by Liza Kendall
She pressed her lips together, flattening them. Granddad should be here. He, of all people, owed it to Jake to be here. She didn’t care if she had to pay for his ticket herself, but she was going to go get him, drag his bony butt here by force if she had to.
A brilliant excuse for getting out of Dodge! But she couldn’t get to where Progress was parked without heading straight in Jake’s direction. Ugh.
Charlie homed in on the one thing that hadn’t gone swimmingly: the blue plastic porta-potty being unloaded in the middle of the party. Something, Lila claimed, went wrong at every event. Oh well. Better a late porta-potty than none.
Charlie hurried over to the man sliding the awkward, unglamorous thing off a flatbed trailer. He had a long gray ponytail that matched his baggy gray sweatshirt. “Hi,” she said, producing her most professional smile. “Does anyone need to sign paperwork for this?”
“Darlin’, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Porta Man said with a leer as the fake diamond in his ear winked in the dying sun. He looked her up and down, then whistled. “You can sign anything you want.”
“Ha,” she said awkwardly.
“Preferably on my naked body.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Funny.” Charlie turned to retreat but realized that Jake was only a few yards away. Oh God. Had he seen her? She spun back toward her admirer.
“You know, this is only a side business for me,” he said, too casually. “My real job is day trading . . .”
“Oh, really? Great. That’s great.” Wait. Was she hallucinating, or had Jake been pushing Granddad, of all people, in a wheelchair?
Charlie craned her neck and peered out of the corner of her eye. Dear Lord, that was Granddad. But when had he been discharged from the hospital? And why would he be escorted by Jake Braddock? Willingly?
Porta Man touched his earring in what seemed to be a gesture of self-love. “And I actually own a number of properties out in—”
Jake had stopped at the cake table, looking confused. Then he saw the huge banner that stretched across the back side of the damaged Old Barn: WELCOME TO SILVERLAKE’S FIRST FIREMEN’S BALL! His mouth fell open. And his gaze homed in, unfortunately, on Charlie.
Instantly, Charlie wanted to disappear. He didn’t look delighted or excited. He didn’t look enchanted by her. He looked almost angry.
“Excuse me,” she said to Porta Man. And she sidestepped him, closing herself neatly into the blue plastic cube he’d unloaded. With a trembling hand, she secured the door and trapped herself inside.
Oh, nice move, Charlie. You coward!
At least it was completely clean, smelling of disinfectant. And she still had her wine.
Even nicer. Drinking in a porta-potty. That is classy with a “k”!
Charlie aimed an imaginary middle finger at the mocking voice in her own head. Then she raised the glass defiantly and gulped.
What is wrong with you? Wearing another woman’s reject wedding gown, hiding in a public toilet from the man you’ve always secretly loved . . .
“That’s ridiculous,” she said aloud. “I do not love him.”
But she did. There was no escaping it. She loved Jake Braddock. She loved the way he always looked just a little bit rumpled. She loved the subtle threads of silver appearing here and there in his dark curls. She loved the faint shadows under his eyes. She even loved his outrage when she’d defended him to her family.
“I can’t love him,” she said to the blue plastic walls, which didn’t appear particularly interested. “I don’t even live here. Our history is way too complicated. And I just destroyed his job.”
The blue plastic remained unmoved by her protests.
Why did I do that? Destroy his job?
Because you were spineless.
I wasn’t! Granddad was having a medical episode! A heart attack!
Because he was throwing a tantrum, like a two-year-old, over getting his way.
She was making herself crazy.
Charlie nearly jumped out of Bridezilla’s wedding gown as a none-too-gentle knock came on the door.
“Hey, you done in there yet? I really need to pee.” Lila’s voice.
“Go away!” ordered Charlie, as a text came in on her phone, which she’d jammed into the bust of her gown. Brandon: I’m not gonna make the wedding.
Surprise, surprise.
But I’ll try and visit soon.
Now that was a surprise.
“Come out of there, Charlie the Chicken. That’s a public facility, not your personal meditation chamber. And there’s now officially a line. Your grandfather has to go.”
Charlie leaned her forehead against the blue wall and banged it gently, once, then twice. Then she drained her wine, shoved her phone back into its hiding spot, faced the door, and unlocked it. She squared her shoulders and pushed the door open slowly, coming face-to-face with an exasperated Lila.
Jake and Granddad stood behind her. All three of them raised their eyebrows at the wineglass in her hand. Several other party guests looked on.
“Oh, shut up,” she muttered, feeling a flush rising from her neck to her forehead.
“Didn’t say a word,” Lila said. But her tone was full of irony.
Stone-faced, Jake pushed Granddad forward.
“When did you get out of the hospital?” Charlie asked Granddad. “And since when are you two getting along?”
“Since some people don’t answer their phones and have started drinking in the john,” the old man jibed. “Which means other people have to come get their ailing relatives.”
“Granddad, I’m sorry . . . I was busy . . .”
“What the hell happened to Will’s wedding?” he barked.
