Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

I leaned back in my chair and smiled at him. "That's so sweet. Thank you."

  "You're welcome. So?"

  "I don't much care about the almonds," I said, then giggled at the faux-horrified look he gave me. "But I'm not opposed to them either, and everything else seems fine."

  "Good." He nodded slowly. "Very good. If you need anything, let me know, okay? I want your wedding to be perfect for you. It's your dream day, after all."

  I'd seen that very phrase on the cruise ship's literature but I didn't let on. "Thanks."

  "Anything I can do now?"

  I nearly said, "Can you get Owen out of the casino for an hour?" but instead just smiled and said, "Everything's dreamy."

  Chapter Nine

  "Mind if I join you?"

  Wendy and I looked up to see Steph from the spa standing beside us.

  "Of course not." Wendy pushed out a barstool with her foot.

  We smiled at each other as she sank into the seat, and she said, "So. What have you guys been up to since this morning?"

  Wendy told her about having lunch with Mark and then taking a swim and sunbathing on the deck before emailing me to have a drink with her, and I listened and nodded and tried not to think about my own day.

  After the wedding stuff, I went looking for Owen but couldn't spot him in the casino so I wandered around the ship for a bit then settled down at the quiet pool to work on my book. I didn't make any real progress, since poor Larry and Lizzie still stood staring at the smoky monster, but I rearranged a few sentences so they seemed a little clearer. Not much result for an hour of work, though.

  Then I had lunch, by myself since I didn't know where anyone else was, and at the end Austin showed up with several other guys and promptly ditched them to hang out with me. I sipped coffee and nibbled an amazing slice of chocolate cake while he ate his lunch, then we stayed for at least another hour chatting. He'd been so sweet and friendly that it had been almost like being with Wendy, except for the occasional sparks when he said something particularly provocative or our eyes met in a certain way, and spending so much time with him had been both lovely and confusing. When Wendy emailed me, I'd leapt at the chance to escape the situation before things got too tangled up.

  "Nice," Steph said when Wendy finished. "And you, Mel?"

  Wendy nudged her. "She prefers Melissa."

  She gave me an apologetic grin before I could say it was okay. "As one always-abbreviated name to another, I'm sorry. Don't call me Steph and I won't call you Mel. Deal?"

  She held out her fist, and I bumped mine against it and said, "Deal."

  "Good stuff. How'd the wedding planning go?"

  I shrugged. "It's all fine, I think. The chapel's pretty, and the great roses battle seems to have settled down."

  "Battle of the roses," Wendy said, and we laughed.

  "Doesn't everyone die in that book or something?"

  "Don't remember," I said to Stephanie, "but I know it's not a good ending."

  "Well, let's hope yours is better. So, how big a wedding are you having?"

  I looked at Wendy then back at Stephanie. "This is my wedding party right here."

  "Not that she needs anything more, of course," Wendy put in.

  "Not that I could stand anything more." I dodged Wendy's attempted punch then went on. "For attendees, we have my mother, Owen's mother, his two brothers, and one brother's girlfriend. Oh, and Wendy's boyfriend Mark. I think that's it."

  Stephanie blinked. "Wow. My wedding party is bigger than that."

  "Seriously?"

  She nodded. "We decided a year ago to get married on this cruise, so lots of people decided to save up and come along. Truly, I don't think we'd have any more people if we'd stayed home."

  "Where's home?" Wendy asked.

  "Portland. You guys?"

  "Toronto," we said together, then giggled.

  "Cool. Did you want such a small wedding?"

  Wendy shifted in her chair and Stephanie said, "Oh. Sorry."

  "No, it's okay." I sighed and explained how quickly we'd gotten engaged and why our group was so small.

  "That's crazy romantic, though. Not even three months before the proposal." She rolled her eyes. "I'd been with Rob for six years, and he comes home one day and drops a ring box in my lap and says, 'Here, you might as well wear this.' Not exactly the stuff of fairy tales."

