First Love - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 04]

by Julie Kenner

  He took a step back, surprised at the vitriol. "Excuse me?"

  "I can't believe you're really sitting here wanting me to give you some sort of explanation." She stood up and started pacing the width of the hallway. "As if I had something to do with this? As if I caused this? Because if that's the case, mister, then we have a lot to talk about."

  He opened his mouth, but his words stuck in his throat, halted there by the sharp jab of her finger against his chest.

  "How dare you not trust me! Did I ever once ever not trust you?" She waggled her engagement ring under his nose. "Everyone was so sure that you sold the diamond. Syd was convinced that you were pulling some scam on me, trying to pass off a fake diamond for a real one. But I never once believed you'd do anything like that, even when I learned the stone was fake. I trusted you, Roman. That's the whole point of love."

  "Sweetheart." He took the hand before her fingers could thump him again. As it was, he probably had a bruise right over his heart. "I do trust you."

  Again, the eyebrow cocked up, and he had to grin.

  "What?" she demanded.

  "It's just that you can express more emotion with one eyebrow than most people do with an entire face."

  She crumpled a little at that. "I practiced," she said. "When I was about fourteen. I thought it was sexy to be able to lift just one. So I practiced for hours in front of a mirror. Now I do it without thinking."

  He took her hand, kissed her fingertips. "I do think it's sexy."

  "I'm glad," she said, tugging her hand back. "But you're changing the subject."

  "Yeah," he admitted. "I probably am." The ring was still a sore point to him. When he'd proposed, he'd given her his grandmother's three-carat diamond ring in its original setting. A beautiful stone, it was one that he'd admired all his life. The idea of seeing that ring on Julia's finger had given him a disproportionate amount of pleasure, and he'd been both relieved and thrilled when she'd appeared to love the ring as much as he did.

  Unfortunately, slipping the ring on her finger hadn't been the end of the story. When Syd had burst into town, determined to convince Julia to call off the wedding, she'd ended up fixated on the ring. As it turned out, Syd Spinelli had the instincts of a Monte Carlo jewel thief: The diamond, she'd discovered, was nothing more than three carats of glass.

  Syd had used that fact to bolster her case against Roman, but Julia hadn't budged, certain there was an explanation. As it turned out, there was. Roman later discovered that his grandmother had secretly sold the stone and replaced it with the fake years beforenot an uncommon practice among ladies of means in the past, since it was a way to keep their baubles and also flesh out their purse. No one had known. No one, that is, except Syd.

  When he'd learned the truth, Roman had immediately offered to buy Julia a real diamond, just as big as the first. But, stubborn as she was, she said she didn't want onehad said she wanted to keep the ring Roman had given her. Fake or not, it was the one that held the sentimental value. And, she'd pointed out, it ensured that they'd have great stories to tell their grandkids.

  Roman, though, still planned to get her a real stone. He hated the fact that he hadn't given her a real diamond, that traditional display of affection and betrothal of a man to his bride.

  What bothered him even more, though, was that he couldn't afford it. It had been fabulous that his grandmother's ring had been there to give, even more fabulous that he'd genuinely wanted to share that with Julia. But the sad truth was that if the ring hadn't been in the family, he would have had to scramble to come up with the cash for a decent stone.

  All his money was in the vines at the moment. And that left him with little leverage. Not that he needed leverage with Julia, he reminded himself. But he was used to having money, and it bothered him more than he'd anticipated to suddenly find himself in the position of having no disposable income.

  "Roman?"

  He shook his head, dispelling his thoughts. "Sorry. Got sidetracked."

  From her sigh, he could tell that she knew exactly what had veered his concentration. "I love the ring, Roman. I don't want another. Drop it."

  He chuckled. "It's dropped," he said. At least for now . "But that takes us back to the subject at hand."

  "Yes," she said sternly. "I was pointing out that you don't trust me. And then you went wandering around in la-la land. Not very reassuring, you know."

