More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4)

by Sierra Kincade

  She’d thought he needed her patience. But maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe the loss of his wife had affected him too deeply, and he would never trust her not to leave. Maybe he just didn’t feel the same way she did.

  She took a step back.

  Questions formed in his eyes.

  “Is everyone decent over there?” Alec’s voice carried from the back of the gazebo, and Mike quickly turned toward it. She watched as the man who’d just hammered a nail into her heart masked his concern with a grin, and rose to pull his best friend into a one-armed hug.

  “Amy, you look beautiful,” Alec offered, smooth as always. “Gotten into any trouble lately?”

  “First, save it for the bride,” she said, not as sarcastic as she’d intended. “And second, no, thanks largely in part to you, tattle tale.”

  “I’ve been called many things,” he said, one brow hitched to indicate he was aware something was wrong. “But that one’s a first. Anna’s looking for you. She went upstairs to the room.”

  “Great.” She squeezed Alec’s arm on the way by. Regardless what he’d said to Mike after she’d stopped by, he was still a friend.

  “Amy.” It was Mike who said her name, and she could hear the frown in it. She didn’t look back.

  “See you guys at the wedding,” she said, waving over her shoulder, more aware than ever of her own vulnerability, and wondering what the hell she had done giving her heart to a man who couldn’t see a future with her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  After meeting with Alec’s friend, Mac, down in the lobby and assuring that the food was where it was supposed to be, Amy took the elevator to the sixth-floor honeymoon suite. Iris was watching the girls in their room, and Mike was with Alec doing something manly, leaving Amy alone for the next two hours with her best friend.

  She lugged an entire suitcase of styling tools, hair products, and makeup behind her. In her oversized purse she carried an iPod dock, fancy chocolate, and a bottle of wine.

  She was really ready for a glass of wine.

  Mike’s words haunted her: I’m not sure I want to do it all again. She understood this; she’d been married once, and been stupid enough to stay long enough for it go sour. But Mike had opened her eyes to a different world, one of possibilities, and now it was hard to accept that those possibilities had a time limit.

  Memories of what he’d told her about his ex-wife filled her mind. How frightened he must have been at the thought of losing his family. How brave he was to face the fire. The scars it had left couldn’t be covered by tattoos. They were too deeply embedded.

  She kept thinking of how in-the-moment he’d always been with her. He’d always encouraged her to take things slow, one step at a time. It had never occurred to her that this was because he couldn’t see any further. That things, for him, would never be more than they were right now.

  She took a deep breath. This wasn’t a day for drama, it was a day of happiness, and she would be damned if she’d let her own brain drive her into a funk.

  “Knock, knock!” called Amy, pushing into the room through the propped-open door. The suite wasn’t huge, or particularly decadent—Anna and Alec had chosen the location of the beach for sentimental reasons, and the hotel just happened to be here—but it was clean and nice, with lacy white curtains, and a plush white comforter on the bed.

  “Who’s there?” called Anna.

  “Your maid of honor,” said Amy. “And let’s go ahead and stop with the knock knock jokes before things get out of control.”

  Anna emerged from around the partitioned wall wearing a men’s navy button-down shirt. Her legs and feet were bare, and her black, wild hair was tied in a knot at the base of her neck. She was gorgeous, even without makeup, and Amy teared up at the sight of her.

  “Don’t start that shit now,” Anna said, pointing a finger at her. “I won’t have red puffy eyes when I walk down the aisle.”

  “Right,” said Amy. “Sorry. It’s just...you’re getting married!”

  She couldn’t help it. She cried. And then Anna cried. And then they hugged, and screamed, and cried some more.

  “Did you decide what you wanted to do with your hair?” asked Amy, sipping wine from the hotel room’s coffee mug. “I brought everything, just in case.”

  Anna had wavered back and forth between keeping it up and leaving it down. Adding a clip, or using flowers. Three days ago she’d said she was just going to shave it all off.

  “Down,” said Anna. “Down and natural. That’s how he likes it best.”

