Always a Bridesmaid

by Cindi Madsen

  The instant he stepped into the room, both women looked up at him, eyes narrowed, as if they suspected he might’ve turned redcoat.

  “Is he gone?” Addie asked.

  “Yeah,” Ford said. “But he wants you to call him after you calm down.”

  Fire flared through her eyes, and her voice came out at the same pitch as his dog whistle. “Calm down? Like I’m just overreacting?”

  Ford held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” He sat on the arm of the couch, since Lexi was seated on Addie’s other side. “Maybe let him in on what’s going on, though.”

  More tears welled in her eyes. “Tucker and I were talking about our future—about plans for the house we’re building and our yard—and then he says he’s always wanted a son to play catch with.”

  Lexi frowned while Ford racked his brain for what the hell was wrong with that. He’d thought the very same thing when he’d been at the baseball field with Dylan.

  “So I said, ‘what if we have a daughter? You can play catch with a girl, too.’ And he…” Addie sniffed. “He said it’s not the same. Can you believe that?”

  Ford brought up his shoulders in case he needed to block one of Murph’s jabs. “Um, don’t kill me, but I’m lost. I think every guy dreams of playing catch with his son.”

  Despite his request that she not kill him, Addie glared like she was considering how to tear him limb from limb. “Seriously? You both grew up playing catch with me. Are you sayin’ it wasn’t fun enough? That I can’t throw as far and hard as either of you?”

  Ah, hell. Because Addie was a girl. Sometimes he…well, not exactly forgot. Just didn’t take her gender into consideration. “No. Which is why every time I was team captain for our football matches, I picked you first. Not only can you throw, you’re fast as shit.”

  “Oh, don’t patronize me, McGuire.”

  Now he was regretting not fleeing the scene with Tucker. What had happened to his best friend, and who was this irrational woman in her place? “I’m not. I wouldn’t dare.”

  “You say that, but once we reached junior high, you were protective of me. Not as bad as Tucker, but sometimes you left your route to block for me.”

  “Did I tell a few guys that if they hurt you, I’d put my foot so far up their ass they’d taste the gator shit on my shoe? Sure. Never had to follow through. Mostly because of the speed I mentioned.”

  “Then, wouldn’t it be only natural to assume that my daughter would be equally as good? At catching and running and doing everything my son could do?”

  “Yeah, to a point,” Ford said. “Once people get to a certain age, the muscle mass and weight class—”

  Both women glared, so he switched tactics.

  “Would you be disappointed if you had a daughter who hated playing ball? A daughter who wore frilly dresses and threw tea parties?”

  Addie fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger, spinning it round and round, and he fought back a wheeze as the last of his breath left his lungs. No thinking about marriage or how much Violet wants it—gotta focus on one disaster at a time.

  “No. I mean, I might be sad I can’t share football with her, but…” Her frown deepened. “That’s not the point.”

  What is the point? he wanted to ask but knew better. “All’s I’m saying is that Tucker adores you. You’re arguing over a what-if. Aren’t there enough things to argue about in the present?”

  “Yeah, like how he told his mom we could add a few dances because she insisted on a mother-son dance, even though I made it clear I didn’t want to dance at my wedding.” Addie’s mouth pulled to one side as she glanced at Lexi. “No offense, Lex.”

  “None taken.” Lexi twisted in her seat and smoothed her hands down her skirt. She was a girly girl, and if the tension in the air wasn’t so thick and perplexing, he might point out that Addie got on great with her, fancy clothes and total lack of throwing skills notwithstanding.

  “Look, I’ve been in your shoes.” Lexi’s gaze dipped to Murph’s sneakers. “Well, in your place, since you and I have very different footwear preferences and that’s okay.” She patted Addie’s thigh. “Differences are what keeps the world from being one big snoozefest. Planning a wedding is stressful. Both families are tugging at you, and that leads to everyone feeling overwhelmed. Which means small fights blow up into big ones.