  It sounded awful, but she smiled so I smiled back, feeling a little better about my relationship with Owen. Yes, he was in the casino a lot, but at least he hadn't just thrown my ring at me. Not even Austin would consider that an appropriate way to propose!

  "And are you and Mark getting married on the cruise too?"

  Wendy shook her head. "If we are, nobody's told me."

  We laughed, and Stephanie said, "Any plans in that direction?"

  Wendy gave an unusually sweet smile. "If I'm really lucky, someday. Mark is..." She paused, then shrugged helplessly. "How would you explain how chocolate tastes to someone who'd never had it?"

  We sat in silence, while I tried to imagine the words that would do the experience justice and came up empty, then Stephanie said, "Yeah. Nice. How long have you guys been together?"

  "It was a year in November, so getting on to a year and a half now." She shook her head. "The moment I saw him, I just knew. It was like fire ripping through me. And every day we're together it gets better and better."

  I had known there was something between Owen and me the moment I saw him too, but I couldn't say we were getting better and better. He was a great guy, smart and steady, and I'd realized right away that he was a perfect choice for a husband. I did love him, and I knew he loved me, but I didn't think he was feeling fire ripping through him any more than I was. My relationship might be better than Stephanie's, but I had an uncomfortable feeling Wendy had us both beat.

  Stephanie and Wendy exchanged a small smile, then Stephanie said to me, "That must be exactly how you feel about Owen too. Right?"

  I licked my lips, not sure how to answer.

  "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push."

  I shook my head. "It's okay. Owen is... we're great together. Usually."

  She raised her eyebrows and I explained the sudden unexpected appearance of a gambling addict where my fiancé had been.

  "Ouch," she said when I finished. "And what did he say when you found him there today?"

  I tipped my head to one side, confused, and she said, "Wait, didn't you say he told you he wanted to show you what he was up to?"

  When I nodded, she said, "But you didn't go?" She made shooing motions at me. "Get down there! He's opening the door for you, so why not walk through?"

  "I tried, but I couldn't find him."

  "And then you gave up? Why?"

  "Because I... um... because I don't care about gambling," I admitted.

  "But he does. And maybe you will if he shows you how. And then maybe you guys will play a little sexy strip poker in your stateroom."

  We laughed, and I realized she was right. "Do you mind?" I said, turning to Wendy.

  She imitated Stephanie's shooing motions. "Just promise me one thing."

  I slipped off my stool. "What?"

  She grinned at me. "Please don't tell me about the strip poker."

  *****

  Two hours later, I sidled onto the deck around the quiet pool and found myself a chair. Nicholas was there, so deeply focused on his ereader that he didn't notice my arrival, but I wanted to stay anyhow because I had nowhere else I wanted to be.

  Owen had tried. I had to give him that. He smiled when he saw me then gathered up his chips, while I nearly bit a hole through my lip trying not to ask him exactly how much money I'd seen him lose on the last hand, and we went to a beginner poker table. No real money on the line, just neon-colored plastic chips, and Owen and I played hand after hand with an ever-changing array of our fellow cruisers.

  Learning how the game worked didn't change my opinion of it, though. I didn't like the randomness of the upturned cards, th
e way I couldn't plan ahead because I didn't know what was coming, and I also didn't like that sometimes I had a good hand but someone else had a better one. And even though I knew the plastic chips weren't real money, I couldn't handle risking any of them.

  "You see?" Owen said after an hour. "See why I love it?"

  I didn't want to burst his bubble but I couldn't lie to him. "I know you do but..." I shrugged. "It doesn't do anything for me."

  He looked like I'd suddenly started speaking Swahili. "Really? But it's risk and daring and chances and..." He shook his head. "I don't know what else to say. You really didn't like it?"

  "I didn't hate it," I said, shaken by the passion in his voice. He'd never displayed that sort of excitement and hunger for anything else, my body included. "It's just not my thing."

  He looked past me. "Maybe roulette then. Or craps?"

  I followed him through the beginner area, trying each game in turn, but nothing stirred me.

  When we'd run out of options to try, we stood in a relatively quiet corner and looked at each other. "I guess gambling's not your cup of tea, eh?"