  Amy smiled. “He’s a good man. I don’t know if I ever told you that.”

  Anna had been plugging in the iPod and hesitated before pressing play. The mix Amy had picked especially for Anna, filled with romantic ballads and dirty pelvis music, filled the air.

  She stood, looking impossibly happy. “It means a lot that you think so. We both snagged good ones, didn’t we? I guess we’ll be doing this next for you.”

  Amy took another sip of wine and gave a muffled, “Mmm hmm.”

  ***

  They talked and sipped wine while Amy did both their hair and makeup, and when it was time for Anna to slip into her dress, an ankle-length A-line cut with lace straps that hung off her shoulders, Amy snapped a million pictures with her phone’s camera. Anna looked gorgeous. Like something out of a fairy tale. Alec was going to be blown away.

  Amy had already changed into her yellow dress, and wore a single clip, decorated by a fanning ring of short feathers Mike had given her, to hold her hair back from her face. A few loose tendrils hung free beside her bangs, and her makeup was light, and flawless. She wished she actually felt light and flawless, but if there was anything Amy did well, it was pretending everything was fine.

  “Ladies,” came a low voice from the doorway.

  Amy spun toward the sound, and found Alec looking like a million dollar playboy in his charcoal suit. His hair curled loosely around his ears, and there was an unfamiliar, humbled look in his blue eyes.

  “No way. Uh uh.” She waved a finger at him. “You can’t see her before the wedding, it’s bad luck.”

  “It’s okay,” said Anna from behind her. “We’ve used up all our bad luck. We only have good luck left.”

  Amy had been trying to block Anna from Alec’s view, but she quickly realized it was no use. She stepped aside, giving a sigh of defeat.

  Alec barely registered Amy. His eyes were for Anna alone, and she held his gaze, a whisper of a smile on her full lips.

  “Amy, I need a minute,” he said, voice faraway.

  “Better make it ten,” said Anna.

  “Yeah, okay,” said Amy. “Rip that dress and I’ll punch you,” she told Alec.

  She didn’t even bother to gather her supplies. She grabbed her purse, and headed out into the hallway. Only when the door clicked behind her did her smile falter. She laid one hand on her stomach.

  She wanted Mike to look at her like that. Want her, like Alec wanted Anna. With a forever look in his eyes.

  She was sure, for maybe the first time, that she wanted him that way.

  She wanted him every way. She wanted to wake up with him, go to bed with him. To accidently burn his dinners and sit beside him at school plays. To make love to him every way imaginable. She wanted to be the first one he told that he’d passed the bar exam, and she wanted him to help her open a new shelter.

  The future opened before her with startling clarity. It stole her breath. She could see all of it now. The house he was working on that they would make their own. Registering the girls for school. The swell of her stomach as they welcomed a new life into their family.

  I’m not sure I want to do it all again.

  If that were true, she would take what she could get.

  On unsteady legs she walked to the elevator, and took it down to the third floor, where she and Mike had a room. Iris was taking the girls home tonight after the reception, but they were here now, and at the raised voices and sudden cr
ash, she tucked her vision away, and hurried toward the unseen chaos.

  “You had your turn!” shouted Paisley.

  “Girls!” said Iris. “You knock that off right now.”

  Amy entered the room to find Mr. Jenkins the teddy bear in the middle of a tug-of-war between the two girls. Chloe had one fluffless arm, Paisley the other, and as they both yanked, Amy heard the distinct sound of a seam popping. Iris was behind Chloe, wrangling the girl by the back of her pink T-shirt.

  “Stop!” Amy shouted, loudly enough to snap them both to attention. “What is going on?”

  Iris released Chloe, and with a throaty humph, crossed her arms over her chest.

  “He’s mine,” said Chloe.

  “You have to share,” said Paisley. “Iris said.”

  Amy calmly walked forward and took the poor bear, imagining his relief when their little hands released him.

  “If you can’t play nice, you don’t get to play at all,” she said sternly. “Mr. Jenkins needs a break. He’s going into time out.”

  She walked around the corner to the bathroom, set him on the counter, and shut the door.

