He stroked her hand. “Why did you want to do this? Clarissa and Lola are perfectly capable of finding a pale pink dress.”
“I never said they weren’t. I just want to help.” Fidgeting with the end of her seat belt, she added, “Plus, I wanted you to see that I’m over my fear of flying. I know you’re worried about my panic attacks, but you need to know I’m better.”
“Are you?” He didn’t mean to put her on the spot, but he was on the verge of sharing his life with her. If he knew for sure she was better, he’d stop worrying about her. If not, he wanted to make sure she got the best medical care.
“Yes. Of course. You don’t believe me?” Her eyes pooled.
“It’s not that,” he assured her while flight attendants prepared the cabin for landing. “I love you, care about you. You claim to be magically better, but how do you know? Virtually anything could trigger another attack.”
Sighing, she turned to gaze out the window. “Do we have to do this now? This trip was supposed to have been fun.”
“It will be.” He took her hand and brushed her palm with his thumb. “I’m sorry I upset you. That’s not at all what I’d intended.”
“What did you intend, Brady?”
Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he said, “I don’t know. Again, I’m sorry I even brought it up. I thought the whole panic thing was isolated to flying. You’re not in the air that often, so taking a pill for relief is a no-brainer. But when you flipped out wedding dress shopping… We’re talking a whole new ball game.”
“I hardly flipped out.” Beneath the cabin, the landing gear clunked into position. Stephanie had a death grip on her seat’s armrests.
“An issue of semantics,” he said, trying to stay calm. “Even if you were, let’s say, unsettled, it’s something I’d like you to get checked out.”
“You want me to go to a shrink?” Expression mortified, she said under her breath, “My doctor—the one I’ve been with for over a decade—seems to think I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me that an occasional dose of medicine won’t fix.”
Not wanting to rock the boat—or her mood—any further, he acquiesced. “You’re right. I’m overreacting, and the fact that you’ve made it through this flight with no incidents proves you’ve already made progress.”
Snorting, she said, “Thanks for at least admitting that. No matter what you and my friends and my melodramatic sister think, when I’m with you, I don’t have a care in the world.”
Great. But what about the times when she wasn’t with him?
“STEPHANIE,” CLARISSA SAID, holding open her front door. To say the house was merely beautiful would be a major understatement. “It’s been too long. Lola chats about you and your adorable twins all the time.”
“I’ve heard about you, too,” Stephanie said, brushing past her one-time friend with her sleek dark hair and legs that went on for miles. Compared to her, Steph felt like an Oompa Loompa straight out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Lola wasn’t yet home from school, and while Brady was outside roughhousing with a lovable sheepdog, Clarissa pulled her aside. “I owe you an apology.”
“Oh?” Forgiveness requests seemed to be the day’s theme.
“I was mortified when Lola told me she’d told you that I’d called you some, well, unflattering names. It was a bitch move, and I’m sorry. Things with Brady have been tough. Sometimes I find myself just wanting all of this drama to end.” With a sad laugh, she added, “Ironic how this time, I was the one to start it.”
Taken aback by Clarissa’s words, she said, “Um, thanks. I covered for you with Lola as best I could.”
“I know.” Covering her face with her hands, she ad mitted, “Lola reported back with your new-and-improved definitions for my words. You acted classy, whereas her own mother did her a disservice. Again, I’m sorry, and I hope we can pick up where we last left off.”
“Um…” Surprised by this turn of events, Steph grasped the woman’s outstretched hand. “If you’ll recall, the last time we were together involved lampshades and way too many margaritas.”
They shared a long, cleansing laugh.
“Oh, Steph, I can’t believe it’s really been that long since we all hung out. Who would’ve thought dear, funny Michael would be gone and you and Brady would end up together? Crazy, huh?”
Throat aching, all Stephanie could manage was a nod.
“What’s going on?” Brady asked, smelling of conifers and the light rain that’d started to fall. After the dog bounded inside, Brady closed the door.
