Hold Me (Promise Me Book 1)

by Brea Viragh

  August was right; bitterness did not sit well on me and the longer I waited, the more bitter I became. Soon I wouldn’t be able to stand myself. It was time to make amends and eat a little crow.

  “I overreacted,” I told Duncan without preface after knocking on the door to his room. “And I’m ready to talk.”

  Duncan eyed me up and down, the short strands of his buzz-cut growing long and giving him the look of a reckless sergeant. “Come on in. I only walked in the door a few seconds ago.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I didn’t bother to look around. Hotel rooms boasted the same general style and layout, from the ubiquitous matching drapes and bedspread to the landscape and still life prints on the wall. At least this hotel had the decency to replace cracked bathroom tiles, unlike other establishments.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and settled until my feet fell firmly on the floor. Duncan continued to stand.

  After a moment of silent staring at our respective shoes, we both spoke at the same time.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I was a real jerk.”

  He chuckled and glanced up at me. “I wanted to come and talk to you, but I admit, I didn’t want to be the first one.”

  “Why do you think it took me this long to come over?” I cocked a rueful eyebrow. “I can’t say I’m sorry for my feelings, but I shouldn’t have reacted so poorly. I apologize.”

  Duncan’s sigh was a great gust of air strong enough to bow trees. “We both did. I understand why you were upset, but instead of being a shoulder for you to lean on I told you to suck it up. And I admit, I used my friendship with Leda to make you feel bad.”

  “You did.” I folded my hands on my lap. “But I’m the one who went out and got drunk instead of facing my problems.”

  “It was a little unnerving to see you come home like that,” he admitted. “When we lived together in California we never had these problems. Now, here,” he gestured, “we can’t seem to get on the same page.”

  “I know. August told me to stop focusing on the things I can’t change. To focus on the end goal instead of the speed bumps.”

  “Wise words.”

  “So,” I drew in a breath, “I’m going to try to deal with my stress a little better. It’s no use crying over things I can’t change, right?” I forced a grin, wishing Duncan would do something. Move closer, smile, anything. Instead he stood there like a telephone pole.

  “And I’ll try to help you carry some of these burdens instead of only going to work and coming back. I’ll try to be more man than machine.”

  Silence hung in the air between us, and I said something to break it. “So we are good now?”

  “We’re good now. I’ve missed you.”

  At last, the news I most wanted to hear. I could breathe again. “I missed you too.”

  “I can stop paying for a second room and come back, right?” Duncan looked around the space with a scowl. “Nights here aren’t inexpensive.”

  He’d set the air conditioner low and goose bumps burst to life with the chill. “You’re the one who wanted to move out to have some space. I’d like you to come and sleep with me again,” I said, rubbing my arms for warmth. “The place feels empty without you.”

  Duncan seemed satisfied with my words.

  “Who knows,” I continued, “I may even try to stop giving you a hard time about your clients.”

  He knew who I meant. At last Duncan shuffled closer to me to sit, the bed sagging under his weight. “I’m glad. Because you should know, I met with Leda again this afternoon.”

  I stiffened, keeping the grin in place by sheer force of will and looking like I wore a Halloween mask for my effort. “Oh yeah?”

  “Hey, isn’t it better you know now instead of hearing it from someone else?” Duncan adjusted the seat of his pants before grabbing my hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my skin. “Her old insurance company gave her issues with canceling the policy early, so we needed to sit down and have a long conversation with them. I didn’t want her paying extra money for switching.”

  I refrained from asking if anyone else had been in the meeting, a chaperone if you will. “You are too helpful. Way too damn helpful for your own good.”

  Duncan maneuvered me so his lips grazed mine, keeping hold of my chin with the palm of his free hand. I leaned into him, enjoyed the slightly spicy taste of male.

  “We’re good?” he asked against my lips.

  My grin was real this time. “Yes, we’re good.”