  “Tell you what…” Lexi popped to her high-heeled feet. “I’m going to grab the carton of ice cream I stashed in your freezer, along with your bottle of Jack. Then we’ll banish all talk of weddings and unwind. Things will be right as rain come tomorrow morning—that or we’ll be too hungover to care.”

  Addie’s snort-laugh was capped off with a sob. “I used to brag about how cool I was under pressure and how I rarely got emotional. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

  Ford slipped into the spot Lexi had abandoned and slung his arm around Addie. “You’re the girl with a killer right hook; the girl who pranked teachers and outswam me. The girl in just about every single one of my memories.”

  And the girl who had changed the instant she’d gotten engaged.

  The thought hit him, and regardless of his resolve to lock it away in his brain and never dare utter the words, it didn’t change the facts.

  With two of his closest friends hurting, Dad’s warning about relationships—and how they always brought on fights—drifted up to haunt him.

  Or perhaps to taunt him.

  It was hard to tell, but either way, warning bells began trilling, growing louder by the second.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and when Easton’s name flashed on-screen, he excused himself and walked into the kitchen to take it.

  “You’re at the reopening, right?” Easton asked.

  “Murph’s, actually. I should probably head to the bakery, though.” Ford glanced at the time. Violet’s father had undoubtedly arrived by now, and he wondered how much trouble he was in for not being there.

  With things between Addie and Tucker all messed up and his train-wreck thoughts, it was the last place he wanted to go.

  “Okay, well don’t worry about the flat tire call that came in from dispatch. I’m on my way, and it sounds like Darius is ahead of me.”

  This was what happened when Ford ignored his radio and didn’t pay attention to alerts. He hadn’t even heard about the flat tire. The excuse called to him like a life saver in the lake of confliction he was about to drown in. “Where is it? I’ll meet you there.”

  “Are you deaf? The entire reason I called was to tell you we have it handled. Go to the bakery and do your thing. Then maybe later, you and I can grab a beer at the Old Firehouse. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  …

  So far, Violet had avoided Dad and Cheryl, who were getting the big sign reveal ready. Sure, she’d strapped her niece into a carrier and used her as an excuse to walk around and evade an awkward encounter of the parental kind, but Isla was having a great time.

  Since Violet had seen Ford run before, she knew he could move quickly and was flummoxed he wasn’t back yet.

  “Do you see him, Isla?” Violet tipped onto her toes. Every dark head of hair had her heart quickening, but then they’d turn, and it wouldn’t be him, and she’d experience a twinge of disappointment.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She considered ignoring it, figuring it was a message in the Bridesmaid Chat she could read after the mini ceremony, but curiosity got the best of her.

  Ford: I know I promised to be there, and I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to make it. I got an emergency call I have to take care of.

  Violet’s stomach bottomed all the way out, splatting against the hard ground. He’s not coming. I’m on my own.

  He can’t help when there’s an emergency. While I feel like I’m in the middle of one, I’m not bleeding out.

 
Ever since he walked out the bakery door, she’d been replaying their last few minutes. Catching him talking to Isla. Seeing her tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers.

  Her ovaries had stood at attention, kickstarting her biological clock. She felt the residual ping, as if they wanted to say they hadn’t given up.

  Violet patted her lower stomach and muttered, “You need to calm down, baby box. Ford and I barely started this relationship, and that’s the kind of thing that’d freak him out.”

  Isla tipped up her chin and blinked at Violet, tiny eyebrows puckered.

  Violet kissed her cheek and whispered, “I guess Ford was right about me being a little off. But just wait until you have to deal with boys. They’re confusing and amazing and frustrating and fascinating. One day they’ll be amazing and the next they’ll act all cagey.”

  The way Ford had been there at the end.

  The longer he’d taken to show, the more she’d worried he’d noticed the visions of babies dancing in her head. Long term, of course. After dismissing the notion as futile, it was simply nice to daydream about the possibility again.