  “That’s not fair!” howled Chloe.

  “It’s my turn!” Paisley’s cheeks were red as tomatoes. “You’re mean. You’re a bitch!”

  Amy felt her chin pull in. Her hands fell to the sides. Silence enveloped the room. Paisley looked immediately sorry; her eyes filled with panic.

  Ouch, thought Amy. She wondered if getting stabbed repeatedly by a fork in the eyeball felt this bad.

  “Paisley,” said Iris slowly. Amy held up her hand.

  “Paisley, where’d you hear that word?”

  Her daughter started at the floor. “Nowhere.”

  Iris made a sound in her throat that Amy took to mean, probably from you. She ignored it, because Iris was probably right, and either way it didn’t matter where she’d heard it, just that she had and she’d repeated it. She looked to Chloe, and was surprised to find the little girl staring at the floor, as if she was the one in trouble. She’d never seen Chloe so quiet before, and it struck her as terribly wrong.

  “Do you know what it means?” Amy asked.

  “It’s a swear.”

  Swallowing her hurt, Amy knelt before her little girl, who was vibrating in anger, as if her little body couldn’t hold that much emotion. “Words like that make people feel bad, you understand?”

  She kicked at the carpet with her little white sandal.

  “We don’t say them to people we love. We don’t say them to anyone.”

  Paisley started to cry. Amy’s heart clenched. She wanted to take her daughter into her arms and tell her it was okay, but knew this was something she couldn’t let pass.

  “Can you say you’re sorry?” asked Iris.

  A second later Paisley was in Amy’s arms. They hugged for a long time, Paisley’s tears staining the shoulder of her dress, her little body quaking.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  When all was forgiven, Amy helped her into her Ariel costume, and took pictures of her standing next to Chloe, dressed as a brown horse, the nose hanging over her eyes.

  ***

  Time seemed to double its speed over the next hour. The few guests that were invited, arrived. Her mother, who’d called yesterday to say she was still in town and would be attending the wedding, only offered a brief hello, glancing at Mike like he might be diseased. Thomas, Alec’s father, accompanied by his seeing-eye dog, Askem, hugged her tightly and told her Mike better watch it, because he had his eye on her. Marcos and Derrick arrived separately, and sat in different rows.

  When the time came for them to walk down the aisle, Mike took her arm. He was wearing the suit he’d brought from home, only there was a scarf hanging loosely around his neck she hadn’t seen before. Yellow, just like her dress. A perfect color match.

  “I like the accessories,” she said. He looked dapper, all sex in his suit, but with a flair of rebellion that somehow made her feel like she’d just taken a punch to the gut.

  He smiled. “Maybe I’ve got a bit of Amy in me.”

  “Maybe later I’ll have a bit of Mike in me.”

  His grip on her arm tightened.

  “Think they’d notice if we disappeared?” he asked.

  She smiled, though she still felt unsteady when she looked at her daughter. Paisley wasn’t mean-spirited, but what she’d said to Amy had been in anger. It was one of those teachable moments she wished they could have just skipped.

  “My mom told me what happened with the girls,” he said a moment later, as if reading her mind.

  “I took care of it.”

  He glanced down at her. “Of course you did.”

  She smiled brightly when she felt her mother appraising them coldly.

  “Is everything all right?” Mike asked. The same worry she’d heard in his voice when she’d left him with Alec at the gazebo was back.

  “Everything’s great. Come on.” She urged him forward down the aisle when Mac, who was officiating the ceremony, gave them a little wave.

  Alec followed, Iris on one arm. She wore a plum-colored dress with a lace overlay, and a big, fabulous hat that Alec had to dip down beneath so that he could kiss her cheek. The girls came after, walking hand in hand as if they hadn’t just been fighting, and weren’t dressed in the most opposite apparel they could have found. Everyone laughed, especially Alec, who gave them both a high-five at the makeshift altar.

  And then Anna came, just as the sun was setting over the water. She was beautiful; the happiest Amy had ever seen her. Her father’s eyes were red as he hugged her and shook Alec’s hand.