  His arms came around me with enough force to break bones. I drew him in before leaning my head on his shoulder. This was good, I knew. This was safe. The one constant in my crazy world.

  “How would you like to go out to dinner? I know a lovely place where chicken practically flies off the plate.”

  My next kiss had some bite. “Everybody loves a comedian.”

  **

  A week flew by without incident and I wish I could say it lasted. I also wish I’d taken the time to stop and enjoy the strange holding pattern Duncan and I found ourselves in for that time.

  There were no more portents of bad news. No added expenses piling up or people knocking on my door with straight jacket or scythe in hand ready to take me away. I wondered how long it would last and shouldn’t have said a damn thing about it. Lord knows I brought the trouble down on myself.

  I swallowed Duncan’s budding friendship with Leda the best I could, even when he went out to lunch more than he ate in. Even when he returned to the room smelling like her. However, my tenuous tolerance grew thin the more we spoke about the wedding, and the more we disagreed.

  “This is the last bakery in the area.” Duncan swung into the parking lot, staring up at the sign announcing in bold red letters our sugary destination.

  “Yeah, you’re telling me. Five bakeries later and all I have to show for it is a stomachache.” I rubbed my bloated belly and wondered dully if I’d pushed too far.

  “How was I to know you have to book so far in advance? You’d think they never heard of a shotgun wedding,” Duncan said. “The only one free was some shack on the side of the road called the Bimbo Bakery, and I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

  We’d been to five different places and been told the same story. They were engaged through the wedding season because apparently June was the month for nuptials. They say when you marry in June you’re a bride all your life. I couldn’t get my shit together long enough to be a bride once, let alone my entire life.

  Happy Monday to me.

  Each of the businesses we checked out—not many in our backwater neck of the woods—were booked in advance. Everyone had the same idea, which made me wonder how many trekked to the courthouse like I’d planned at first.

  To stick it to each bakery, I sampled their wares without purchase. And ended up without the satisfaction of a last laugh, in the form of indigestion.

  I squeezed Duncan’s hand before we got out of the car. “If this doesn’t work then we may have no choice but to go to the nearest grocery store and get a cake from them. I know you would hate it.”

  He frowned, listening to the mechanical ring of bells when I pushed the front door open.

  Our last shot was an out of the way brick building off the beaten path an hour and a half away from Heartwood. Simple and unadorned, I stared at the sign above the counter and prayed the owner had time to help.

  “If we’re going to buy something from the store, then why not get a box of cake mix and be done with it?” Duncan argued, his tone petulant. “I can whip up some batter as well as anyone.”

  “There you go. You’re catching on,” I teased while trying to avoid another argument.

  We both forced a happy face for the young woman reading behind the counter. She peered at us from beneath black bangs cut at an angle to hide her features.

  College student. Of course. Worse than hired labor.

  “Can I help you?” she asked unenthusiastically, setting down her textbook.
<
br />   Duncan glanced to me and back again. “We’re getting married.”

  The girl sighed. “Almost everyone walking through those doors is, sir.”

  “We’re getting married in three weeks and we need a cake.”

  She sighed again. “You do realize you haven’t left any time in your schedule? We’re booked through August with the orders coming in for wedding cakes.” She spoke low and unhurried, as if by rote, her voice accenting the wrong syllables.

  I gave her a bright smile. “You don’t think there’s any way to squeeze us in?” I tried sweet talk even though I’d rather go with the box mix for the convenience. At least then I wasn’t at the mercy of a freshman with a superiority complex.

  “Maybe there’s a spot for a simple one layer? Is your manager here?” Duncan wanted to know.

  Another sigh told us we were wasting her time. Any more exhalations and she’d pass out, lightheaded. “I’ll check with the owner. Val!”

  The name was shouted to the point I struggled not to cover my ears.

  “Val! There are some people here who wanna talk to you.”

  I held tight to Duncan’s hand. “She’s going to hate us for this.”

