All That I Need (Grayson Friends)

by Ray, Francis

  He’d relived the scene of their last morning together over and over and still didn’t know why she’d gone to sleep with her arms around his neck and awakened anxious to leave him.

  A SUV he recognized as Naomi’s pulled up in the parking lot. Immediately behind were Richard’s truck and two other trucks and cars Lance didn’t recognize. He straightened, hoping Fallon was in one of the vehicles.

  The front passenger door of Naomi’s SUV opened and Fallon stepped out. Lance had thought he was prepared to see her again. He wasn’t.

  He didn’t expect the tightness in his gut, the almost overwhelming need to hold her. He’d missed her every day she had been gone, had even searched the Internet to find any tidbit of information on her articles. The one she’d done on the Yates auction had been published and was very well written. He’d received several inquiries directly related to her article, but he’d heard nothing from her.

  Their gazes touched. He was moving before he knew it. She turned away and opened the back door. His mother got out. He stopped abruptly. It hit him that he was looking at the first and the last women who had rejected him.

  Car and truck doors slammed. People were laughing, talking, and heading toward the steps of the church.

  “Hi, Lance. Come on.” Richard beckoned with his arm around Naomi’s waist, his hand holding Kayla’s.

  There were more people greeting Lance. He didn’t look at the man who’d married his mother to know or care if he’d spoken. Lance did catch his mother looking at him, but his gaze was centered on Fallon, who led the way into the church. Nothing had changed. She wanted no part of him.

  * * *

  “I can’t do this,” Fallon murmured. But she glanced back at the happy faces of Richard and Naomi and stiffened her spine. She wasn’t ruining this for them because she’d made a mistake.

  Naomi spoke quietly to Richard, then went to Fallon and took her hands. “You’re trembling.”

  “I’m fine.” Despite her intention, she looked at the door for Lance before she chastised herself and glanced away. She’d worn the dress she wore for her going-away party to show him what he’d lost. A huge mistake, since the dress now hung instead of cupping and tempting. She was a slow learner.

  “You should go back to the apartment and rest,” Naomi suggested quietly. “Richard will understand.”

  Fallon’s hands tightened. “You said you wouldn’t tell him. I know I’m asking—”

  “I didn’t tell him. I’m just worried about you,” Naomi interrupted. “I just wish there was more I could do.”

  “You’re already doing it by being my friend.”

  “Naomi, we need to get started.” There was impatience in the woman’s voice.

  Fallon glanced around to see Mrs. Lincoln, the wedding planner Naomi hadn’t been too thrilled to have but one Richard’s mother wanted. Her thin lips were pinched. Since Naomi already loved her future-mother-in law, she’d agreed.

  “We’re coming,” Naomi said; then she turned to Fallon. “If you have to leave, just do it.”

  “I’m fine for now and, since Mrs. Lincoln is giving us the eye, we better move it.” Taking Naomi’s arm, Fallon joined the group at the back of the church, making sure that she was nowhere near Lance. It wouldn’t remain that way, since they were paired up, but she’d cross that bridge when the time came.

  * * *

  Lance was fully prepared to ignore Fallon at the wedding rehearsal as she’d ignored him until he really got a good look at her as they waited for their cue to go down the aisle together. She remained beautiful, but she was pale and didn’t look well. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes. She didn’t fill out the straight dress as he remembered. Had she lost weight?

  “Hello, Fallon.”

  She turned her cool gaze on him. “Hello, Lance. How’s the auction business?”

  His eyes narrowed at her condescending tone. “Fine. How’s the travel business?”

  “Couldn’t be better. It’s our turn.”

  Lance walked beside her down the aisle and decided to bide his time. Had she gotten ill?

  “Mr. Saxton, eyes straight ahead,” requested the wedding planner.

  Lance complied with difficulty. Something was wrong with Fallon. The thought of her being ill or hurt made his gut knot. She could be pissed at him all she wanted, but he was going to find out what was the matter with her. She was probably too stubborn to see a doctor. They were all going to Brandon’s restaurant afterward for a rehearsal dinner; Lance would get his answers then.

