How to Make a Wedding

by Cindy Kirk

  “Cool.”

  “Would you like to meet me afterward at Vinnie’s for dessert?”

  Whenever she and Rob had gone places in the past, they’d gone in a group that included Sam. Sometimes Mr. Perfect or one of Rob’s buddies joined them. “Sam and Mr. Perfect are shopping at Pottery Barn in San Antonio today.” Which is pretty much how Holly imagined young married couples without kids spent the bulk of their time.

  “I know.” He gave her a cute I-was-hoping-to-get-dessert-with-you-alone smile.

  “Oh. Well.” Her thoughts darted in five nervous directions. “Sure. You know me. I never pass up a chance to eat Vinnie’s chocolate pie.”

  “Good.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll text you.”

  “’Kay.”

  Holly spent the next hour pacing her apartment. Josh had asked her to go with him to the Olive Oil Company and Rob had asked her out for dessert. Two men had issued invitations in the space of a week. Single, handsome men! Instead of elated, however, the invitations—one she’d turned down, one she’d accepted—had left her feeling troubled.

  She grabbed her coat, scarf, hat, and reversed her Miata from its parking space. Twenty minutes passed before she realized she’d driven by many of the places where she and Josh had spent time together during their romance. She’d taken herself on a Josh Memory Tour without meaning to.

  At the Brenners’ house, she and Josh had sat inside Bryan Brenner’s Jacuzzi during Bryan’s graduation party. Green light had illuminated the still, hot water surrounding them. She could remember how Josh had looked, staring at her through the steam.

  A bank and a 7-Eleven now occupied the plot where Josh’s apartment building had once stood. She could taste the microwave popcorn, seasoned with paprika and parsley, that had been his mom’s specialty. They’d eaten it while watching X-Men DVDs in the small living room.

  Their high school hadn’t changed in any way, except for the new sign out front. Josh had first said I love you to her on one otherwise normal day during the spring semester of their senior year. They’d been in the hallway together. The bell had already rung and kids had been hurrying past them. She and Josh had been about to part and go in opposite directions when he’d pulled her back to him.

  “I love you,” he’d said. And he’d said it with the most solemn seriousness, as if he’d been unable to wait another minute to tell her, as if he was about to be shipped overseas to fight a battle, as if he was dying. And Holly had felt like she was dying, too, except from bliss and lack of oxygen because he’d stolen all her breath.

  Then he’d smiled a crooked smile at her. She’d known she loved him before he’d said the words. But it was that crooked smile there in that school hallway that had settled the matter in her heart.

  Sam would definitely not approve of her Josh Memory Tour.

  Sighing, Holly turned onto the road that wound past a park and picnic area at the edge of Lake Cypress Bend. The sun had just set but full darkness hadn’t yet descended. She parked and went to sit on top of a vacant picnic table.

  The bulbs on the light posts glowed through the hazy evening, making their illumination appear soft, round, enchanted. Several families dotted the area, some at the playground, some at the lakeshore or on the dock, fishing. Everyone had bundled up to ward off the chill. The children’s voices carried on the same breeze that spun leaves from their branches.

  She and Josh had sat here, on this exact table, numerous times. This had been their spot. Sometimes they’d come here to eat. Sometimes, just to hang out and talk. She’d sat here with him, her head resting on his shoulder, contentment weaving circles around and around her. She could recall how he’d kissed her, and how her body had rushed in response with the joy and awe of it.

  A twig cracked behind her and she swung to face the direction with a gasp. Josh?

  The twig had been broken by two kids, kicking up leaves.

  Rob just asked you out. Your neighbor and friend, Rob, who is a very decent person and good-looking to boot. Think about Rob, Holly. Think about Rob.

  Holly came to understand, in very clear detail, why Sam scorned the idea of waiting by the phone for a man to call. Sam scorned it because living that way stunk.

  Even though Holly knew Josh wouldn’t call, she took her phone with her everywhere. It was ridiculous. Josh had no reason to call her. He no longer needed help planning the rehearsal dinner.

