Forgotten Honeymoon (Best Friends Wedding Series)

by Beverly Farr

  “I told you I love you.”

  “One measly time, and only because I had you cornered. I had to drag the words out of you.”

  “I meant it.”

  “Then why haven’t you said it since then? I’ve given you dozens of opportunities.”

  “I’m not glib like Nigel. Words are hard.”

  “I need words, Lars.”

  He knew that, but it was easier to say nothing than to say the wrong thing.

  “On our wedding night, every time I said I loved you, you kissed me, keeping me distracted. And the next morning when I asked you -- I specifically asked you why you married me -- you said nothing.” She slammed the suitcase shut and locked it. “Is it just sex with us?”

  “A lot of happy marriages have started with less.”

  Her green eyes flashed. “I don’t want a marriage based on duty and obligation.”

  Neither did he. But he’d already told her he loved her and she didn’t believe him. What more could he say?

  “And I don’t want to stay, knowing that any minute you could file for a divorce.”

  Lars felt as if she’d struck him. “What are you talking about?”

  “The papers. I saw the divorce papers at your office.”

  “I have no intention of filing for a divorce.”

  “Then why are you holding onto them?”

  “Because I thought you might want to divorce me.”

  “I see. Because I asked for a divorce before.” She shook her head. “What about you, Lars? What do you want from me, from our marriage? Because I’m in the dark, here. I have no clue why you do what you do. What do you want?”

  He wanted so much, it was impossible to put into words. “I want you to be happy, Kelly.”

  “Fine. Then get out of my way.” She pulled the suitcase off the bed.

  He felt as if someone had turned the calendar back five months. “Where are you going?” he asked finally.

  “I’m not sure. But trust me, I can handle this. I don’t need some knight in shining armor riding to the rescue.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Kelly slapped a ball of clay on the base of her wheel. She didn’t want Lars’ pity or kindness, and that’s all he felt for her.

  For weeks now, she’d been telling herself everything would work out. She could compromise, she could wait. But how could she stay married to a man who didn’t love her and never had?

  They were back where they were in March, except now there was a baby to consider.

  She wet her hands and the clay, and centered the clay, using her hands and the motorized motion of the wheel to form a cone. She started at the base of the cone, and pressed the heel of her hand into it, gently coaxing it into shape.

  “Kelly?”

  It was her mother. Kelly left the wheel, wiped her wet hands on her maternity jeans, and walked over to unlock the front door. “Hi, Mom,” she said, as she opened the door. “Come on in.” This was a surprise. She could count on one hand the number of times her mother had made the half hour drive over to her studio. “What brings you here?” she asked, wondering if her mother would tell her the truth.

  Margaret walked in, her high heeled shoes clicking on the cement floor. “We need to plan a baby shower,” she said bluntly.

  “Couldn’t it wait until morning? It’s a little late for you to be driving around.” It was already dark outside, and she knew her mother didn’t have the best night vision.

  Her mother glanced at the mattress on the work room floor. “It’s late for you, too,” she said pointedly. “Are you planning to spend the night here?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “Hmmm.”

  From the sound, she knew her mother didn’t approve.

  “I talked to Lars tonight,” Margaret continued. “He said you might be here.”

  Kelly asked, “How did he sound?”

  “Not happy.”

  Kelly drew her breath in sharply. She knew she was making everyone miserable, but there didn’t seem to be a good solution to her problems. Should she let Lars sacrifice himself for her? Ultimately, wouldn’t he grow to resent her?

  Her mother looked around. “Don’t you have any chairs, yet?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Kelly quickly offered her the one chair in the house, and her mother sat down. Kelly sat cross legged on the floor.

  “Kelly, you can tell me, whatever the problem is,” her mother said quietly. “I know you and your father have some idea that I’m too weak to handle real life, but so far, I’m doing fine.”

  Kelly felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t realized that her mother noticed. “I’m sorry, Mom. I guess we wanted to protect you.” Just as Lars wanted to protect her.

  But she didn’t want protection from life. She wanted the truth, and someone willing to work along side her. Belatedly she realized that’s what her mother deserved, too. So much for good intentions.

  She took a deep breath. “It’s hard to know where to start, but I’ll begin with the car accident.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened with fear. “A car accident? Were you hurt?”

  “Not much, but I forgot nearly three weeks of my life ....”

  Her mother listened patiently while Kelly explained the situation, then asked, “So what’s the problem? You’re married to a man you love, and you have a baby on the way. It sounds good to me.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Lars felt sorry for me. He was only with me because Dad sent him after me to rescue me. I was part of his job.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “No, but he doesn’t love me. I’ve given him dozens of chances to tell me, and he didn’t.” Until today, she mentally added, but she didn’t believe him. He was just telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.

  “The words aren’t as important as the actions. Does he act like he loves you?”

  She thought of the night she’d gone dancing, their dinner party, buying the crib together. Making love. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But other times, he’s so distant. I worry that he’s only staying with me out of obligation.”

  “You love him so desperately and it kills you to have him feel anything less.”

