A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection

by Melanie Jacobson

  He ignored me as he unlocked the studio door and let me in.

  “Really. I can pay for myself.”

  “We’ve already had this conversation,” he said.

  And we had. But that was before Adam’s parents. Before I’d embarrassed myself by behaving badly in public.

  “Did I... make things bad for you?” I asked.

  “How could you have done that?”

  “She said she was going to tell your mom.”

  “I’m an adult. I don’t live in my mom’s basement.” He said it like he was joking, but after spending a day with him teasing and joking, I knew the signs. He wasn’t joking. So I might have ruined things for him, and he wasn’t planning on telling me either way.

  “Fair enough,” I said, feeling like life wasn’t fair at all. It had only been a day. How did someone really know how they felt about a person after only one day?

  But in that one day, I’d shared more conversations with Jack than I had in all the months of dating Adam. And somehow I knew that if I had a chance to have more than one day, I’d want another. And another.

  Jack was the kind of guy I didn't want to say goodbye to. Yet here we were, at the end of our one day, doing exactly that.

  We’d made it to the dressing room where my clothes lay folded up on the chair. I tossed an uncomfortable smile before closing the dressing room door so I could change clothes again. Time for Cinderella to get back to reality.

  When I realized Cinderella had no way out of her gown. “Jack?” I called out, hoping he still stood by the door. When he answered, I admitted, “I need help getting out of the dress.”

  I opened the door, feeling stupid.

  He twirled his finger to let me know he needed me to turn around. I did, closing my eyes as his fingers worked the buttons down my back. He moved slower than he had this morning, more uncertain. There was fire in the places where his fingertips connected with my skin.

  He undid all the buttons, so I wouldn’t have to get acrobatic to change, and then he hovered a moment, the energy between us almost searing before he stepped away, cleared his throat, and raked his fingers through his hair.

  “Thank you,” I said, horrified by the heat in my whisper. Get a grip, Juliet.

  I changed clothes quickly, zipped the dress up into the bag it was likely never to resurface from again in my life, and moved out to the studio to say goodbye. I gave Jack a hug and thanked him again, wondering if he would bring up the idea of spending time with me later.

  He didn’t.

  He merely accepted the hug and the gratitude with a nonchalant nod and smile.

  This was definitely goodbye.

  I accepted it and left without making it any more awkward than it was.

  And went home feeling a million times worse than I had when Adam told me there would be no wedding.

  Chapter Six

  “So,” Alison said, looking at me with her pity face again. “You met the guy of your dreams, who happens to be related to the biggest loser on the planet, and had a run in with the loser’s parents. Sounds like quite the adventure.”

  It had been nearly four days since I’d met Jack. Alison had been out of town that entire time which meant I’d had to marinate in my own misgivings with no one to vent to until she returned. In the meantime, I’d stalked Jack mercilessly online, scrolling through the photo gallery he kept on his personal website so many times, I felt like the people in the pictures were family.

  Again, people who say things always look better in the light of a new day are horrific liars. Things looked hopelessly worse. I missed him.

  How could I miss someone I’d known for only one day?

  “An adventure,” I echoed, not knowing how to deal with all the weird feelings. “What should I do?”

  She scooted herself onto the kitchen counter and kicked off her heels. “You said he has an art show tonight?”

  I nodded.

  She took a sip of her raspberry tea. Her pause before responding comforted me. It meant she was considering every possible outcome of my half concocted plan. Finally she nodded along with me. “I think you should go. You need to see him again so you can figure out what it is you’re feeling. More importantly, he needs to see you. I’ll go with you.”

  That was that.

  We spent the rest of the day unpacking her from her trip, cleaning the apartment in case Jack decided to drop by in the near future, and getting ready for the evening event.

  By the time Alison hailed a taxi, and it had deposited us in front of the gallery, I reconsidered the plan. “Doesn’t this seem sort of brazen to show up here where all of his friends will be present?”

  “You’re such a lawyer. Did you just use the word brazen? In a real sentence?” Alison opened the door and waited for me to enter the gallery.

  I whispered as I led the way inside. “Would you prefer cheeky, shameless, assuming, obvious? How about ballsy? Does that one work better for you?” I stopped almost instantly.

  Alison started to grumble at being forced to run into me when she gasped with a quiet, “Oh.”

  We were face to face with a life-sized framed picture of me. It was the one in front of the turtle pond by Belvedere Castle. The sky, and the pond’s reflection of that sky, looked like it had been painted by an artist. I had the green shawl wrapped tight around my shoulders as if warding off an unseen cold. My eyes were downcast. A single, full tear trailed down my cheek.

  So much was said in that single photo. It spoke of loss, regret, shame, all the while the sky blazed with hope and promise. The castle added a romantic sort of backdrop.

  The gold plate under it read “Juliet’s Reflection.”

  It felt like my soul had been flayed open to the world in one simple portrait.

  I cast a quick glance around. Did anyone recognize me as the girl stretched out on canvas? No one appeared to be looking askance at me, well... no one but Alison.

  “You look amazing. I’m so glad I talked you into going to that photo shoot,” she said. She then pointed. “Hey! There’s more of you!”