  * * *

  Lance found that Fallon was more difficult to corner than he’d thought. She sat at the other end of the tables pushed together at the restaurant. Fifteen minutes after they were seated, she got up, spoke briefly to Naomi, and left. Lance assumed Fallon would return, but after five minutes passed and there was no sign of her he asked Naomi if she was coming back.

  “No,” Naomi answered, not quite meeting his gaze.

  “Lance, please sit down. I’d like to make a little speech,” Richard’s father requested.

  Lance took his seat until his uncle finished, then excused himself and went outside to call Fallon’s cell phone. It rolled into voice mail. Returning his phone to his pocket, he went back inside the restaurant. Tomorrow she wasn’t going to escape him.

  * * *

  The morning of the wedding dawned beautiful and clear. Despite how busy Fallon was helping Naomi and keeping Kayla entertained, there were moments that Lance slipped into her mind. The most painful moment was standing in the bride’s room and seeing Naomi in her wedding gown. Fallon would never have this with Lance, never know the excitement of being a bride.

  Fallow swallowed and walked around Naomi to ensure everything was perfect. Despite how badly things had turned out for Fallon, she was glad Naomi had found the happiness she deserved, and was happy to share Richard and Naomi’s wedding day with them. “You look amazing,” Fallon said softly.

  “Stunning,” Catherine added.

  “Thank you.” Naomi smiled. “I feel beautiful.” She lifted the voluminous A-line tulle skirt of the floor-length nude strapless gown. The ornately embroidered and beaded bodice continued on both sides of the dress and stopped at her fingertips. The gown complemented Naomi’s complexion and whispered softly when she moved. Her hair was swept atop her head and held in place with a jeweled comb.

  “Richard’s jaw will drop.” Fallon grinned.

  “Don’t make me cry.” Naomi fanned her face with her nude elbow-length gloves.

  “It’s time.” Mrs. Lincoln clapped her hands together. “Mrs. Grayson. Fallon. It’s time to meet the groomsmen.”

  Fallon felt her stomach dip and prayed she’d make it through today. Trying to keep the smile on her face, she gave Naomi a hug and followed Catherine out of the room.

  * * *

  Lance had been waiting for this moment since last night. The first sight of Fallon struck him like a closed fist. She was stunningly beautiful. Even the dark smudges beneath her narrowed eyes couldn’t detract from that beauty. Despite everything he’d planned, thought, some part of him refused to banish her from his mind.

  Fallon didn’t meet his gaze as he took her arm and started down the aisle. Beneath their feet were the white rose petals Kayla had scattered. Fallon loved flowers. The flowers he’d given her were dead and forgotten, just as he was to her.

  Perhaps because today the church was filled with flickering candles, dozens of flowers, their scent heavy in the air, he felt “something” walking beside her. He couldn’t define the feeling and it bothered him.

  Richard certainly looked happy, ecstatic actually, Lance thought. His cousin was as anxious as a kid on Christmas morning expecting his first bike. His best man, Luke, who’d been married for a while, clearly loved his wife. Marriage might work for some people, but not for Lance.

  When it was time to release Fallon, Lance felt a momentary resistance that oddly didn’t surprise him. Taking his place beside Luke, Lance watch
ed Fallon. He frowned on seeing her blanch and almost took a step toward her. Yet even as the thought formed, her head lifted, and she stared toward the back of the church. She was ill. He was positive. As soon as the wedding was over, he was going to find out what was wrong with her.

  The organist began playing Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus.” It would never be played for Lance and Fallon. There was a rustle as the audience stood, then appreciative “oohhs” and “aahhs” as Naomi started down the aisle. She looked radiant and beautiful. Richard looked stunned—in a good way. As if compelled, despite Mrs. Lincoln’s strict instructions and him knowing better, Lance didn’t seem able to stop watching Fallon.

  * * *

  Lance’s concern regarding Fallon grew as the day of the wedding lengthened. Just after the wedding, she’d looked so pale and shaky he’d been fearful that she’d faint. She’d seen him coming toward her and gone to the limousine waiting for the bridal party.