  Violet readjusted the pink sock that’d slid halfway down Isla’s foot. “Unless what you decide you want is a girlfriend. Honestly, I’d go that route if I could choose, but attraction is a powerful thing. Although drama comes along with every relationship, I suppose, so—”

  “Are you talking to me?” the woman next to her asked, and Violet gave her a sheepish smile.

  Oops.

  Dad began his mayoral speech, Maisy at his side as he discussed how proud he was of his daughter, and Cheryl on his other side, nodding her agreement. With them occupied, Violet moved closer.

  She swung her camera from where it’d awkwardly hung at her back to avoid bouncing against Isla, lifted it, and snapped several photos.

  “…proud of both my daughters.” Dad’s gaze pinned Violet in place. “As most of you probably know, Violet’s done the majority of the repainting and decorating.”

  Violet glanced around, as if she expected another Violet who happened to have her same biological father to step forward.

  “Can you come up?” Dad motioned Violet forward, and a light drumming began beating at her temples.

  Slowly, she made her way to the podium. She made a fist and then released it—opened, closed, opened, closed. Ford was supposed to be here to hold her hand. To provide support.

  What if I make a fool of myself in front of the entire town?

  Is Dad extending an olive branch? Or is he about to pull the rug out from underneath me?

  I really wish Ford was here.

  I’m about to pass out anyway, so maybe someone will call 911, and he can resuscitate me after he fixes whoever he’s helping now.

  Maisy stretched out her hand, offering a much-needed anchor in the storm, and Violet took hold. Just like that, her inner turmoil calmed. “I want to thank the entire community for their patience as we were remodeling and for coming here today to celebrate. I couldn’t have done any of this without my sister.” Maisy gave her a quick squeeze, and a boulder-sized lump formed in Violet’s throat. “And now, without any further ado…”

  Maisy gripped hold of the string affixed to the canvas fabric hiding the new sign. She tugged, and the fabric slipped free to reveal a cupcake-shaped sign with the words Maisy’s Bakery.

  Everyone cheered, and people rushed forward to congratulate Maisy and head inside. Violet hung back, lifted her phone, and composed a reply to Ford. Yes, she’d been dismayed upon receiving his apology text, but the important thing was, he’d choose to be here with her if he could. That was what mattered.

  Violet: No worries. I have Isla to protect me. I’ll make sure to save you a cupcake and check in later. XOXO

  She snapped a quick selfie of herself and her niece and sent it along, too.

  “Hello there, little angel.”

  Everything inside of Violet froze, much the same way it’d done at the bazaar when she’d heard Cheryl’s voice.

  Violet plastered on a smile and held on to it for dear life as she pivoted toward her dad’s wife. Oh, holy crap. Dad just publicly acknowledged me in front of most of the town.

  With too many emotions firing through Violet at once, she still hadn’t sorted out exactly how she felt about it, but she worried Cheryl would be more upset than usual and searched for a way to placate her. “Did you want to hold Isla?”

  “Always.”

  It took a bit of finagling, but Violet managed to get Isla out of her carrier and handed her to her grandmother.

  “Guess I’ll head inside and—” Violet was moving past Cheryl as she spoke, but she stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  Dad walked over, too, going against the flow of traffic, and Violet’s heart attempted to beat out of her chest. Never mind, she wanted to text Ford. Whatever emergency you’re taking care of, mine is bigger, so get over here!

  So what if she was being as melodramatic as Ford once teased her of being?

  “I wanted to apologize,” Cheryl said, the words clipped. “I haven’t treated you fairly. Not only the other night at the bazaar but since the beginning.”

  Dad took the last few steps, closing the distance between them. “I also want to apologize for not being there for you more through the years.” He struggled to meet Violet’s gaze. He cleared his throat, and she realized he was attempting to rein in his emotions. A soft smile curved his mouth as he grabbed Isla’s hand.

  It was weird, thinking they were grandparents to the baby she’d spent so much time with.