  I slapped her hand down and hissed a, “Shh!” at her.

  But she was right. There was more of me. Not a lot when compared with how many pictures Jack had taken that day, but enough to make me blush. And they were all equal to the first. They breathed emotion and captured the heartbeat of the city in a way that left me humbled to have been part of it. There were lots of other pictures too, animals, insects, flowers, scenery, city skyline. As I neared the end of the displayed works, the one word that kept coming back to me was honest. Jack spoke honesty through his camera.

  Alison went ahead of me as I moved slower with each picture. And then a voice came from behind me, but not the one I’d been hoping to hear.

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

  I turned slowly. “Adam.” I glanced around to try to find Alison, hoping she’d rescue me. She was too far away to call over without drawing the attention of the entire room. “Fascinating?” I said, realizing no rescue would be possible.

  “Yes. Fascinating that you’re in so many of these little pictures. And now you’re here tonight. What happened? Got a little rebound crush going on?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m pretty sure a person has to be heartbroken to end up on a rebound. Since I’m grateful to be out of our relationship, I think any feelings I’d develop for anyone else would be genuine. I’m not remotely heartbroken.”

  He blinked, shocked to find I had any nerve left in me. It made sense for him to be surprised. He’d never seen anything remotely resembling a backbone in me before. But everything I’d said was true. I was grateful to be out of that toxic relationship.

  “So you seriously do have feelings for him?” His voice was flat, angry.

  I didn’t deny it. There were definite feelings for me to explore. I only hoped that they weren’t one-sided. I took a cleansing breath and smiled, shouldering past Adam to continue through the gallery.

  But Adam caught my
arm in a grip too hard to be friendly. “Really? Genuine huh? You got a thing for a guy you called too expensive? For a guy you only met because I set up the appointment? For a guy you met while wearing a dress you bought for me? Tacky, Juliet. Really tacky.”

  “Drinking much?” I said. “Does your mom know you’re blowing your rehab treatment?” I tried to yank my arm from his grasp, but he held on tighter.

  “My mom told me all about your little fling in Grand Central Station. She said she felt an enormous amount of embarrassment for you.”

  I finally pulled my arm free, though it hurt to do so. What was Adam doing? He dumped me weeks ago and now had the nerve to act like an enraged, jealous boyfriend?

  And then it hit me. “She dumped you. The girl you left me for dumped you, and now you’re ticked because I’m not around to be your fall back girl? That’s pathetic, Adam.”

  I moved away, back toward the door where Alison had ended up. Adam followed me. “If you really do have feelings, then you ought to consider that my mom is one of Jack’s biggest patrons. She set up this little show. She made his career happen. And if I tell her that Jack is consorting with the wrong kind of girl, she’ll pull the plug and drain his career dry.”

  There was an evil sort of triumph in his words, a hate I’d never heard in his voice before. Yet I knew he spoke the truth. Mrs. Verona had mentioned it when we’d run into each other.

  Adam didn’t follow me further, but I felt his eyes on my back as I wound through the patrons to where Alison stared at another picture. “This Jack guy totally has you figured out,” she said when she saw me. I glanced at the picture she had been surveying. And stopped short. It was me giving the hot dog to the homeless man, his hand wrapped around mine, our eyes bound in a moment of something real, something pure.

  I hadn’t known Jack had seen, let alone captured that moment.

  The gold-plated caption called it, “The Patron Saint of the People.”

  “Juliet!” Jack had seen me at last and wove his way to me. “Juliet! What a fabulous surprise! What do you think? Do you like it?” He looked genuinely happy to see me, happy to have me seeing him.

  His arms opened wide, and I stepped into them without thinking, closing my eyes, feeling a belonging I hadn’t ever felt anywhere else. When my eyes opened, I saw Adam, standing behind Jack and making sure I knew he was there. He shook his head in warning.

  I tried, and failed, to smile and act upbeat. “Everything looks great! You’re really talented, Jack. I’m glad to have seen it all, but I really have to go, sorry I can’t stay longer. I’ll see you around, maybe.”

  I turned my back on his confusion, grabbed Alison’s hand and forced my way through the doors of the gallery. I looked back only once and saw Jack frowning, and Adam nodding his approval.

  Chapter Seven

  “You’re seriously listening to the serpent tongue of Adam Verona?” Alison had been rolling her eyes and lecturing at me ever since we got home.

  “I don’t want to mess up anything for Jack. He’s a good guy.”

  “Exactly. He’s a good guy. Good guys like good girls. You’re a good girl. Good guys like making good choices. You’re a good choice.”

  I hugged the pillow and tucked my legs underneath me, listening to the lectures that had only just begun.

  I fell asleep on the couch, certain Alison had kept going long after I’d closed my eyes on her.

  The next morning, I opened my eyes to face my birthday. Twenty-five years old. And feeling wretched about it.

  Alison hummed from the direction of the kitchen. It smelled like she’d made me a cake. She was sweet that way.

  A knock came at the door.

  “Go get it!” Alison yelled, likely her way of making me get off the couch for the day instead of wallowing.