  Maybe she had a point. "I do trust you," he said. He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. "Absolutely and fully." He moved closer, then stroked her hair. "I'm sorry if I was harsh earlier. I didn't mean to demand an explanation. That was uncalled for. I just" He trailed off. "I was just a little shaken when your Mr. Winston walked through the door acting like he owned you."

  "I was a little shaken, too," she said. "Especially when your parents dropped their bomb!"

  He nodded, anger and guilt pressing in. "I know I'm sorry. I'll talk to my mom. They're just"

  She hushed him with a finger to his lips. "I know. And I really don't want to think about it right now." She looked at him, then sighed. "Your parents. Bart. My pop. It's crazy ."

  "I'm focused on your Mr. Winston," he admitted.

  She flashed a sharp look at him. "He's not my Mr. Winston. We dated a few times about a year ago, but nothing came of it."

  "He seems to think otherwise."

  "So I noticed," she said grimly. She took a deep breath, then brushed a kiss across his cheek. "All right. We'll deal with this trust thing later. After all, we have years and years to hash out our issues, right?"

  A genuine smile sprang to his lips. "Absolutely."

  "In that case, wish me luck." She took a step toward the door. "You might as well go on to work. I'll come by later and give you an update." She paused meaningfully. "And get the full story."

  "All right," he said, willing to be agreeable.

  "Right." She drew in a deep breath, then frowned slightly. "Well, I guess I better go find out why the hell he's here and why he's acting like I should be happy about it."

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Remember that a wedding is about two people uniting, but you're not turning into one person! Celebrate your autonomy by having photographs at your reception of the bride and the groom growing up, graduating high school, dancing in a fifth grade recital. You know what I'm talking about. And mix those photos in with pictures of the couple taken during the courtship. Let your guests know that, as husband and wife, you're still man and woman. Individuals, united.

  from The New Millennium Bride

  Julia paused in front of the door, her hand on the knob as she thought about what the heck she was going to say when she went back out into that room. All in all, she supposed it was a good thing that she spoke to Roman before confronting Bart. The interlude had calmed her down. The red-hot fury had settled into a seething anger tinged by curiosity and, yes, total mortification.

  He'd practically laid claim to her in front of the Sonn-tags ! Her in-laws-to-be! Would they understand? And even if they said they did, would they ever really look at her the same again? She'd worked for weeks to ensure that they saw her as differenta diamond forged from the massive pressure of living under Marv's roof. Not clumsy and classless like her father. Something new. Something different.

  Something better .

  And then in marches Bart and shoots that all to hell.

  She frowned, remembering that things had gone awry even before Bart's entrance. And, just as she'd imagined, it was her father who had altered the Sonn-tags' perception of her. Why else would they withdraw their offer for the wedding to be held on their estate? Because they thought she was as low class as her pop.

  Damn it all.

  Not that she had time to worry about her reputation. She had to find a new location for the wedding! Damn, damn, damn !

  But she couldn't even think about that until she'd dealt with Bart. She cringed, remembering how he'd marched through the door so cocky. God, she'd wanted t
o lash out and land a good left hook right there on his patrician little nose. The crunch would have been so very satisfying, and so what if she'd ended up arrested for assault? It would have been worth it, even if she'd been stuck for an eternity in a jail cell adjoining Marv's.

  That thought spawned another: Marv had gotten arrested for punching someone in the nose. How telling was it that her first instinct as to how to deal with Bart involved the breaking of nasal cartilage?

  She sighed, calming down infinitesimally. Maybe the apple didn't fall far from the tree after all.

  A little shiver of horror trilled down her spine. No . She wasn't like Marv. She knew better than to buy polyester. She had not an ounce of boring brown shag carpeting in her apartment. And she didn't worship at the altar of the almighty dollar.

  She wasn't her pop, and she never would be.

  With a quick nod to fortify herself, she pushed through the doors. The menBart, Wesley and Arvinturned to look at her. The only female in the room, the young officer behind the reception desk who'd heard the whole thing, flashed a sympathetic smile.