  She’d thwarted him again. He’d gone to his car and driven to the Casa de Serenidad hotel, where the wedding reception was being held, and bided his time. He’d waited through the arrival of the bride and groom, the toasts, the first dance, and the food before he got his chance.

  Fallon had excused herself from the wedding party and left the room. She’d done so before, but he hadn’t felt as if he could follow until now because the bride and groom had just left as well.

  This time he’d get an answer. He saw her go into the women’s restroom. He leaned against the wall to wait. She came out a few minutes later. Her steps were unsteady. Worried, he started for her. She saw him and stiffened.

  “You look sick. Have you been to the doctor?” he asked. He hadn’t intended the words to come out so abrupt.

  “As a matter of fact I have. He said I’m fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She took two steps, swayed.

  He caught her, more frightened than he’d ever been in his life. “Fallon!”

  “I’m—I’m all right.” She pushed away from him and rubbed her hand across her forehead. “I don’t need your help.”

  “The hell you don’t.” His arms circled her shoulders again. “I’m taking you home.”

  “I—” She slapped her hand over her mouth, pushed out of his arms, and rushed back into the bathroom.

  He reached for the door to follow her.

  “That’s the women’s bathroom,” an elderly woman said, eyeing him with suspicion.

  “I know. A friend of mine is sick. She just went inside.”

  The well-dressed woman continued to look at him with skepticism. “You just wait here, and I’ll go see.”

  “Thank you.” Lance didn’t know whether to go get his aunt or—

  The door opened and the elderly woman came back out. “She said to tell you that she’s fine. She’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He didn’t believe either statement. “Thank you. I’ll wait.”

  A frown on her face, the woman looked back at the bathroom door, then back at him. “Maybe it’s best. She didn’t look well.”

  Lance’s eyes rounded. He reached for the door again.

  “Young man, you can’t go into a ladies’ restroom,” the woman protested.

  “I’m not waiting out here while Fallon is sick.” He turned to the door just as it slowly began to open.

  Fallon, looking pale and weak, stood there. He scooped her up in his arms. “I’m taking you home and putting you to bed. Tomorrow you’re going to see another doctor.”

  “Lance, please put me down. People are staring.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” He continued down the hall and then outside. Standing her on her feet, his arm securely around her waist, he gave the attendant his valet ticket. “Please hurry. She’s ill.”

  “The hotel has a doctor on call,” another valet said while one ran to get Lance’s car.

  “I’ve already seen a doctor,” Fallon gritted out.

  “A quack apparently,” Lance said.

  The valet jumped out of Lance’s car. “Here’s your car, mister. I hope you feel better, miss.”

  The other valet opened the passenger’s door. “You sure you don’t want me to call the front desk to get the doctor on call?”

  “I’m taking her home.” Lance would put her to bed at the cottage and take care of her. His aunt probably knew a doctor he could call. He reached for Fallon and she slapped his hand away.

  “I’m not going anyplace with you.”

  “You’re sick,” he said. Maybe she’d picked up some bug on her last trip.

  “I’m not sick, you fool. I’m pregnant.” Spinning on her heels, she went back inside the hotel.

  Lance felt the earth shift beneath his feet. There was a roaring sound in his head.

  “Mister. Mister. You all right?”

  Lance glanced between the two young attendants on either side of him holding his arms. “Pregnant.”

  They nodded solemnly.

  Pregnant and she wasn’t happy about it. Fear consumed him. “I’ve got to get to her.”

  “Mister. Your car.”

  Ignoring the valet’s frantic call, Lance rushed back to the ballroom. He had to find her. If … No, he refused to let his mind go there.

  Richard and Naomi might have left, but people were having a great time at the reception. They were congregated at the buffet table or the three bars or on the dance floor. The one person Lance sought wasn’t there. He didn’t even know where she was staying.

  He pulled out his cell phone only to replace it. She wasn’t going to pick up his call. Shoving his hand over his head in frustration, he made his way to his aunt and uncle’s table.