  On the porch was a vase with multicolored roses. A lot of roses. I glanced around, saw no one, and picked them up. I pulled the card from the holder and started reading when Alison came into the living room and saw the bouquet.

  “Your mom sent you flowers for your birthday?”

  My eyes and heart rate shot up at the same time after reading the name at the bottom of the card. “It’s from Jack!”

  She vaulted the couch to squeeze in next to me so she could read over my shoulder.

  Dear Juliet,

  Happy Birthday.

  Twenty five years.

  Twenty five roses

  Twenty five colors

  To represent the

  Twenty five ways you made me smile on our one day together.

  ~Jack

  “Oh, now that’s cute!” Alison squealed.

  The bell rang again. Alison shoved me toward it. “Forget the ex, Juliet. Take a chance on something meaningful for a change!” She then disappeared back to her room to give me privacy.

  I put down the flowers and opened the door to reveal Jack standing there with a bouquet of photos—‌each one taped to a decorative stick poking out of a vase. The pictures were all of me. I didn't have to count them to know there were twenty-five.

  I had to bite my lip to keep it from quivering. “You remembered my birthday.”

  “Of course I did. You have plans today.”

  “Plans? I don’t—”

  “With me. You have great plans with me. And before you can argue,” he said over my protest. “I know what Adam said to you. And he’s wrong. His mom helped me set that one show up, but she didn’t do it for me. She did it because she needed to do something to make it look like she’d helped the arts community. It was for her. So stop worrying, and let’s go out and have a great day, okay?”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why me?”

  His face softened as he touched my shoulder. “I knew I liked you more than was appropriate for me to like a girl coming in for her bridal sitting when you showed up in flannel. Then you asked me to keep the books in the trees. I liked you even more when you had the courage to ask for help with your dress right from the start rather than making me wait a half hour while you tried to figure it out on your own like other girls always do. You knew when you needed help and felt no shame in asking for it. But the clincher was when you willingly gave a hot dog to a hungry, homeless man. I knew then I’d go crazy if I couldn’t get to know you better.”

  He put down the vase of pictures. “So how about it? Want to spend another day with me?” He stood close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath, close enough for me to know he preferred wintergreen. “And truthfully, I really have been thinking about those lips since the first time you smiled at me.”

  He closed the distance between us, his feathery light kiss deepening as I responded to the warmth of him.

  Wow.

  I broke away and started laughing, loving that he stood on the same doorstep where a UPS man had stood several weeks before.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, confused.

  “It’s the light of a new day, and suddenly... everything looks better.”

  Julie Wright started her first book when she was fifteen. She’s written over a dozen books since then, is a Whitney Awards winner, and feels she’s finally getting the hang of this writing gig. She enjoys speaking to writing groups, youth groups, and schools. She loves reading, eating writing, hiking, playing on the beach with her kids, and snuggling with her husband to watch movies. Julie’s favorite thing to do is watch her husband make dinner. She hates mayonnaise, but has a healthy respect for ice cream. Visit her at her website: www.juliewright.com

  Other Works by Julie Wright

  Click the covers to visit the author’s page on Amazon.

  For my beautiful, talented, and only slightly superstitious niece, Courtney.

  I love you, girl.

  Chapter One

  The air smelled woodsy and fresh, exactly how Courtney remembered. A light breeze grazed her face as she walked, and she smiled. This was exactly why she loved coming home—‌to smell this smell and feel the
wild, untamed feeling that made Heimel, Alaska, the perfect place to return home to.

  At least for a little while.

  An uncomfortable pit settled in Courtney’s stomach, the same way it did every time she thought of leaving again in a few months. Would she ever be able to stay for good?

  Hannah’s arm nudged hers as they headed down Main Street, sipping strawberry smoothies. “Glad to have you back, sis, even if it’s only for the summer.” She sucked the last of her smoothie with a slurp. “Where next? Oregon? South Dakota? What about Canada? You haven’t been out of the country yet.”

  “Who knows?” Courtney shrugged. “It all depends on where my next book will be set. Which is why I’m here—‌to get inspired. And to catch up with my favorite sister, of course.”

  “How nice to be an afterthought,” Hannah said dryly.

  Courtney laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Hannah swished her long, ebony hair behind her shoulder and lifted her face to the sun. “If you feel so inspired here, why not move back for good?”

  It was a question she’d asked herself many times, but as much as she’d love to move back, she couldn’t. It would ruin everything. Courtney sipped the last of her smoothie then tossed the empty cup in a nearby trashcan.

  Hannah would laugh and call her superstitious, but each of Courtney’s four published, and two soon-to-be published books were born in Heimel—‌after she’d left.

  The feeling of coming home was like magic, permeating her soul and leaving her rejuvenated. In only a matter of months, she could outline a story and pound out a rough draft. It was like gliding through the skies and seeing everything stretch beneath her in one big beautiful, interconnecting pattern. But eventually, she always found herself back on the ground where, like the effects of a drug, the feeling diminished.

  So she’d developed a foolproof system to keep her writing going strong: Return to Heimel, outline and write a rough draft, and move to the place where the book was set for research and revisions. Several months later, after she’d handed over the completed manuscript to her agent, she’d return to Heimel and start the process all over again.