Charlie sighed. “It’s complicated. Ask him. He’s bartending.”
“Gonna greet the guest of honor properly?” Lila asked, changing the subject and inclining her head toward her brother.
Jake remained expressionless.
“Uh . . .” Charlie stepped out of the loo and edged around him, so close that she caught his scent: leather, the outdoors, freshly mown grass.
He didn’t turn a hair.
Lila blundered on. “Jake, this whole event was Charlie’s idea, you know . . .” Subtle as a heifer at the hairdresser’s.
Shut up, Lila!
Charlie stole a sidelong glance at him, but his expression remained enigmatic. She could discern no warmth and no forgiveness in those black Braddock eyes. Well, what had she expected?
His sister kept flailing. “She’s worked very hard to pull this off . . .”
“Oh, clearly,” Jake said after a pause during which even Lila squirmed. “She deserves a medal of commendation.”
Ouch. It was all Charlie needed to hear. She turned away, ready to flee again, just as Granddad cleared his throat.
“Young Braddock, my granddaughter’s not at fault here—”
Charlie stiffened. No. She was done with being spineless. It’s time to own up to my part in this and take responsibility. Like it or not. She turned back around. “Yes, actually she is.”
They all stared at her.
“I am at fault. Granddad is about to say that he bullied me into standing up for him at the town council meeting. But the truth is that I should have told him no, especially since I didn’t feel comfortable doing it.
“And, Jake, I should have given you a heads-up long before the day of the meeting, but I was afraid to mention it because . . . the timing was so awkward . . . and I didn’t want to upset you. So because neither of those options was emotionally comfortable for me, I avoided them.” She swallowed and wiped her damp palms on Bridezilla’s dress.
“That’s on me. And I have to face up to that. I allowed myself to be manipulated by you, Granddad, because you threw a tantrum. And by doing so, and then by sticking my head in the sand, I b
lindsided and essentially betrayed you, Jake—for the second time.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Don’t you dare cry. Suck it up.
She swallowed the lump of shame blocking her throat. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
No reaction from Jake.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, wishing he would say something, anything. Wasn’t owning up to your failings supposed to bring relief? Freedom from guilt? Praise of some kind from somewhere?
Charlie stood there, miserable. Maybe God was up there cheering, but she couldn’t hear Him. That was for sure.
“So you think a party makes up for it?” Now the raw anger escaped him and shimmered accusingly in the air. His eyes blazed with contempt.
“No,” she said, her voice low. “No, I don’t. I don’t think it comes anywhere close to undoing the damage. But . . . I love you, Jake. I always have. I always will. So . . . I had to start somewhere.”
He just stared at her.
Say something. Say anything. Say you love me, too.
But not a word crossed his lips. His mouth tightened; he clenched and unclenched his hands.
Enter Porta Man, who spied Lila from not so afar and lumbered back over. “Mamacita! You are looking muy bueno. You promised me a dance, remember?” He gestured at the blue cube. “For delivering the Johnny-on-the-spot?”
Lila squinted balefully at him from behind her fan. “Right. Hello, handsome. Nice timing.”
* * *
Charlie walked away, looking forlorn and defeated. Jake was pissed at himself for being pissed, but he couldn’t help it, which pissed him off even more.
“That went well,” said cranky old Kingston Nash.
“Shut it, old-timer,” growled Jake.
“Wish I could, but I’m too dang old to have tact or restraint. I did have a full-blown tantrum and worked myself into a heart attack. So excuse her if she freaked. Now, don’t be a dumb-ass. You love her right back—it’s as plain as the nose on your face. And take it from a long-married man: If you love her, then it really don’t matter if you’re offended or if she’s wrong. It’s your job to get over yourself an’ make it right. You get what I’m saying?”
“No.”
“Well, guess what? I don’t care. Because I gotta pee. So take your mind off things and get me into that bathroom, or you’re gonna have to change me like a baby.”
Reluctantly, Jake laughed. “Okay,” he said. But his eyes stayed on Charlie as she moved away through the crowd.
“I’ll help him,” said Mick from behind. “You go on.”
“Aw, great. Another pervert who wants to see me with my pants down,” groused Kingston.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Jake nodded his thanks. “Mick has been dying to get a glimpse of your dried-out old salami,” he said, and then went after Charlie.
“Oh yeah,” Mick said. “For years now . . .”
Charlie’s head was down, her pale neck vulnerable as she sped off, his Goodbye Girl. She was already a least a hundred yards ahead of him, making for the bar. Damn, the woman could walk fast when humiliated.
Her voice echoed in his head. I had to start somewhere.
Jake looked around at the hundreds—if not a thousand— who’d come out to show their support for the Fire and Rescue crew. He was honestly floored. Touched beyond belief. And they had come out at her request. For him.
He felt awkward, weird, as if he saw them all from under a body of water. Like a psychological school of fish, a flood of emotions circled right under his skin, looking for a bite.
People grinned at him, high-fived him, raised their drinks to him, and slapped him on the back. Ordinarily, he would have loved it. But it slowed his progress toward Charlie.