“We’re getting reacquainted,” Clarissa said. Moving through the open floor plan with gracious ease, she headed for the kitchen. “And for the record, I think you’ve made an excellent choice for your future bride.” Eyes tearing, complexion pale, Clarissa forced cheer. “Now, how about I fix you two up with a nice, hot mug of hot chocolate or tea?”
With a tense quality to his tone that Stephanie hadn’t heard before, Brady said, “I’ll take a beer.”
“DAD!” AN HOUR’S WORTH of excruciatingly awkward small talk later, Lola burst into the house, tossing her book bag to the floor before hurtling herself into Brady’s arms. Behind her stood Vince. A taller, thinner, three-years-younger version of Brady who hadn’t been out of a suit since third grade. Oh—and Brady forgot to add that Vince also struck him as being perpetually uptight. “I missed you!”
“I missed you, too, pumpkin.” Burying his face in her now curly hair, she smelled like peaches. “I’m loving all of these curls. What happened to the straightener?”
“It broke. Mom and I decided that even though Becky likes my hair straight, we like it with my natural wave.”
“Great decision,” he said, nodding as if they’d decided upon world peace.
“And, Stephanie!” Flinging herself a short distance sideways on the sofa, the little girl landed on his fiancée’s lap. “I can’t wait to find a dress!”
Brady loved the way his daughter once again spoke in exclamations. It returned him to the joy of his childhood. The way he’d had no worries other than what to do with his day. Fishing. Beachcombing. Playing pirate with Vince and their friends. Endless possibilities. Endless fun. He wanted the same for his daughter. Judging by her smiling reunion with Stephanie, his choice of stepmoms was spot-on. And if Lola’s devotion to her was any indication, his worries about Stephanie being emotionally off were unfounded.
From now on, he wouldn’t look for trouble where there was none. Like his jubilant little girl, with Stephanie by his side, he would laugh and live and love.
Thirty minutes later, while Lola showed Steph her tree house, Brady found his way back inside to catch Clarissa and Vince kissing. A few months earlier, the sight would’ve sent him over the edge. Now, he was happy that Clarissa was in a good place. It made it all the easier for him to move on to his own slice of happiness.
Clearing his throat, he said, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk.”
“Sure, bro.” Vince had loosened his tie and unfastened the top couple of buttons of his starched white shirt. “What’s up?”
As if tensing for an ambush, Clarissa tightened her grip on Vince’s waist.
“First off, relax.” He tried smiling, and found it wasn’t the impossibility it used to be whenever he was around these two. “I don’t want to fight anymore, but apologize.”
Their mutual relieved sigh was audible.
“Oh, come on,” he said with a half smile, “have things between us really been that bad?”
Both nodding, their smiles were tentative.
Ramming his hands in his jean pockets, Brady looked away. Ashamed that as the older of the two, he’d let things between him and his brother deteriorate to this level.
“Brady,” Vince finally said, “you’ve gotta know neither of us planned for this—us—to happen.”
“Yeah. I know. I screwed up and you were there to pick up the pieces.”
“It was hardly that simple
,” Clarissa said. “You and I, Brady, we just crumpled. Like the foundation of our marriage had been torn out from under us. In a hundred years, I don’t think we could pinpoint every little thing that went wrong. And at this point, why would we want to?”
Nodding, a muscle working in his jaw, Brady figured that just about summed it up. Somewhere in between his reunion with Steph, he’d lost the will to fight. His animosity for two of his former best friends was gone. In its place grew cautious optimism that in the future, for Lola’s sake, and even their own, they might once again be friends.
AS WOULD ANY TRUE PRINCESS, on Saturday, with Stephanie by her side, Lola proudly picked her own flower girl dress. It was shell-pink with a skirt sprinkled in crystals and darker pink silk roses. Admiring her self in the dressing room mirror, she said, “Becky’s gonna be soooo jealous.”
Laughing, Stephanie said, “I’ve got to meet this girl before your dad and I head back to Arkansas.”
