How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  And the wheelchair on its side halfway across the kitchen.

  “What happened?” Will’s hands hovered over her body, as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure where to start.

  “Don’t even ask.” She sounded more agitated than hurt. Clearly, the apple didn’t fall far from the Martin tree.

  Melissa met Charlotte’s eyes and found a smile. “We meet at last. Didn’t expect it to be like this.”

  “Me either. Can I help?” Charlotte stood near the kitchen door, afraid to get in the way.

  “No, we’ve done this before, unfortunately.” Melissa winced as she attempted to move. “Just straighten my leg out for me, Will.”

  He obliged, carefully. “Nothing broken?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Very funny.”

  “I’m fine, Will. Was trapped, is all. I’m just glad my cell was in my pocket.”

  Slowly he straightened her other leg. “Where’s the ambulance?”

  Melissa motioned for Charlotte to bring her wheelchair closer. “I didn’t call them.”

  “You what?”

  Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. Charlotte slipped into the kitchen and pushed the wheelchair toward them, remembering to lock the wheels before she parked it.

  Will’s big-brother mode was nearing dangerous levels. “Melissa. You told me you called them already.”

  “A little white lie. I knew you’d overreact.” She brushed her hair back from her face, wincing a little as Will lifted her into her chair. “I don’t need them, I’m fine. It just scared me when I fell. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

  “Ruin my—are you kidding me?” Will stood upright, raking his hands through his hair. “This is madness. I knew you shouldn’t live alone.”

  Charlotte backed slowly across the kitchen as the facts began to snap into place. His close relationship with his sister. His doting on her, the weekly cookies, the sense of responsibility. His putting his life on hold for years. Melissa was handicapped, and for some reason, he’d taken that burden upon himself.

  Melissa’s phone call made sense now. The last thing Melissa said before Will had interrupted them the other day in the bakery was, Will hasn’t told you?

  No, he hadn’t.

  The question was—why?

  “Will, listen to yourself. What are my options? A group home? I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. You’ve renovated this entire house to be wheelchair friendly.” She grinned. “Just apparently not that particular spot.”

  Will wasn’t laughing. “It’s not funny. You could have been hurt.”

  “But I wasn’t.” The humor drained from Melissa’s face, and she threw her hands up. “What do you want? For me to live like you—terrified of every possible what-if?”

  Will opened his mouth, then shot a glance at Charlotte as if remembering she was standing there. “Let’s talk in the living room, please.”

  Charlotte couldn’t decide if she was grateful for the reprieve or offended that she wasn’t included.

  Melissa mouthed I’m sorry at Charlotte and rolled herself toward the door. “Answer my question, Will.”

  Their voices muffled as they relocated to the living room. Out of sight—but not out of earshot. Charlotte couldn’t help it. She pressed against the side of the door frame and listened.

  “If being terrified of what-ifs keeps us all alive and safe, then yes. That’s just fine with me.”

  Silence filled the living room. And then Will brought down the hammer. “I can’t handle any more of these phone calls, Mel. I’m moving in.”

  “You’re what?” Melissa spoke the same words, in the same tone, that Charlotte mouthed silently to herself from the kitchen.

  “I’m moving in. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d been here. Nothing would have ever happened if I’d been there!”

  “Will, don’t overreact.”

  “I’m not. I should have done this a year ago.”

  “Things are different now. You can’t move in with me.” Melissa’s voice lowered, but not enough. “You have a life—a life you deserve to have. You have a girlfriend!”

  “Not anymore.”

  Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat, then thudded back to life with all the finality of a door slamming. Slamming on her future. Her hopes.

  And in that moment, she knew the answer to her own question.

  He hadn’t told her about Melissa because deep down, he hadn’t expected to be around long enough for it to matter.

  He didn’t mean it.

  The words flew out of his mouth, hard and flippant and so foreign he didn’t recognize his own voice in them. He ducked his head, covering his face with his hands as the pressure of the last several years settled hard. Like Atlas, holding the weight of the world. What had he become? He was standing in his sister’s living room—the living room he’d renovated for her, the living room she’d worked hard to decorate and make her own afterward, to make normal, to make cheerful—yelling at her.

  All while verbally disowning the only other female who had ever brought joy to his life.

  “Will.” Melissa’s voice, calm and even, brought him back from the ledge as it’d done a hundred times before. Maybe a thousand. “Will, sit down.”

  He obliged, mostly because of his guilt, partly because he knew she hated people looking down on her—literally or figuratively.

  She wheeled closer to him on the couch. “You can’t fix me.”

  “I know. I know.” Why did she have to keep reminding him of the obvious?

  “So stop trying, big brother. You know I love you, but you have to quit trying.” She reached across her lap and grabbed his hands. “You have an amazing woman in that kitchen right now, and if you don’t get your head out of your you-know-where, you’re going to lose her.”

  “I don’t want to lose her.”

  “Then let me go. You can’t hold her hand if you’re still holding mine.” She pointedly looked down at their clasped hands resting on his knees.

  He squeezed tighter. “You’re my sister.”

  “And I have my own life. I’m fine, Will. I’m happy. And I’d be even happier if you’d settle down already and quit being Free Willy. Save all of us a little drama.”