  “Watch,” he told me. “I know how to turn on the charm. Even though it hasn’t worked yet.”

  A man in his late forties rounded the corner, wiping his hands on his t-shirt and leaving white smears on black fabric. “Girl, how many times do I have to tell you not to yell? I’m just in the next room. If I can hear you burp, I can hear you speak. End of story.”

  He turned to Duncan and me before jerking his head so the strands of his hair fell flat. “Hello. I’m Val, pleased to meet you.”

  I smirked at Duncan, wondering how he planned to charm the man, and spoke for only him to hear. “Try to turn up the charm now.” Louder, I said to Val, “Nice to meet you as well. We have a wedding coming up and we need a cake.”

  He spread his arms wide to encompass the shop. “That’s my business.”

  “They want it done in three weeks.” Emo Girl emphasized the last two words and raised her brows as Val sucked in a breath.

  “Three weeks isn’t possible, I’m afraid. You look like a beautiful couple, but my schedule is booked up!” Val pouted in an insincere show of pity. “We require at least five months’ notice for occasions of this type, if you want it done right. We don’t create cakes here. We create works of art, culinary delights. Works of art are time consuming. And expensive.”

  I turned to Duncan. “Let’s go. I’m sure one of the girls at the County Corner will know someone who can do it for much cheaper and faster in their kitchen.”

  My claim had Val bristling. “I’m not sure I appreciate your insinuation.”

  “It’s nothing against you, sir, but we knew we were pushing it when we started this venture and you were our last hope,” I responded.

  Duncan refused to give up. “We only need something about yea big.” He held his hands up to indicate the size of a shoebox.

  “If you only wanted something yea big,” I quoted him, “then why are we bothering with a baker in the first place? Like you said, buy a box of cake mix from the store and I can do it, or let me talk to the girls at work. I’m sure plenty of women in Heartwood get married without a baker to design their wedding cake.”

  Duncan leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “Because I don’t trust the women you work with not to poison us.” He straightened. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to slip into your schedule? We have almost one hundred guests.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s impossible. I can recommend a baker in Bloomingfield who does last minute orders.” Val tapped his shoe on the floor.

  “Bloomingfield is too far away.” At least another five hours by car and across the state line, to be exact. “And Kelly and Beulah wouldn’t poison us. At least, I don’t think they would.”

  Duncan and I bickered back and forth for a minute, ignoring the audience around us. To shut him up I grabbed a piece of cake from a sample platter and shoved it into his mouth.

  “I’m sorry we wasted your time,” I told Val and his assistant. Grabbing Duncan by the elbow, I dragged him toward the door still chewing.

  “For the love of all things holy, hold on.”

  The statement came as I put my hand on the knob.

  “I may have a free moment between the Shaker and Doppleman weddings on June 30. I’m sure I can whip up a two-layer without any trouble.” Val sighed again, his foot tapping impatiently. “What’s a baker’s job if not to have compassion for the poor?”

  Duncan’s smile was so wide it appeared painful. Amidst his happy exclamations, I hurried back to the counter and, decorum be damned, grabbed Val in a hug.

  “Bless you!”

  His fingertips grazed my shoulders in his version of an embrace. “Certainly, darlin’. That’s what I’m here for.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You shouldn’t have pushed Val,” I admonished Duncan the moment we pulled back out onto the main highway. “I mean, I’m happy he agreed to help us, but the price he quoted for the last-minute inconvenience makes it feel less like a victory and more like a compromise. With the chips stacked on his side. You were too pushy and he bumped up the price.”

  “Hey, we got the wedding cake, which is half the battle. The cake we deserve. I’m surprised you didn’t take care of this business sooner.” Duncan checked his mirror before changing lanes.

  I pressed a hand to my chest. “I didn’t take care of it sooner?”

  “You told me you could do it, and when you didn’t, it put us in a pickle. You’re lucky I had some time today so we can get it all done.” He pressed a pair of dark sunshades onto his eyes. “Trust a man to finish the job.”