  Kelly tucked her hair behind her ears. She nodded. “Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “No, pretty normal.” Her mother smiled. She gave her daughter a kiss. “You’re two intelligent, capable people. I’m sure you’ll work it out. We can talk about the baby shower another day. Brenda wants to host it.”

  She gave her Mom another hug. “Thanks, Mom.”

  #

  A few hours later, Lars knocked on the door. “Can I come in?” He stood on her doorstep, uncertain of his welcome.

  Her heart ached at the sight. No matter what had happened between them, no matter how they’d resolve their problems, she wanted to remain his friend, if possible. “Go ahead.” She sat down at the wheel. When throwing a pot, it was best to keep working. If she stopped, the clay would dry out. But that wasn’t the real reason she kept the wheel spinning.

  The clay gave her something to do with her hands, to keep her from running to Lars, hugging him, and crying all over him. For once, they needed to talk rationally, without letting their passions take over.

  He stood for a moment, watching her as she guided the clay into a large round disc. “What are you making?”

  “A serving bowl.” She worked, bringing up the sides gradually, molding the clay between her thumb on the inside of the bowl and her middle finger on the outside. “You’ll be pleased to know that Sarah Crosby has commissioned thirty big bowls and fifty little lidded canisters.” She was proud of herself for speaking so calmly.

  “That’s wonderful.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.” Two days ago, she’d been so happy at the prospect of surprising Lars with the news, but now it didn’t seem very important. What did she care if KPots became successful, and her marriage died?

  She relaxed the pressure between her fingers creating a rounded lip for
the bowl. Then she finished the edge, smoothing off any rough spots.

  “Very nice,” Lars said admiringly. He sat on the floor, watching her.

  It was okay, she thought critically, but not one of her best pieces. She wanted more rounded sides, but it was difficult to concentrate with Lars sitting so close. “Sarah also thinks I should be making the bases for lamps.”

  “If you’re going to do that, you need to talk to Rawlins’ Product Development and the Marketing Department first.”

  She’d known he’d say something like that. She said wryly, “Don’t worry. If I do go into the lamp business, I’ll give you first right of refusal.”

  “Good.”

  She washed her hands, then separated the bowl from the wheel, by cutting it with a taut wire. She carefully carried the bowl into the back room to dry.

  When she came back to the wheel, he asked, “When are you coming home?”

  Apparently he wasn’t interested in watching her make pots all evening. She stared at the lump of clay in her hands, avoiding his steady gaze. “I don’t know. Right now, our house isn’t much of a home.”

  He drew his breath in sharply. “Are you going back to Nigel?”

  It angered her that he could even ask that after their past few months together. Hadn’t she told him that she loved him and not Nigel? But then, she remembered, she’d waffled before, asking for the divorce the day after they got married. She was paying the price for her rashness.

  She said, “No, I’m not going back to Nigel. Even if I wanted to, he’s with Tiffany now.”

  “He’d leave her for you.”

  “For my money, you mean. He never loved me.”

  “He is a fool.”

  She smiled at that. “Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t care about Nigel any more.”

  He stood, silent, watching her, waiting. Was that the only reason he’d come, to find out if she was going back to Nigel? Was this all about pride?

  “Could I do that?” he asked after a minute. “Could I learn to throw a pot?”

  She was surprised. In all the times he’d been to her studio, he’d never asked. “Sure, if you want to,” she said. “Have a seat.” She held up her muddy hands. “It’s pretty messy, though.”

  He smiled. “I’m not afraid of a little dirt.”

  She thought of how he’d saved her from the falling tree. No, she didn’t think he was afraid of anything.

  She knelt beside him, showing him how to turn on the motorized wheel with his foot and how to guide the clay with his hands. It was a little awkward, trying to work around him and her baby bulge, but he shifted, she drew closer, enjoying the feel of him and his clean male scent, and somehow they made it work.

  He pressed his thumb into the rotating disc of clay to open it, but then he didn’t hold his hands steady and the walls of the makeshift bowl wobbled unevenly. He lifted up his hands. “This is harder than it looks.”

  Kelly reached around him and placed his hands back on the clay, guiding them with her own. “I’ve had years of practice,” she said. “And I still make mistakes. The secret is to be patient and work with the clay instead of forcing it.”

  “Like us.” The words were quietly spoken.

  Kelly’s hands faltered, and the sides of the bowl ripped. What a mess. She’d added too much water to mold it into another pot without making it structurally weak. “Let’s start over,” she said clearly. She scraped the old clay off the wheel and left it on the kitchen counter to dry out. She came back with a new lump. “Here we go,” she said cheerfully as she dried the wheel with a towel. “This time, we’ll work slower.”

  “No running off to Reno?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “I’m afraid I’m better at pots than I am at marriage,” she said finally.

  Lars’ gaze met hers. “Then we’ll both learn as we go,” he said.

  She wished it could be that easy. “Let’s make the pot first, okay?”

  They worked together quietly, with her showing him how to hold his hands, then leaning back and letting him work. Lars was a little stiff at first, but gradually he relaxed, and the bowl emerged like a phoenix from the clay base. No matter how many times she threw pots, it always felt like some magic was involved.

  “There.” She wiped the excess water out with a sponge. “Now you have a nice big bowl for your cereal.”