  He shook his head, hating that stupid nickname that kept coming back to haunt him. But when it came down to it . . .

  “Mel, I’d rather be Free Willy for the rest of my life than you be alone another minute.”

  “Pssh.” She shook her hair back from her face, taking on an intentionally haughty expression. “I know I’ve still got it. Some man is going to be lucky to marry me.”

  There was the sister he knew and loved. Will allowed himself a smile. “He’ll need a manual, that’s for sure. I should start writing that now, actually. Save him the trouble.”

  Melissa laughed. “See? He’s coming. We both know it. I might not get married as soon as I’d planned once, but you know what, Will?” She tugged at their joined hands until he met her eyes. “If my ex couldn’t handle the ‘for worse’ before we even got married, then he sure as heck doesn’t deserve my ‘for better.’ I’ll wait for the guy who can.”

  He’d never thought of it that way—that being jilted by her fiancé after the accident could have been a blessing in disguise. Melissa always chose to view the hard things in life that way. He could learn a lot from her.

  But it still wasn’t right that he didn’t have to pay the same price Melissa did. He gripped her hands tighter. “It was my fault.” His voice hitched. Had he ever owned that to his sister before? He’d admitted it a thousand times in his own head, but out loud? He wasn’t sure.

  “What was your fault?”

  “The wreck. Your accident.” Unshed tears slashed at his throat. “It’s all my fault.”

  Confusion filled Melissa’s face. “Will. That’s crazy. You weren’t even there.”

  “Exactly. I was supposed to have picked you up.” His words tumbled over themselves. “If I had been there,
you wouldn’t have gotten a ride with Taylor.”

  He remembered that night all too well. He had promised to pick Melissa up from the New Year’s Eve party at her work. She didn’t want to drive herself and park and walk in the rain while dressed up, and her fiancé had been out of town on business. So Will had agreed to come get her before midnight.

  But he’d been at his own party, living it up with friends he didn’t even talk to anymore, friends whose names he couldn’t even remember. Flirting. Pitting girls against each other to compete for him. Being a womanizing jerk. And he’d forgotten his promise. It was well after midnight that he remembered, saw all the missed calls on his cell, and tried to call her back. He couldn’t reach her—but the police finally reached him, and that particular call changed his life forever.

  “I was the one who refused to wait for you and asked Taylor for a ride home. I knew how he felt about me. I should have known he’d start a fight about me being engaged.” Melissa shook her head. “You know all this, Will. Yeah, maybe you should have picked me up, but I shouldn’t have asked Taylor to drive me. And Taylor shouldn’t have gotten so agitated while driving. And the person who hit us shouldn’t have been speeding. There were a lot of mistakes that night.” She squeezed his hands. “But it wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. You have to let it go.”

  It couldn’t be that easy. That simple just to . . . let it go. What would he even do without the weight of guilt anymore? It had been his constant companion for years.

  He tried the idea on for size. It wasn’t his fault. Melissa’s accident wasn’t his fault.

  It wasn’t his fault.

  The burden shifted a little. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t have to stay under it anymore. He was free.

  He took a deep breath.

  Free to live his life.

  He slowly released Melissa’s hands.

  Free to let Melissa live hers.

  He turned his palms up to the air.

  Free to love Charlotte.

  Charlotte. His eyes flew open. Melissa must have been on the same page, because she immediately rolled her chair back so he could stand up. “Charlotte? It’s safe to come out now!”

  No answer. No footsteps. No shuffling.

  In fact, it had been quiet in there for some time. Too quiet.

  Melissa's grin faded. They looked toward the front door at the same time. Open a crack.

  Will’s heart thudded painfully against his chest as he leapt to his feet. “Do you think she heard—”

  Melissa nodded. “Yep.”

  Will closed his eyes, sinking back onto the couch. It was too late. He’d blown it. “I’m an idiot.”

  Melissa patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I already told her that.”

  The last thing Charlotte wanted to do was deliver the cake to Adam and Brittany’s wedding. She wanted to stab it with a knife. Maybe don sweatpants, grab a fork, and eat every bite of it, all by herself.

  And yet, underneath the anger threatening to boil over at Will's rejection, she understood it. Understood the helplessness and fear that drove someone to make such a decision. Hadn’t she almost made the same one about him? She understood it and hurt for him.

  And that just made her even madder.

  Charlotte parked the van and stared at the vintage barn that had become the city’s most popular wedding venue, where Adam and Brittany would be saying their vows in just a few short hours. Julie climbed out of the passenger side. “Ready, Boss?”

  Not even a little.

  She got out of the van.

  Julie pulled the rolling cart out of the back. Hopefully they’d be able to get everything inside the reception area of the barn without pushing over too many bumps. At least the ground looked relatively level between the van and the door.

  Charlotte helped load the boxes with the white chocolate wedding cake onto the cart, then checked to make sure she had the assembly tiers and piping bags for touch-ups.