  “Maisy’s been so happy this past month, and I thought, ‘oh good, she’s finally through the baby blues.’” Cheryl brought a trembling hand up to her mouth. “But whenever we talk, she mentions you, and today it hit me that it’s mostly thanks to you.”

  Violet tucked her hair behind both ears. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. All I did was help her decorate and provide a little company.”

  Dad’s hand came down on her shoulder. “We haven’t given you nearly enough praise through the years. Let us tell you how wonderful we think you are. Please.”

  A floaty, surreal-yet-happy sensation brewed underneath her sternum, slowly spreading to other parts of her body.

  The next half hour was filled with apologies, tears, and cupcakes.

  While it stung to be snubbed for simply existing, the fact of the matter was, Violet understood how hard it must’ve been for Cheryl to accept her. Being cheated on hurt you right down to the core of who you were. It made you doubt yourself and your worth and was hell on the self-esteem.

  Every time Violet had seen or heard mention of the woman Benjamin had cheated on her with, it opened up old wounds and formed a deeper scar.

  Now that she had Ford and realized how much better he was for her in every possible way, it wouldn’t send her to her knees anymore. Still, she’d done insane things in the name of retribution, and even after damaging Benjamin’s stuff, she’d wanted more justice, even as she’d felt instant regret.

  The smile that spread across her face as she watched Dad and Cheryl laugh and hug was blessedly genuine.

  She couldn’t imagine ever forgiving Benjamin, the way Cheryl had forgiven Dad. And it must’ve been hard for her to apologize. Violet wasn’t sure her relationship with Dad or her stepmom would ever be a super close one, but for the first time in a long time, she believed they had a shot at being…well, more than acquaintances.

  After cleaning up the party, when Violet and Maisy had flopped on the couch, too sore to move, Violet informed her sister that she’d made a decision.

  She was going to stay in Uncertainty.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Violet had only been to the Old Firehouse a couple of times, including the night she and Ford played pool, but she was certain it’d never looked like this before.

  Pink balloo
ns that said yay! same penis forever! floated in clumps around the room, glittery streamers stood out against the exposed redbrick walls, and bouquets of blush-colored roses adorned tables, along with shaft-shaped silver confetti. It was very Cinderella meets Passion Party Barbie, where you were just as likely to find a glass slipper as a glass dildo.

  So far, every dude who’d walked inside the sports bar promptly backed out.

  Lexi fluffed her platinum curls. “I put a sign on the door warning them the place had been reserved for a bachelorette party—as if everyone in town doesn’t already know—but that people over twenty-one can enter at their own risk.”

  Fuchsia lips that perfectly matched the decor curved into a pixyish grin. “I think the men of Uncertainty are curious until they see the intimidatingly large four-foot inflatable penis.”

  Violet snorted. Earlier, as she and Lexi had taken turns blowing up the thing for the ring toss game, the male bartender kept eyeing them. He’d run into tables and stools and spilled countless drinks as the novelty item grew bigger and bigger with all the, um, blowing.

  Poor guy would need to be gratuitously tipped for volunteering to work this party. Then again, he was about to get an education on women for free, and wasn’t that—as the commercials say—priceless?

  Lucia Murphy, on the other hand, had her fists on her hips as she studied the peachy pink atrocity. “It’s been so long, I almost forgot what they look like. Either my memory no what it used to be, or they change in the past decade. And why is it smiling at me?”

  The cartoon face with its creeptastically large grin didn’t fall into the realistic category, but again, neither did the size. “Dicks are always more than happy to smile at a beautiful woman.”

  Lucia giggled like a teenager. “Oh, you.” She bussed Violet on the cheek before pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “I like you. You decided to stay in our little town, yes?”

  “Yes.” Excitement swirled through her belly. After the grand opening, she’d almost texted Ford the good news, but she thought it’d be more fun to deliver in person. Waiting hadn’t been easy, considering he’d been fishing with Easton all day yesterday. “I’m moving to Uncertainty.”