  Julia straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and marched across the room toward Bart.

  His mouth opened as she approached, as if he wanted to say something. She didn't give him the chance. "You," she said, pointing to him. "There." The finger moved, indicating the double glass doors leading to the outside.

  "I'm picking up on a bad vibe here, honey," Bart said as soon as they were standing on the front steps of the police station. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you weren't happy to see me."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  He stared back at her, his face impassive, his eyes guileless.

  She let out a sigh. The man was either serious or he deserved an Academy Award. She took his elbow and led him down the steps, then steered him to the little picnic table on the green. The intertwining branches of an ancient oak provided some shade, but not enough to make a dent in the late summer heat. Julia kicked off her shoes, clenched her toes in the cool St. Augustine grass, and leaned her back against the table. "Spill it," she said.

  "Spill what?"

  "What are you doing here?"

  "What do you mean, what am I doing here?" He reached out for her hand, and she was so surprised, she didn't snatch it away in time. "I came to see you, of course."

  "Obviously. But why?" A few yards away, two women stopped on the sidewalk, then turned to look toward Julia and the stranger. Julia recognized them bothThelma Lynn with her flaming orange hair and her loyal sidekick Delores. Too late, she yanked her hand away and used it to wave to Thelma. The older woman's lips pursed in disapproval, and she continued down the sidewalk without waving back. " Why ?" Julia repeated, this time snapping the question as she saw weeks of work toward fitting in go spiraling down the drain.

  First the Sonntags, now the whole town. What next? The universe?

  "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

  Why would I want to see you ? She wanted to ask the question, she really did. But he looked so damned earnest, she couldn't manage to get the words out. Instead, she folded her arms over her chest and tried to stay calm. "Not to belabor a point, Bart, but we aren't dating."

  "Well, no, not really. Which is why I was a little surprised when" He broke off suddenly, his face clearing and his eyes narrowing with wary concentration. "You really didn't know that I was coming, did you? And you really don't want me here."

  Julia did a double take, ingrained politeness war-ring with the truth. In the end, she decided on an amalgamation of both. "I'm sorry if I was too abrupt," she said, "but, yeah, that's about the extent of it."

  "But why?"

  Bart's usually controlled features were fixed in bafflement, the expression almost comical. Julia was pretty sure her face mirrored his, actually, since she had absolutely no idea why he'd be so confused.

  "Bart, we quit going out over a year ago."

  "But we never officially broke up."

  "Well, no. I suppose that's technically true. But I haven't heard from you in nine months. Call me crazy, but I consider that broken up."

  "I suppose so," he said, sounding a little morose.

  "Maybe I'm being dense, but why on earth would you just bop down to Texas acting like nothing ever happened?"

  Even as she said the words, though, she knew the answer. Because when you got right down to it, there was only one reasonable explanation. "My dad."

  He nodded, and she mentally gave herself two points. Marv the Meddler strikes again.

  "What exactly did he do?"

  "Told me to come. Told me you wanted to see me. That you'd been talking about me. That you missed me."

  " Damn it ." The curse was out of her mouth before she could pull it back.

  A wry grin played across Bart's face. "Guess I was misinformed."

  Julia melted a little. "Oh, Bart. I'm so sorry." She slouched back against the picnic table, feeling sorry for Bart, sorry for herself, and totally pissed off at her father.

  The thing was, she genuinely liked Bart. They'd gotten along famously. He was funny and smart and he made her laugh. Their families lived about four blocks away from each other, and Marv and Daniel Winston had a friendly competition goingevery time Marv added a new motel to his chain, Daniel rushed to add a new grocery store to his.

  Bart and Julia had dated for about eight fun months, and Marv and Myrna had been expecting wedding bells. Julia knew that. But she and Bart had never talked about it, to Julia's immense relief. She might have liked Barta lot, evenbut something was missing. Some spark. At the time she couldn't define it. Now that she'd met Roman, she knew exactly what it was.