“Okay,” she said, twirling in a circle with her arms stretched wide. “I’ll ask Mom if she can sleep over.”
“That sounds fun.” Gathering the dresses Lola hadn’t chosen from a burgundy velvet bench, Steph said, “When they get older, you’ll have to teach the twins how to have the perfect sleepover party.”
“Okay.” Shimmying free of her dress, she asked, “Where are you and my dad going on your honeymoon?”
“You know, we’ve been so busy planning for the ceremony that I haven’t even thought about it.”
“Becky says that’s when grown-ups go someplace fun without their kids so that they can kiss and stuff.” She tugged on purple jeans and a sparkly white unicorn sweater. “Sounds gross to me, but the vacation part would be okay.”
Biting back a laugh, Steph strove to match the girl’s solemn expression. “I agree,” she said with a stern nod. “I’ll have to tell your father that wherever we go, I want more fun and less kissing. Blech.”
Lola held up her hand for a high five.
Stephanie met it, but only halfway. “Let me try that again,” she said, this time meeting the girl’s palm square-on.
“Why are you shaking?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, telling the truth. “Probably wedding nerves.”
In all seriousness, Lola said, “Becky talks a lot about those. She said her mom’s favorite medicine for that is vodka.”
“HOW DID THE SHOPPING GO?” Brady asked when Stephanie returned to her hotel room. He’d offered to put her up at his apartment, but out of respect for Lola, she’d politely declined.
“Exhausting, but fun,” she said, collapsing onto one of two cream-colored armchairs in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view of Mount Ranier was impressive, but not nearly as awe-inspiring as his bride.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Putting the Snickers wrapper he’d been using for a bookmark in his adventure novel, he pushed himself up from the bed. He knelt in front of her and rested his head in her lap. Her jeans were still cold from the outside, and smelled woodsy. He loved that about the Northwest. How everything carried with it the reminder that nature was bigger than any of them.
Combing his hair with her fingers, she said, “I’m even more glad to be back. Lola’s quite a handful.”
Chuckling, he glanced up at her. “What trouble did her mouth get her into this time?”
“She not only wanted to know where we were going for our honeymoon, but if we were going to kiss.”
“What did you tell her?” Grasping her hands, he blew warm breath on the tips of her chilled fingers.
“Essentially that we would try not to—kiss.”
“Oh, yeah?” Pushing up the sleeves of her thin red sweater, he said, “So this wouldn’t qualify?” He pressed his lips to her wrists, blazing an erotic trail all the way to her inner elbow.
When she squirmed and giggled, he knew he’d found the right spot.
“Or this?” Raising her sweater’s hem, he forged a leisurely exploration of her abdomen.
“Stop…” She halfheartedly protested even while raising her hips into his kiss. Shaking her head, she made cute panting noises when he unbuttoned her jeans and nipped at her white lace panties. “Never mind… Keep going…”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Pushing aside all clothing blocking his way, he gently parted her legs, kissing her inner thighs and then more. Her hands in his hair, she pulled hard, moaning and bucking after each breathy exhale.
Once she’d cried out in pleasure, he made hasty work of removing his clothes.
Scooping her weak-limbed into his arms, he set her on the bed, proceeding with the all-important business of practicing for their first official night as man and wife.
“AND YOU WERE FINE ON all four legs of your trip to Seattle?” Dr. Naomi Hembro asked the Wednesday before the wedding. Stephanie had loads of much more important matters to attend to, but without telling Brady or her nosy sister and friends, she’d made the appointment more as a reassurance to herself that she was all right than for any of them.
“Absolutely. I didn’t have a lick of trouble.” Remembering their last night in their posh hotel brought on a rush of heat. Luckily a quick glance at her current sterile surroundings brought her overheated imagination back to the normal zone.
“Did you take tranquilizers at least thirty minutes before flying?”
Stephanie nodded while her friend made notes on her chart.