  “Aunt Gladys, have you seen Fallon in the last five minutes?” Lance asked, trying to appear calm when he was almost jumping out of his skin.

  “No, Lance.” Gladys came to her feet. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” He searched the crowd again before turning back to his aunt. “Do you happen to know where she’s staying?”

  “No,” she said, then looked at him ruefully. “You two have a fight?”

  He worked his shoulders. “I need to find her.”

  Something brushed his arm; he turned to see what it was and saw his mother. He frowned.

  “Do you want us to help you look for her?” she asked. Her husband stood as well, silently offering his help. They’d briefly spoken to Lance at the reception today. They tended to avoid each other.

  As much as he wanted to find Fallon, Lance didn’t want anything from his mother or her husband. “No.” He faced his aunt. “If you see her, please call me.”

  His aunt’s annoyance with him was obvious. She wanted him and his mother to settle their differences. It wasn’t happening. “I will, but we’re leaving as soon as Catherine and Luke return with Kayla. She wanted to say good night to her mother and new daddy.”

  Lance’s brows bunched in surprise. “They haven’t left?”

  Richard’s mother leaned closer and whispered, “Naomi wanted to make sure Kayla was all right before they left on their honeymoon. They’re staying in the hotel for a couple of days.”

  Naomi would know how to find Fallon. “What’s their room number?” Lance asked, uncaring that he sounded a bit frantic.

  “Lance—”

  “Please.” He took Gladys’s arms. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Tell him, Gladys,” his uncle said.

  “Three ten. The honeymoon suite,” Gladys answered.

  “Thank you.” Lance rushed from the ballroom. He couldn’t get to the elevator fast enough. He leaned on the button, then jabbed it a couple of times. “Come on. Come on.”

  The elevator pinged. Lance started to get on but stepped back as Luke, Catherine, and Kayla started to come out.

  “Hi, Cousin Lance,” Kayla greeted cheerfully. “Are you going to say good night to Mama and Daddy, too?”

  “Hi, Kayla. Something like that.” Ignoring the strange looks Catherine and Luke were giving him, Lance entered
the elevator and punched 3. If they’d just left, he might catch Richard before he and Naomi became “involved.”

  As soon as the elevator doors began to slide open on the third floor, Lance was through them and hurrying down the hall. Locating 310, he knocked on the door, then knocked again. Somehow he’d make it up to them, but he had to find Fallon before it was too late.

  Richard opened the door. The indulgent smile morphed into aggravation. He probably had thought it was Kayla again. “This had better be someone dying.”

  “Fallon’s pregnant and I can’t find her.”

  * * *

  Fallon made it as far as the sofa in Naomi’s apartment before she had to sit down. She’d never felt as weak and as tired as she did now. Thankfully, the nausea had subsided. For someone who had never been sick with more than a cold, her body wasn’t dealing well with pregnancy.

  Neither was she.

  Eyes closed, she dropped her head on the armrest and placed her forearm over her eyes. She’d attributed the missed menstrual cycle to stress, worry, and anger—until the nausea began. The food editor Fallon was traveling with suggested that she might be pregnant. She had scoffed at the idea. She’d purchased a pregnancy test to prove she wasn’t pregnant.

  She wasn’t laughing the next morning.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d stared at the stick, then she’d cried. She didn’t want to be a single mother. Despite the way things had ended between them, she wanted Lance so badly she ached.

  The hard knock on the apartment door startled her. She sat up and was hit by a wave of dizziness. She eased back down. The knock came again. This time harder. Fallon didn’t particularly care. It couldn’t be a friend of Naomi’s because a friend would know she was getting married today. Anyone else didn’t matter.

  “Fallon! It’s Lance. Open the door!”

  She might have known. He must have tracked Richard and Naomi down. How insensitive of him.

  “Fallon. I know you’re in there.”

  Her lashes fluttered open. What did he have to be angry about? He wasn’t the one puking his guts out, unable to walk ten feet without getting tired.