  Not that she and Bart had ever talked about the voids in their relationship. Fortunately, they'd been able to completely sidestep that little issue when Bart took a job with a multimedia company. The job took him to Hong Kong, where he'd lived for the last year or so. They'd sent a few e-mails back and forth for a while, but then that had dropped off. Julia hadn't even realized when the notes had stopped coming. By that time, her life had been too filled with other things. Other men. Like Somers, the last man she'd dated before Roman.

  She'd put Bart out of her mind and, she'd assumed, he'd put her out of his.

  Apparently, she'd been wrong.

  She realized that her fingers were once again rubbing circles on her temples. The headache had returned. She pressed her fingertips against her eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, then looked up to face her old boyfriend. "Let's back up," she said. "Tell me exactly what happened. Exactly what my dad said."

  "I got back from Hong Kong about a week ago, and I called your apartment in Jersey. Got the message on your machine that you were out of town, and that friends should call your cell phone."

  Julia nodded. She'd kept her Manhattan apartment when she'd moved to Texas, but hadn't bothered to forward her calls. Anyone that she wanted to talk to would have her cell phone number. Possibly a little sneaky, but there'd been a few guys in her life at the time that she really wasn't interested in seeing again.

  "Go on," she prompted.

  "I called, but you must have changed your cell number, because the one I had didn't work. So I called Debbie," he said, referring to the secretary at Marv's office, "and asked if she could give it to me. She said she'd have to get back to me."

  "You never called," Julia pointed out.

  "Right. Debbie got back to me the next day with the number, but she said before I called you, I should talk to Marv. That was yesterday." Julia made a face, remembering the odd call Marv had received. "Any-way," Bart continued, "I called Marv, and he was blown away to hear from me. I always have liked your dadhe's quite a character."

  "That he is," Julia agreed, but Bart spoke with such genuine affection that she couldn't help her grin.

  "Well, he told me that you'd come down to Texas to run one of the motels, and that he'd just come down that very day to check on you. And that you were miserable down here. Small Texas town, no t
axis. No Barneys or Bergdorf's. No sushi. Just a lot of cow patties and beer."

  "He actually said that." Julia looked around, as if Marv might materialize out of thin air. She realized after a second that she'd clenched her fist. That Spi-nelli pound-away-a-problem reaction again, only this time, the urge to hit was directed toward the source of her problem. Her father.

  "More, actually. He said that he was so glad to hear from me, and that you'd really missed me over the last year, and that lately you'd been talking about me a lot and wished you knew how to get in touch with me. Let me tell you, I felt like an ass when I heard that. I'd gotten so busy at work that I quit e-mailing you. You're such a social butterfly, I didn't even imagine that you'd be sitting around waiting to hear from me."

  I wasn't , Julia thought. But it hardly seemed politic to say it. Instead, she just gestured for him to continue.

  "Well, then he said the real kickerthat he couldn't think of anything that would cheer you up more than having me come down here. And, well, I haven't dated anyone seriously since you, and the truth is I've missed you, and since Marv was so emphatic about how much you missed me" He trailed off, looking a little miserable. "I guess that wasn't entirely accurate, huh?"

  "Oh, Bart." The words felt like they weighed a million pounds. Julia couldn't remember ever being quite so sad. "I'm so sorry. The man I was with? Roman? He's my fiance."

  Bart just stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "And your father?"

  "He doesn't approve." She gave him the Cliff's Notes version of the whole Sonntag House fiasco, the lawsuit and her whirlwind affair.

  "Sounds like true love," he finally said.

  "It is." She flashed him a wan smile. "Bart, I'm sorry."

  He took her hand. "Don't ever be sorry for falling in love, kiddo. I'm happy for you. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous, but that doesn't mean I'm not genuinely happy."

  "Thank you." She leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "You're a good guy, Bart Winston."

  "Yeah? Well, maybe you can spread the word."