  I echoed his wry tone. "I guess not."

  He sighed. "Look, I only do my gambling on the cruise, and I'd really like to--"

  He cut himself off as a loudspeaker announced a poker tournament in five minutes.

  I tried to smile. "I guess you want to be in that?"

  He nodded. "I'll see you at dinner, though." His hand slid over my hair. "And tonight. And then tomorrow we'll do that excursion and spend all morning together. All right?"

  It wasn't, but I figured it had to be, so I'd nodded and smiled and he'd given me a sweet but distracted kiss and I'd left him sitting at the poker table with a painfully large stack of chips.

  I could have emailed Wendy, but I didn't feel ready to reveal how poorly my attempt at connecting with Owen had gone, so instead I went back to the stateroom and began fiddling with my novel. Being alone in there felt wrong, though, since I wanted fresh air and sunlight and ocean breezes, so I'd set out toting the computer and before I knew it I'd found the quiet pool.

  And Nicholas.

  I sat watching him for several moments. There'd been so much right about our relationship, and only a little wrong. But the wrong part had ended up coloring everything.

  Not wanting him to sense my eyes on him and look up, I opened my laptop and stared at my novel's text. I wasn't seeing it, though. I was still seeing Nicholas.

  We'd had so much fun together. He'd been great with a quick funny turn of phrase, and he'd shared my love of horror movies and books, and I'd never wanted for anything in the bedroom. But his lack of drive had begun to bother me.

  He was a grocery-store cashier, just like he'd been since high school, because he knew the job and it was easy and he didn't need more money than he could earn there. I didn't look down on him for the job itself but his utter disinterest in pushing himself to grow and change had triggered an odd anger in me.

  Once I'd noticed this weakness in him, I saw it everywhere, and it infuriated me. The horror club needed a new web site designer, a position Nicholas would have been perfect for, and he didn't volunteer so instead the site was created by one of those annoying people who claims to know how to do everything but really doesn't. His roommate moved out, sticking him with a huge unpaid phone bill, and he let it slide because going after the guy was too much effort. He hired and paid a housekeeper who never showed up and he did nothing about it.

  By the time we hit the six-month mark, somehow all I could see was the bad stuff. But I knew the guy I'd fallen for was still there somewhere, and I wanted him back, so I did the one thing they always say you shouldn't.

  I told him I wanted him to propose.

  I didn't really, and I knew it at the time. I cared about him a lot, or at least I had before the bad stuff overshadowed the good, but I didn't think we'd been together long enough to marry. From our past discussions I knew he wanted to wait a few more years before he got married, and I wanted him to say so. I wanted him to take a stand, to say that he knew what he wanted and would be strong and refuse to accept anything else.

  Instead, he said, looking like the words hurt him, "Okay. Let's get married."

  I'd been shocked and confused and angry in a way I'd never felt before or since, and I'd snapped, "No, you don't want to."

  After a few painful moments of him trying to convince me he did want what I knew he didn't, he said, "Look, I'll do anything you want. Just tell me what it is."

  "You should know what it is."

  I stared at him, and he stared back. Then I turned and headed for the door. When he didn't say anything to stop me, I said that awful thing about none of his words meaning anything since he wasn't speaking now and walked out, and we hadn't seen each other since.

  My computer's screen seemed to have blurred, so I blinked and realized my eyes had filled with tears. What an idiot I'd been. I had no idea what I'd wanted him to say, but I could see now that there'd been no right answer for the poor guy, since anything he said just trapped him further. No doubt if he had refused to marry me I'd have been outraged about that too.

  I hadn't met his brothers when we'd dated, or his mother. Linda had been off on an extended stay in Europe with some man, and Nicholas had said, "My brothers and I don't get along that well and I don't want to inflict them on you yet." Now I knew why, and I also knew why he never stood up for himself.

  That crowd would mow him flat in no time.

  As I realized I'd lumped my fiancé, the man I loved and was about to marry, into 'that crowd', I heard a soft, "Hey."