  Alec didn’t wait for Mac to start the ceremony. He kissed Anna the moment her father sat down. It was a movie kiss; sweet and soul-wrenching, and everyone cheered.

  As night fell over the water, they ate tamales from one of Anna’s clients, and tacos from Mac, and danced in the sand outside the gazebo to music piped in on the iPod. Amy kept busy, making sure everything ran smoothly, making sure everyone had what they needed, pretending she hadn’t died a little inside when her six-year-old daughter had called her a bitch.

  She would have been lying if she said she wasn’t avoiding Mike.

  That was, until he asked her mother to dance.

  She tracked them around the sandy floor, wondering what they were talking about. Her mother’s face was drawn tight, her hand too loose in his. Surely she had a quarter cup of sand in each of her black pumps, which wouldn’t help her disposition. Mike smiled often and easily though, impervious to her negativity. She wished she had his Teflon armor.

  She was spying on them from beside a mopey Derrick when Marcos blocked her view, looking uncomfortable and twitchy in his sky-blue sweater and slacks.

  “Do you want to dance?” he asked gruffly.

  Derrick scoffed, his gaze shooting to Amy. The hurt was there, beneath a layer of sass and silver eye shadow.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said.

  Derrick glanced up at Marcos, now shifting from side to side.

  “You don’t dance,” Derrick said.

  “Actually, he does,” said Amy. “I’ve seen it. It’s terrifying.”

  “I imagine so,” said Derrick. He leaned back in his foldout chair, sizing Marcos up. “There are a lot of people around.”

  Marcos moved closer. “I don’t care.”

  Amy, sensing she’d become an intruder, tried to make a subtle escape, but Derrick grabbed her hand. Behind Marcos, Mike led her mother toward Iris, who wrapped her in a hug. Her mother remained stiff as a board. The girls spun around the circle, dancing to the song of their own giggles.

  “Your boss is here, Marcos,” Derrick said.

  Amy looked to where he motioned, and saw Anna’s father talking to his friend Terry Benitez, a detective on the Tampa PD.

  “I don’t care,” said Marcos again. And then a barely audible, “I miss you.”

  It was all there in those three words. I miss you. I
need you. I love you. I am not ashamed.

  Derrick’s face changed, his façade crumbling. He rose, and before he could say anything else, Marcos grasped his face and kissed him. Stunned, Derrick didn’t move, didn’t even lift his hands. Across the gazebo, someone cheered.

  Derrick smiled. And then Marcos heaved out a breath, and kissed him again.

  Amy watched them, torn by the swelling of her chest and the cracking of her heart. She remembered the way Mike had looked at her when he’d realized her own mother didn’t even know who he was. She wanted to do what Marcos had done; walk right up to him, tell him she loved him, kiss him with the whole world watching. Prove to him that there wasn’t a time limit on love.

  She walked straight across the floor, straight through the dancers, right past the bride and groom.

  “Mike.”

  When he turned from her mother, she stood on her tip-toes, grabbed his beautiful yellow scarf, and pulled him down for a smoldering kiss. His hands found her waist, and fisted her dress as his eyelids grew heavy. She remembered what he’d said about not wanting to be married, having already done it before. But she had him now and she wasn’t letting him go.

  She smiled against his mouth as the sounds from around them came back into focus.

  Her mother cleared her throat.

  Amy lowered onto her heels, and faced her mother, expecting judgment, prepared for a fight.

  But her mother, cheeks rosy, gave her a small smile.

  “The wedding was really beautiful. You did a good job.”

  Amy glanced at Mike. What had they been talking about?

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Candace!” called Anna, approaching with a secret wink Amy’s direction. “Come tell me what’s new at church.” She linked their arms and pulled her mother toward the refreshment area.

  Anna always came through, even at her own wedding.

  “Your mom’s getting ready to take the girls home,” Amy said quietly. “And Mac and the dads want to clean up.”

  “Okay,” said Mike.

  “Come upstairs with me,” she said. “I want you naked.”