly, his voice raw. "That would've been a thousand times better."
Accepting her hug, he didn't let go for a long time. When he did, all he said was, "I need to borrow your car."
* * *
"Are you sure you're OK to drive?" Teddy asked after she bounced into the front seat of the Volvo.
Aubrey looked straight ahead, her expression stoic. "Don't worry. I'm way past homicidal. I've moved on to resigned."
"Resigned?"
"That all men are jackasses. And I'm furious at myself for forgetting that. From here on out, I'm steering clear of every single one of them."
Teddy dug around in her purse and pulled out a big bag of Peanut M&Ms. Tearing a corner open, she held it out to Aubrey. "How 'bout some breakfast?"
Flight Risk Page 15