“Describe what happened in the bridal shop. Were you feeling claustrophobic or overheated?”
“No. Best as I can remember, it was sleeting that day, so if anything, I was probably cold.” What she didn’t tell her doctor was that she remembered exactly what’d triggered her irrational fear. Michael. A rush of tangible memories that haunted her to this day.
And then there were the hand tremors, striking out of nowhere with such severity she could hardly sign her name. But that didn’t have anything to do with Brady or the wedding, right?
“Sounds to me as if this is just a case of situational anxiety. Understandably, fear of flying is a trigger to many people. The bridal shop incident, though, still puzzles me.” Jotting more notes, and then writing a name on one of her prescription pad sheets, the woman said, “I want you to speak with a therapist. She’s a longtime friend of mine who specializes in grief management.”
“But I’m fine with what happened to Michael,” Steph protested, not at all pleased that her doctor and future husband were on the same page in regard to her mental health.
“Your loss would be hard for anyone to deal with. Throw in running your own business and single-handedly raising infant twins, and anyone would be under extreme pressure.”
“I love my life,” Stephanie said, fishing through her purse for a stick of cinnamon gum. Her hands shook so badly, she was glad for the cover. “I’m getting married in less than a week and feel better than I ever have.”
Sitting on a low stool, the doctor said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but if everything in your life is so wonderful, why are you here?”
Chapter Sixteen
The doctor’s question bugged Stephanie all the way back to the shop. If her issues with Michael’s death had been resolved, going to her family physician wouldn’t have been necessary. So much in her daily life had changed for the better. Why was she then finding it impossible to forget her former life? Why was she consumed with thoughts that if she did marry Brady, she’d only end up losing him, too? And she wasn’t just caught up in the whole pilot thing. The odds of him also dying in a crash were practically nil. But there were other ways to lose a husband.
Disease.
Another woman.
Being a big enough nut job that he’d rather be single than stay with you….
With Valentine’s Day that weekend, she’d hired three local women for temporary help at the pastry shop. Ordinarily, she and her usual staff would’ve handled the added holiday load, but it’d been a matter of great pride to her to make her own wedding cake.
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She’d already been working on the five-tiered creation for a day, and due to the complex lace icing pattern, she fully expected it to take until Friday to finish.
“Where have you been?” Helen asked, wiping her hands on a white apron. “We’ve got orders backed up, and the register is completely out of change.”
“I’ll run down to the bank,” Stephanie said, neatly sidestepping the issue of where she’d spent the past hour. “Need anything else?”
“You look feverish.” Her friend held the backs of her fingers to Steph’s forehead. “But you don’t feel hot. A good thing being so perilously close to your big day.”
“Be right back,” Stephanie said, taking the large bills from the register and slipping them into a green zippered bank bag.
“Steph, your hands are shaking like a leaf.”
“It’s wicked cold outside. Brrr.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms to emphasize the degree of her chill, and to hide her little white lie about what was truly going on.
She hated dodging Helen, but it was as necessary as getting to the florist to confirm her wedding order.
At the bank, Stephanie ran into two high school friends who asked too many questions about Brady. She was thrilled to be marrying him, but the closer the ceremony came, the more superstitious she grew. As though if she talked about it too much, it might never happen.
“SO THERE WE WERE,” CLARISSA said to everyone assembled at the rehearsal dinner that Olivia and Tag had volunteered to host at their house, “walking for hours up the glacier at Lake Louise, when all of the sudden this momma grizzly and her two cubs stepped out of the woods.” Guzzling the last of her white wine, she signaled to a hired waiter. “Well, you should’ve seen Vince. He squealed like a third-grade girl.”
“Did not,” he protested, “in fact, if I remember correctly, you were the one who said you nearly peed your pants.”
“Yes, but I am a girl,” she pointed out, after which Brady’s parents, Gloria and Charles, practically fell out of their chairs laughing.
The Baby Twins (Babies & Bachelors USA) Page 15