  Nonetheless, when she slipped into bed at night, she rested her cell phone within arm’s reach on her bedside table. She double-checked it frequently throughout the day to ensure that it was charged and prepared to receive a text message or a call from Josh.

  Neither came.

  She looked for him when she drove around town and each time she entered a shop or restaurant, without success.

  Her rational mind knew that remaining separate from him was the best possible thing for the preservation of her well-being. Her irrational heart, however, couldn’t get over the fact that she’d never again have this sort of proximity with him. Josh’s time in Martinsburg was vanishing.

  The days leading up to Thanksgiving, beautiful days gilded with autumn, should have been too full to dwell on Josh. Her wedding coordinator duties had kicked into fourth gear thanks to Mitzi’s astonishing doggedness. Her work on her book had intensified too. Like a round stone that had topped a rise and begun to roll downhill, her plot was picking up speed. She had blog posts to write for her website and marketing to catch up on.

  In pursuit of their Year of Restaurants quest, Holly and Sam hit Martinsburg’s only Indian food joint and then the most girly sandwich/salad/soup restaurant the town had to offer.

  Holly and Rob’s dessert date had gone smoothly. In fact, it had been much like their group outings, minus other humans. There’d been chocolate pie, but no romantic feelings on Holly’s part. Rob had asked her out again afterward, but since she didn’t know how she felt about more one-on-one dates with him yet, she’d declined.

  The day before Thanksgiving, Holly’s immediate family (and her sister’s fabulous new boyfriend) poured into Martinsburg. In tandem with their arrival, great, low-lying banks of clouds rolled over central Texas and coated the town with a steady drizzle. The precipitation escalated on Thursday to rain that alternated from light to downpour.

  As was their tradition, the Morgans sat down together in their family home for a formal Thanksgiving meal of turkey and all the fixings, served on Holly’s mother’s Lennox wedding china.

  Afterward, they gathered in the living room in front of the fireplace. Holly’s dad coddled the fire into snapping peaks of flame. The smell of pumpkin pie hung in the air and football played on TV. Drowsy from the tryptophan she’d just consumed, Holly daydreamed about where Josh might be spending the day while the rest of the family engaged in their two most popular pastimes: cooing over Holly’s older brother’s gorgeously chubby toddler and revering Holly’s younger sister for her pursuit of a law degree.

  The only member of the family not present? Shadow. The cat had hidden under Holly’s parents’ bed in mute protest of the invaders who’d overtaken her residence.

  Late that night, Josh was fighting insomnia and thinking of Holly, when a sudden suspicion slid into his mind. He sat up in bed, paused for a few seconds to think, then dashed aside the covers.

  He hoped he was wrong. He really hoped he hadn’t overlooked something so important. Surely, he hadn’t.

  In his plaid pajama pants, he padded down the stairs of his rented house into the kitchen. His laptop waited on the granite counter. Scowling, he pulled up his assistant’s final guest list document for the rehearsal dinner.

  He scrolled down the list of alphabetized names. The tile floor chilled the soles of his feet and cold air blew across his bare back.

  Holly wasn’t listed. She’d spent hours driving over the Hill Country with him to look at locations. She’d shared advice and ideas with him. All for a rehearsal dinner he’d forgotten to invite her to. She hadn’t mentioned h
is oversight to him the two times they’d gone to the caterer. She’d remained quiet and polite about it while helping him pick out the menu, for pity’s sake.

  Josh blew out a breath, disgusted with himself.

  It had occurred to him, after that night at Das Lokal when he’d told her he’d booked the Olive Oil Company, that he needed to ask his staff to double check the guest list, and if she wasn’t on it, to mail Holly an invitation. He’d made a mental note of it. Planned to do it. But the list in front of him proved that he hadn’t followed through.

  He’d been distracted and forgetful lately. He’d been distracted and forgetful because his mind was so occupied with Holly.

  The rehearsal dinner would take place tomorrow night. He straightened, pushing both hands into his hair as he stared down at the glowing screen.