  I scoffed. “You make it sound like I needed you to hold my hand.”

  “Didn’t you?” He spared me a look and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “If I hadn’t come today, we would have had to go with plan B.”

  “If you mean the supermarket, then we should have gone there in the first place. Although I think Beulah would do a better job with the cake. I would rather trust my coworkers with our lives and have a product people will happily eat, since they’ll be the only ones besides August willing to come to our shoddy wedding.”

  “I guess I meant plan C, then. Leda told me she’s trying to start a cupcake company from her house. She’s been saving up money for a storefront. I didn’t want to tell you before because I knew you would be angry.”

  “And you want to talk about poisoning! I’d be dead before I say ‘I do’!” I exclaimed. “Why would you think I want her anywhere near my wedding?” It was supposed to be my special day, wasn’t it? No way was I comfortable standing at the altar knowing Leda was sitting there, staring at me.

  “Our wedding,” Duncan emphasized, “and that’s why it was a backup plan. I knew you’d be ticked off. I told her if we couldn’t find anyone then she’d be hired. Maybe she can still do something for me, like a groom cake. Those are real things, right?”

  My lips twisted like I’d eaten a sour gummy. “You invited her already.”

  “I figured since you invited August, she would naturally be attending as well. They are an item.”

  “Yes, they are an item. But you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with her lately.”

  “We’re friends, Iz,” he said. “Friends talk to each other. It’s the natural order of things. You see how I’m not upset at you for spending time with August? It’s the same deal.”

  “Well,” I held up a finger, “August and I have known each other since childhood, which trumps your piddling two-week acquaintance with Leda. And you did try to beat him up.”

  Duncan laid a hand on my leg, flicking the turn signal with the other. “I beat him up before I knew him. Trust me, honey. Leda and I are friends in the strictest sense of the word. It’s perfectly natural for a man and a woman to talk business when he helps her save on insurance.”

 
I’d never known such a declaration to be true but I found myself nodding. There were other, more important things to focus on than my status as a hypocrite.

  “If you insist.”

  There were a million other items to concentrate on instead of jealousy. I’d taken care of flowers, at least in part, by a trip to the craft store where I was guaranteed anything I liked. In season, no less, and able to last a lot longer than a few days. I’d had little luck with the venue, though I managed to convince August to let me use his field. A few well-placed logs strung with twinkle lights and bam! Altar.

  I was proud of my ingenuity and hoped Duncan felt the same when I told him. His desire for a large affair didn’t mean I had to be extravagant. I’d heard minimalist was the rage now. Although I felt sure if Duncan realized the extent of my miserliness, he’d put his foot down.

  And he said I never took care of anything.

  Duncan swung into the hotel parking lot thirty minutes later, the car grinding to a halt in a sure sign the brakes would soon need replacing.

  “You go on in,” he told me. “I have a few things to do and then I’ll be home.”

  I heaved myself up from the seat with stomach grumbling from too many cake samples. “What kind of things?” Wind blew strands of wavy locks into my eyes and I blinked them away.

  “Just a few things. I won’t be long.” Duncan pursed his lips at me, his version of a kiss, and smiled when I slammed the door shut.

  “Bring me back some Tums!” I shouted at the car as an afterthought.

  I hoped the surprise was for me, although with my luck lately, I wouldn’t hold my breath.

  Another surprise came in the form of the visitor standing in front of the door to our room with her fist poised to knock. I recognized the shock of chin-length hair accompanied by knockout hips and tried my hardest not to scowl. I felt like Val’s assistant as I sighed, tromping up the stairs and closing the distance between us.

  “Hi, Leda. It’s wonderful to see you.” I hoped the fake cheer wasn’t too obvious. “What are you doing here?”’

  She whirled around and the same look on her face adorned my own. False sincerity. “Isabel! Great, you’re here. So wonderful to see you again as well!”