  “This is fun,” he said with surprise.

  She smiled. He had a streak of mud across his forehead, where he’d wiped a hand, and there was a splotch on his white shirt. “Yes, it is. That’s why I enjoy it. To me, it really isn’t work.”

  “Are you willing to take on an apprentice at KPots?”

  She shook her head. “You wouldn’t really want to leave Rawlins, would you?”

  “No,” he said honestly. “I enjoy it, as much as you enjoy this.” He smiled and held up his muddy hands, like a surgeon who was prepped for surgery. “Now what do we do?”

  She carefully removed the raw clay bowl from the wheel. “I’ll let this dry and then fire it. Then I apply the glaze and fire it again. What color do you want it?”

  “You made a blue and white striped plate I like. I’d like it to match that.”

  She nodded. “Can do.” She carried his bowl to the back room.

  Later, they stood at the kitchen sink, washing their hands and drying them on towels. Kelly handed him a damp cloth and pointed to her forehead, letting him know he had a spot.

  Lars wiped his face, then laid the cloth out smooth on the counter. He said carefully, “Today you asked me what I want from you and our marriage. Do you still want to know?”

  She’d known they couldn’t avoid talking forever. She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and looked into his light blue eyes. “Yes. I was so mad earlier, I didn’t give you a chance to talk.”

  He said, “I want us to live together as man and wife. I want us to raise a family together.”

  This was what she’d wanted to hear.

  He continued, “If the baby turns out to be Nigel’s, I’d want to raise that child as if he or she were my own.”

  Her throat tightened at his generosity. “There’s no need to worry about that. The baby can’t be Nigel’s. He was bluffing. I presume he wanted money.”

  Lars nodded. “One hundred thousand dollars.”

  “What a jerk. First he almost rapes me, then he tries to act as if he’s the father.”

  “Rape?” His voice rose in alarm.

  She hastened to reassure him. “It was scary, but I managed to get away.” She smiled. “I broke one of my teapots over his head.”

  Lars ground his teeth. “I should have strangled him when I had the chance.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “No, it doesn’t matter now. I’m just glad he’s out of my life.”

  “Our lives.” Lars added.

  Kelly nodded. “What else do you want?”

  He faced her and put his hands on her waist, bringing her towards him. She put her hands on his chest, half to keep her distance, half to feel him close. “I want to grow old with you,” he said gently. “I want you to love me.”

  “I do,” she said quietly, and he kissed her.

  “Ah, Kelly,” he said, when she drew back. “I’m better at kisses than the words.”

  “I know, but I need both.”

  “I love you, Kelly,” he said huskily.

  She wanted to believe him. For a few minutes, she enjoyed the feel of him and his intoxicating kisses, but eventually she stepped back. “No,” she said firmly. “We have a problem of using sex as a substitute for communication. There are things we need to talk about.”

  He squared his shoulders. “Yes, you’re right. I need to apologize. I’m sorry I took advantage of you at a weak moment.” He smoothed her hair and brought the dark strands up to his lips for a kiss. “I was greedy. I saw an opportunity to have you and I took it. I seduced you.”

  Kelly smiled. He was so serious. “What is it that makes you think I�
�m such a brainless ninny that I’d let you sweep me off my feet if I didn’t want to be swept?” She pointed her finger and playfully poked him in the chest. “Didn’t it ever cross your mind that I was taking advantage of you?”

  He didn’t believe her. “You’d just broken up with Nigel. You were drinking. You were upset.”

  “I have a confession.”

  He looked worried.

  “I wasn’t drinking. I just let you think I had. Those were virgin margaritas I was quaffing.”

  He was stunned. “Why?”

  “I thought if you thought I was drunk, I could get away with more. Seducing you.”

  Lars laughed. “We were both scheming?”

  She nodded. “Deep in my heart, I knew that you cared for me, that I could trust you. And since you found me physically attractive --”

  “It was more than that, Kelly.”

  She smiled. “I was taking a risk, making myself vulnerable, but it wasn’t a big risk. I figured I’d tie the knot first and hope you didn’t have regrets later.”

  “I can accept that,” he said finally, “But what about Sunday morning? I’ve gone over it a million times in my mind, and I still don’t understand why you left, unless you were telling me the truth.”

  Kelly flushed. “I’m not very proud of that. I was so hurt, I let you think I was going back to Nigel. Believe me, I never would have -- at least not knowingly. After the car accident I didn’t know what to think.”

  He nodded. “I understand that, but you said our marriage was a mistake.”

  She tried to explain. “Sunday morning I woke up. There I was, naked with just a sheet wrapped around me, and you were already up and dressed. We’d jumped from friends to lovers in less than twenty four hours. I was nervous, a little embarrassed, and worried about what you were thinking. I asked if you had any regrets and you said, ‘yes.’“

  “Of course I had regrets. I felt bad that I’d convinced you to elope, instead of getting married in a church with all your friends and family there. I worried that I’d rushed you.”

  “And I thought you wished we hadn’t gotten married. So I ran off to take a shower and didn’t dare come out. When I finally gathered my courage, I came out, and you took a bathroom break.”