  This had potential to go down in history as the fastest wedding cake assembly ever. She had intentionally left Zoe with a different babysitter this afternoon, so Julie could help Charlotte get in and out of the venue in warp speed. Julie had come and picked her up a block from Melissa’s house last night. Her friend had commiserated properly, but one thing she’d said kept rolling around in Charlotte’s head.

  People say things they don’t mean when they’re scared.

  Maybe that was true. But at the same time, she wasn’t ready to talk to Will, evidenced by her ignoring his dozen phone calls and half dozen texts after she’d left Melissa’s. Of course he had been scared and stressed. Nothing about his behavior last night at Melissa’s lined up with the Will she knew. He’d been on edge, agitated—and obviously fighting some kind of demon that had nothing to do with her. But her cracked heart couldn’t take the risk again.

  Because what if he had meant it? What if she was truly that disposable? He hadn’t made any effort outside of a few phone calls and text messages. If he wanted to fight for her, wouldn’t he have come over? Shown up, the way he did that day in the bakery? Maybe he’d just been calling to tell her the break-up news officially.

  And that was one phone call she could do without.

  She pushed the cart through the grass toward the barn, head down, eyes averted as Julie trotted beside her, opening the front door, holding back the red balloons tied to the entrance, and shuffling chairs out of her way. The barn had been decorated with stacked hay bales, mason jars tied with red ribbons, and tiny sparkling Christmas lights draped beam to beam. The vast space was set up for both wedding and reception, but the wedding party was nowhere to be seen. No doubt they were busy behind the scenes—taking pictures, touching up makeup, and panicking over last-minute details.

  Funny how she knew so much about something she’d never experienced.

  Charlotte located the cake table, decorated with lace and flowers and sprinkled with black and red beads, and began unpacking the cake stand. As soon as this thing was set up, she’d be back in the van, hightailing it back home. To Zoe. To their predictable life.

  Which might be a little boring, but at least it didn’t hurt.

  “I’ll go find Brittany and tell her we’re here.” Julie hurried out the side door across the barn, pausing to straighten the white runner she’d wrinkled on her way. The wooden door banged shut behind her.

  Charlotte kept focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the musty smell of hay that somehow managed to seem romantic. She just wanted to be done with this cake. Wanted to go home and forget the last couple weeks had ever happened. She’d been content before Will had started frequenting The Dough Knot. Content before he’d upset her life and her heart with his charm and laughter and hazel eyes. Eyes that could look right into her and see the truth, tell the truth.

  He had meant what he’d said in the bakery, when he passed her eye test.

  Her heart ached and her hands shook as she began setting the pillars into the stand. Why couldn’t he keep meaning it?

  She’d never be able to make another snickerdoodle again.

  She fastened the next pillar, looking on her cart for the last one. This was why she’d wanted safe. This up and down, back and forth—it was too much. She needed someone she could depend on. Needed stability.

  Which this cake stand was also going to need if she couldn’t find the last pillar. Had she or Julie forgotten to pack it?

  “Don’t forget this one.”

  An outstretched hand—a male hand—offered the missing pillar.

  Will.

  She took a step back, refusing to look at him. She plucked the pillar from his hand and finished stabilizing the last tier. If only it were so simple to stabilize her heart. “What are you doing here?”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m in the wedding, remember?”

  Oh, she remembered. That’s why she was trying to leave so quickly.

  She ignored him as she began setting the layers in pla
ce. A corner of the icing smeared, and an edible pearl bounced across the table. Great. Now she’d have to fix that with her touch-up frosting before she could leave.

  But she couldn’t concentrate with him standing that close. “I’m really busy here, Will.” He was making her nervous, and she hadn’t even seen him in his tux yet. She fumbled for her piping bag.

  “Look at me, Charlotte.”

  No. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. With shaking hands, she began piping the icing. And smeared another edge.

  “I know you heard what I said about us at Melissa’s house. I was out of line.”

  “No. You were just being honest.” Charlotte bit her tongue to keep back the tears as she ducked her head and painstakingly repaired the icing damage. “You said we were done, and ta-da. You were right. We’re done.” She tried to put a hardened edge into her voice that hadn’t yet made it to her heart.

  She could feel him staring at her. Staring hard as she carefully cut a sliver of cake off the back that hadn’t baked evenly, then re-iced the gap and tossed the rejected piece into the box on her cart.

  Rejected.

  Tears pricked despite her efforts, and she blinked rapidly. If she could just hang in there another few minutes . . .

  His footsteps shuffled nearer, nearer, until she could see the shiny leather of his black shoes in her downcast vision. He hadn’t touched her, yet the warmth of his presence seared her. “I was being honest last night, Charlotte—finally, totally honest for the first time in forever—but not like you think. The honesty part came later. You missed it.”

  “How convenient.” She straightened, refusing to listen to his lies anymore. Had he just come over here to defend himself and offer excuses?

  She finished the icing repair, capped the piping bag, and shoved it into the box on her cart. Done. Cake assembled. She could leave. At this point, she didn’t even care if she got paid. She just wanted out. Wanted to go back to safe and secure, even if that meant being alone.

  It had to be better than this.

  “I beg you. Hear me out.” Will reached for her arm, but she dodged his grasp, still avoiding looking at him dead-on, and began pushing her cart away from the cake table.