He thanked them for coming out tonight, for their support. He felt his mouth moving, heard words coming out in his voice, but they didn’t seem like his own.
I love you, Jake. I always have. I always will.
When he finally bellied up to the bar, Charlie was gone.
* * *
Charlie sat on a hay bale behind the Old Barn, forlorn in Bridezilla’s remade gown. It wasn’t very comfortable; the straw prickled her backside. Noises from the party reached her: music from the band; the clinking of glasses; the chime of cutlery against plates; the murmur of voices; and the ring of laughter.
Her last visual had been of Lila getting Carolina Shagged by Porta Man on the dance floor. Will had given Charlie a second glass of wine, which she now nursed along with her regrets. A lot of them.
A goat stared at her from a small pen nearby, occasionally asking her, “Meh?”
“Don’t ask me,” she said. “You’re clearly smarter than I am.”
“Meh,” said the goat again.
“What’s the meaning of life?” Charlie asked it.
She almost fell off the hay bale when it answered, in Jake Braddock’s deep baritone. “The meaning of life is a girl who drives you crazy.”
Jake stepped into view, and her heart did a slow roll. Oh.
“She wears silly boots to climb ladders,” he continued. “And she falls off them. She refuses to stay in the past, where she belongs. She won’t speak to me for years but stays friends with my annoying little sister. She lets herself be bullied by a foul-mouthed geezer, but she throws drinks in my defense . . . right before going on the offense. Worst of all, she says goodbye when I want to say hello.”
“She sounds like a real pain in the butt,” Charlie said weakly.
He nodded. “You have no idea.”
“I might.”
“She is the kind of person,” Jake said, “who would trick a man into wearing a tuxedo to a nonexistent wedding so that he looks like a complete moron.”
“Or the star of the show,” she offered.
“And what a show it is.” For the first time, his lips curved into a smile, and Charlie felt that the sun had come out after a long, cold winter.
“How did you pull this off?” he asked.
“Uh. I’m not sure?”
“You must have had all of twenty-four hours.”
“Lila was instrumental in planning it, too. So was Declan.”
“Traitors,” he said softly but without any heat.
“But it takes an entire town to turn out like this, Jake.” She gestured toward the party. “All of Silverlake, young and old. And they did it for you. Because they love you.”
She was taken aback when tears sprang to his eyes.
“I love them, too.” His voice was gruff. “But more importantly . . .”
She waited, breathless.
“Thank you, Charlie.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping he’d say. Ridiculous, the disappointment. “You don’t need to—”
“Yes. I do.” He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry for being harsh. I was hurt.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Now. What you said back there . . .”
She waited, still unable to breathe.
Nothing.
Okay. He wasn’t going to say it back. Well. That was fine. That was just fine. She’d get over him. She’d leave tonight. Right now.
This was excruciating. Awful. The hay dug more needles of pain into her backside, the silk of Felicity’s cast-off dress offering little protection.
Abruptly, Charlie got up. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Don’t worry about it.”
Jake stared at her as if she’d sprouted a rhinoceros horn. “You said it in front of witnesses, you know.”
“Yeah. Heh. In the heat of the moment. By the porta-potty. You know. Just flush it.”
His eyebrows drew together. He stepped closer to her, and she backed up.
He came closer still. She sat down again, wobbling on the hay bale.
He leaned over and put one hand to either side o
f her. He smelled so wonderful and she was so very tempted to kiss him, and yet she was so humiliated that she could die. Right here, right now. Not happy. But with the memory of his face seared into her mind. At least there was that.
“Charlie?”
“Wh-what?”
“You said, ‘I love you, Jake. I always have. And I always will.’ Did you not say those words, in front of God and everyone?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“And did you mean them?”
Mute, she nodded again. Oh, kill me now. Someone. Something. Anything.
But then, miraculously, Jake’s expression relaxed. And it told her everything she needed to know.
Charlie felt all the tension and misery drain out of her, making her one with the hay bale as a thousand little stalks impaled her backside. One hundred percent worth it, though.
Because then Jake cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth gentle on hers. “I love you, too, Charlie. I always have. And I always will.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“Because it was more fun to watch you fall on your face in the mud? Run you down with my truck? Make you chug wine in a porta-potty?”
“You’re a very sick and twisted man, Jake Braddock,” she said severely.
“True. But you wouldn’t have me any other way . . . and I’d walk through fire for you.”
Oh, Jake . . .
He kissed her again.
Charlie kissed him right back—until the goat downright blushed, the bright silver moon pulled a cloud over its eyes, and the hay bale told them to get a room.
At last, Jake pulled away. “Since you’ve gone to all this trouble, don’t you think we should at least attend the party for a while?”
She nodded.
“And then, Charlie . . .” Jake looked off into the distance, toward the welcoming lights of the main house. “Maybe you’d walk me home.”
She smiled as tears gathered in her eyes, and she took the big, warm hand he extended to her. “Yes, Jake. I can’t think of anything in this world that I’d rather do.”