  Startled, I looked up into warm brown eyes.

  "Sorry I scared you." Nicholas took the chair beside mine and let his ereader settle onto his lap. "I guess you didn't see me when you showed up."

  "I did," I admitted. "But you were reading and I didn't want to bother you."

  "Talking to you is never a--"

  "Shhhh!"

  The grumpy woman from the night before roused herself from another towel cocoon and glared at us. "You're to be quiet here. Quiet!"

  People on the other chairs shifted, angling themselves away from us.

  Nicholas turned away from her and murmured, "Want to go?"

  I nodded. I wasn't getting anything done on the book, so why not?

  We packed up our electronics then returned to last night's spot by the rail, where he said, "Not as cold today as last time."

  "Nope." Breezy, but pleasant. I took hold of the warm metal railing and stared out at the water. "Gorgeous weather."

  "That's the Caribbean for you."

  "Yup."

  He paused, then said, "Where's Owen?"

  "In the casino," I said, trying not to sound frustrated.

  "You don't want to be there with him?"

  "We tried it this afternoon." I shrugged. "He showed me all the games and kept expecting one to catch my attention but..."

  "No dice?"

  The chuckle in his voice made me laugh. "That's awful. But yes, no dice."

  "That's too bad. Since he likes gambling so much."

  "Yeah." It certainly was.

  We stood together for a moment, then he said, with the tone of one taking a new conversational direction, "So, is that the newest trend?"

  I looked over, confused, to see him studying my hands. I laughed. "No, that's what happens when our mothers disagree on my wedding-day manicure."

  "Let me guess, mine wanted the bright red."

  I saluted him with my red-nailed hand. "Good call. I know, my hands look ridiculous like this. I'll obviously have to pick one for the wedding."

  "Not ridiculous. Just... different. Which one do you like better?"

  "Not sure." I studied my hands too, now both back on the railing. "The red is brighter than the French manicure, and since my dress is white it'd be nice to have some color."

  My cheeks warmed, no doubt giving me a little color, since Nicholas knew personally that if a white dress meant vir
gin I shouldn't be wearing one.

  He cleared his throat, maybe thinking the same thing, then said, "The French is classy, though. But..." He leaned a little closer to my hands. "I think I like the red. It sparkles a bit, doesn't it?"

  "It's got shimmer in it, yeah."

  "My nail polish knowledge could fit on your little fingernail, Melissa. With room to spare. I see sparkles, I say sparkles."

  We laughed, then raised our faces to the sun and stood silently side-by-side, feeling the same warmth on our skin, until a cloud cast its shadow on us.

  Chapter Ten

  "Surprised you want to go on this." Austin slapped his big brother on the back. "Mel must have been persuasive."

  "No persuasion needed. St. Martin's my favorite island."

  Austin narrowed his eyes, and I wondered why, but he said only, "Well, good. Your fiancée's too cute to neglect."

  Before Owen could respond to this, the ship's excursion coordinator blew a whistle to draw the attention of everyone waiting on the pier for their excursions then said, "A last minute change of schedule, folks. If anyone was planning to join the poker tournament at the White Sand Casino, it's now at ten this morning instead of two in the afternoon."

  I felt Owen stiffen beside me, and turned to him in horror. "You're leaving me to go gamble? Again?"

  "Mel, I didn't know they'd change the time."

  "You didn't tell me you were doing it at all!"

  The words came out louder than I intended. The others moved discreetly away from us, and he looked after them and said, "You're making things awkward."

  "I am?" I shook my head. "I can't believe you didn't tell me your plans."

  "It was all going to be fine. The horse thing's in the morning and then you said you wanted to relax on the beach. I was going to go then."

  I stared at him, wondering how someone so smart could be so clueless. "You thought it'd be fine to leave me sitting on a beach alone?"

  "Not alone." He jerked his head toward the others. "They'll all be there. It's no big deal."

  Then why did it feel like one?

  He took hold of my shoulder, his face showing realization was finally dawning on him. "Look. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd care since you could hang out with Wendy and everyone."