  He was a jerk. A jerk who needed to make things right.

  “Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Chapel said to Holly the next morning, as she accepted her coffee through the door. “Did you remember to put in one and a half packets of sugar?”

  “I did.”

  “I’m in need of some Bengay for my poor back. Would you be able to pick some up for me later, do you think? If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “I wish I could help you, but I’m not going to make it to the store today. My family’s in town so I’m spending the day with them before the wedding rehearsal up at the church.”

  “Speaking of the big wedding, Doreen told me that someone else is playing the organ.” Mrs. Chapel pinched her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.

  “That’s true.”

  “She said that you brought her caramel corn to help her recover from the slight.”

  “Also true.”

  “Good girl.” She gave a decisive nod, her rheumy eyes regaining their twinkle. “And don’t you worry about the Bengay. I’ll shame my younger sister into buying it for me.”

  “No one’s more of an expert at shaming than you are, Mrs. Chapel.”

  “Why, thank you!”

  Holly moved toward her apartment.

  “Some things were delivered for you while you were getting coffee,” Mrs. Chapel called after her.

  “Oh?”

  “By a handsome man.”

  Holly shot her a questioning look.

  “I think he’s still there,” the old lady whispered, loudly enough for passersby on Main Street to hear.

  Holly walked around the hallway corner and found Josh—Josh!—leaning against the wall next to her door, an array of items covering her doormat. He pushed to standing at the sight of her.

  He wore a shirt and tie beneath a sweater vest. With his tall frame and lean physique, he could pass for an Armani model. A sheepishly smiling one. One that moonlighted as a professor of Unfathomable Math.

  “Hi,” he said.

  He’d either become more gorgeous since she’d seen him last or she’d forgotten how gorgeous he’d been to begin with. Her heart, her poor heart, was melting at the sight of him. “Hi.”

  He lifted a hand and flipped an envelope face up as he extended it to her. “I brought you this.” He’d written her name on it in handwriting that hadn’t changed much since high school.

  “Thank you.” She took it from him.

  “Here.” He lifted the coffee carrier with her lone drink from her hand. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it.

  She began to pull open the flap on the heavy stationery. “Is this when you inform me that you’ve secretly been buying up all the real estate in Martinsburg?” A smile played across her lips. She’d thought to herself once that he’d have no way of knowing where she lived. She’d been wrong. “Are these my eviction papers?”

  “I typically save my evil real estate plotting for towns large enough to merit a Walmart.”

  “Ah.” She uncovered an engraved invitation to the rehearsal dinner.

  “It didn’t occur to me until last night that I hadn’t made sure that you were invited,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  She moved her attention from the lovely invitation to him. “There’s no reason to be sorry. I’m just Trinity’s wedding coordinator. I’m not actually in Ben and Amanda’s wedding.”

  “I’d like for you to come.”

  “I—”

  “I’m the one paying for the rehearsal dinner and you’re the one who helped me with the planning. You’re coming. All right?”

  She bit the side of her lip. “If you like.”

  “I would.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” She examined the collection of things sitting in front of her door. “What’s all this?” A huge vase of flowers. Three flavors of ground coffee. A sheet cake from the caterer. (It had been her favorite, despite that apple pie had been a better fit for the rehearsal dinner.) Five packages of denture cleaner for Mrs. Chapel. And a twenty-four-pound bag of Meow Mix.

  “A few thank-you gifts. And a few gifts to apologize for the fact that your invitation was delivered so late.”

  Delighted laughter broke from her lips. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Do you like any of it?”

  “I like all of it.” She was so touched and surprised by his thoughtfulness that she almost wanted to cry over it. “Thank you.” Her voice emerged wobbly with emotion. “How did you know that Shadow eats Meow Mix?”

  He lifted one masculine shoulder. “I remembered from eight years ago. I’ll help you carry it in, then I’ll get out of your way. I know your family’s in town.” He must have heard, of course, every syllable of her exchange with Mrs. Chapel.

  She opened her door and dazedly tried to lend a hand, while he, in actuality, did all the work.

  She stood in her small kitchen, the counters covered with his gifts, the invitation in her hand, quiet resting over them as they smiled at each other. Thank God she hadn’t left wadded up panties or something on her floor.

  “I’ll see you tonight at the rehearsal,” he said.

  “See you then.”

  He held eye contact with her for a drawn-out second, then let himself out.

  Holly blinked at the items. Did Josh like her? Hope, worry, and confusion battled for control of her mind. Hope, because she dearly wanted him to like her. Worry, because giving him power to hurt her terrified her. Confusion, because she didn’t know which was stronger.

  The hope. Or the worry.

  Where was Holly?

  Ben and Amanda’s family and friends had arrived at the Texas Olive Oil Company and gathered on the patio for drinks and appetizers thirty minutes ago. Josh hadn’t joined them. He stood alone inside the barn, wearing a suit and watching the side door that had been left open for arriving guests.

  He glanced at his watch, frowning. Concern tightened around his chest and lungs.

  Earlier, at the rehearsal at the church, Holly had welcomed everyone to Trinity and offered a prayer. The minute she’d finished praying, Mitzi had taken over. Mitzi had made them run through the routine they’d follow during the ceremony three times.

  Holly had stood off to the side the whole time, close enough that Mitzi or Amanda or Amanda’s mom could ask her questions. She’d been wearing business clothing instead of party clothing and holding a pen and the notebook she’d brought with her when they’d looked at venues together. Each time Josh had glanced at her during the rehearsal, she’d either been looking carefully elsewhere or down at her notebook.

  Josh turned, taking in the view beyond the open sliding doors of the guests and the scenery. The stormy skies had disappeared around noon. They’d left behind clear, still weather ideal for everything Holly had imagined this night could be. He couldn’t accept that she wasn’t here to see it.

  “Josh,” one of the bridesmaids called to him. “Come on out. I have some people to introduce you to.”

  “Be there in a minute.”

  He returned his gaze to the side door. Holly had told him she’d come tonight. But maybe she’d chosen to skip it at the last minute. She might be tired. Or maybe she’d made
plans with Rob.

  Should he call her to make sure she was coming?

  He was an idiot. A ridiculous—

  Holly appeared in the doorway.

  He froze at the sight of her. She wore a dress of burgundy lace on a flesh-colored background fabric. She’d pulled her hair into some kind of loose bun at the back of her neck. High heels.

  She looked like a princess.

  Need, sharp and painful, broke open inside him. At eighteen, he’d been fatherless, poor, without influence, and sure of just one thing. His love for Holly. Years had passed, but that truth had not changed. The man who didn’t do anything halfway still loved her.

  He made his way toward her. She approached him with a smile.

  “I was worried you weren’t going to come,” he said.

  “I took time to change and redo my hair after the rehearsal.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. Is everything going well so far?”

  “Yes.” He offered the crook of his elbow and she set her hand in it. He guided her through the barn.

  “It’s like magic,” she said. “I can’t believe the transformation.”

  The equipment had been moved out and round tables brought in. Linens, votive candles, and large flower arrangements decorated each table. The caterer had suggested they hang lanterns staggered at different heights from the overhead beams, and he’d agreed. “Do you like how it turned out?” It mattered to him that she did.

  “I absolutely love how it turned out. Everything’s even better than I expected.”

  If only she’d let him, he’d throw her parties like this, or buy her jewelry, or take her on trips, or hire someone to socialize Shadow, or whatever else made her happy. “Anything you’d change?” he asked. “If so, I might still be able to make it happen.”

  “I wouldn’t change anything about this rehearsal dinner. Nothing at all.”

  I wouldn’t change you, he thought.

  They made their way through the guests to the far edge of the flagstones. When they came to a stop, she stepped gently away from him. Conversations and laughter surrounded them with a friendly hum. Rows of string lights extended from the roof of the barn over the patio, like a canopy.