Baseball bat over his shoulder, he rounded the corner to the stairs. Just as he was about to take the first step, he caught sight of the wedding gifts out of the corner of his eye. He’d loaded all of them into his Jeep and brought them over last night. They had definitely been wrapped. This was outrageous. And weird. A thief taking the time to unwrap his loot? Pile the cards neatly on the table? And the photograph he’d taken of Amanda and Pete was propped up in the middle of the table. At least they hadn’t destroyed it. Nevertheless, knowing someone else had violated his gift enraged him. Now he was hoping they were still in the house. Now, right or wrong, he was very much looking forward to a fight.
Andy took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top, he heard the unmistakable sound of ice rattling in a bucket followed by the pop of a champagne cork. Was he about to burst in on some kind of weird Bonnie and Clyde couple, prematurely celebrating the break-in? He hurried toward the master bedroom, flattening himself against the wall at the last minute. He had to keep the element of surprise; the intruders could be armed. But he didn’t hear whispering—or moaning. Just someone…guzzling champagne? Unable to help himself, he snuck a look through the doorway and stared in disbelief. There, standing in the middle of his bed in a hideous purple dress, was a woman with a bulging black garbage bag in one hand and his three-hundred-dollar bottle of Dom in the other, guzzling it down like the bridal version of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
Andy tried not to stare at her cleavage, wet with droplets of champagne, the one bright spot he could see in this bizarre sea he found himself swimming in. He was so flummoxed he forgot all about the baseball bat he was wielding. Unfortunately, it was the first thing the woman saw when she came up for air. Her eyes widened, and she screamed. Before Andy knew what was happening, the champagne bottle was hurtling straight for him. God, the woman had some arm on her! It was only natural to swing the bat in response. In a series of split-second revelations, Andy realized what he’d done, but it was too late—he’d already hit the equivalent of a home run. Only instead of breaking it, he’d boomeranged it, and the champagne bottle was now whizzing straight for the woman’s head.
“Duck,” Andy screamed. “Duck!” Oh God, it was going to kill her. Luckily, the woman’s reflexes kicked in, and she fell facedown on the bed. He’d never seen anyone drop so fast. The bottle, which would have taken her head clean off had she not hit the deck, sailed past and slammed into the back wall, finally shattering, exploding bits of glass and champagne like bomb fragments. Too bad the bed had never seen any action, no maiden voyage, for it had definitely just been christened.
Andy dropped the bat and bent forward, head down, hands on knees, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up again, the woman raised her head off the bed, and they stared at each other for the first time without the fear of imminent danger.
“Hello,” she said as if they were meeting over biscuits and tea.
“Hello?” he parroted. “Are you kidding me?” The woman pulled herself into a sitting position, looking completely at ease sitting on her knees, her dress billowing out like ripples of a wine-colored river. She folded her arms across her chest and stared. Andy felt like he had to defend himself, even though she hadn’t said another word. “You’re trespassing! You’ve vandalized the house! You stole the plants off the front porch—”
“Transferred.”
“You ravaged the—what?”
“What? What?”
“Transferred? What?”
“The plants. I simply transferred them to the neighbor’s porch.”
Andy shook his head and held out his hands in confusion. He didn’t know quite how to handle this. His desire for a fight was conflicting with the energy coming off this woman, drawing him toward her and equally disorienting him. It was as if she’d sideswiped him, and he was stumbling around, trying to figure out exactly where the hell he was. Luckily, focusing on the black garbage bag in her hand helped him revive a little bit of his anger. He marched over to it, pried it open, and made a triumphant noise as he yanked out a rose.
“And where are you ‘temporarily transferring’ these, m’lady? These prize-winning, top-dollar roses? To the dump?”
“They’re beautiful, yes,” she admitted. “But ‘prize-winning?’ You’re stretching it.”
“And that,” Andy yelled, pointing at the enormous champagne stain splashed against the back wall, “was not yours to drink.”
“You’re referring to the bottle that almost killed me?” she yelled back.
“I told you to duck!”
“I can’t thank you enough. Because my natural instinct would have been to stay and pray.”
“Screw you.” Andy couldn’t believe he was having this ridiculous argument with this psychotic woman. Even if she was extremely attractive; even if he did have an urge to rip her dress off and—
His lurid thoughts were interrupted when he glanced at the floor. It was immaculate. So was the bed cover.
“Where are my rose petals?” Andy said. The woman looked guiltily at his Hoover, which was propped near the foot of the bed. Its bag was bulging.
“You sucked up my rose petals?” Then, he made the mistake of looking around the room. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing along his side wall. He walked over and just stared.
Every single photograph from his dark room was out and lined up against the wall. Every photo he had taken of Michelle for the book. The photographs no one knew existed; the photographs nobody had ever laid eyes on but him.
“Did you take those?” the woman asked. “They’re incredible. They’re—”
“Shut up,” Andy said. His voice was low and serious. For once, she didn’t snap back a reply. He ran his hands through his hair, not sure how to handle this. “Get out,” he said.
“But—”
“Get out.”
“I can explain. I’m Kate. Amanda sent me over here…”
Kate continued to ramble, but Andy stopped listening to her. So that’s who she was. Amanda’s maid of honor, the best friend. He’d heard quite a bit about her from Pete. In fact, a few things he’d been told had intrigued him. He’d been looking forward to meeting her. None of it mattered now.
“You seriously need to get out of here right now,” Andy said. “I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you think you’re doing.” He turned to face her, and even though he couldn’t mistake the look of fear on her face, he was too angry to care. “These weren’t yours to touch,” he said. “These are none of your business.”
“I…I…didn’t realize. They’re so beautiful—” Andy put his finger up to his lip. The woman stopped talking.
“You need to promise me something,” Andy said.
“Anything.”
“You won’t mention these pictures to anyone.”
“Okay.”
“Not Amanda, not Pete, not your mother, not the mailman.”
Kate held up her right arm like she was testifying in court. “I swear.”
“Okay then. Now get out.”
“Okay, okay. But I have to ask. Why in the world wouldn’t you want anyone to see these? They’re amazing. They could be in a gallery, or a book—” Andy cut her another look. “I won’t say a word,” she said.
“Good-bye, Kate.”
“Amanda will be here any minute—”
“You can wait on the porch. You know—the one you dismantled piece by piece.”
“I can explain—”
“Oh, you can explain everything, can’t you? Well, don’t bother. I wouldn’t really be listening anyway.”
Kate squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Again,” she said. “I apologize.” She walked to the door. “I never should have let Amanda rope me into being a love sniper. But she’s my best friend, and she’s in pain. And I shouldn’t have taken your pictures out of that room. But I couldn’t help it. They’re so amazing—just like the photograph you took of Amanda and Pete. It was like I was standing right in front of t
hem. You captured them so well. And this woman…”
Kate pointed at the photographs lining the wall. They were truly stunning. The subject was a beautiful blonde wearing a billowing white dress in some, a sleek red one in others, and in the last one a little black dress. There were shots from all over the Vineyard, the lighthouses, the Gay Head Cliffs, the marina, the golf course. The colors were so vivid, the images almost haunting.
“You just have to know,” Kate began. “These pictures—”
Andy loomed in front of her.
“These pictures,” he interrupted, “are none of your business.”
Kate turned away, but stopped when she reached the door, and spoke her last piece without turning to look at him.
“You might be very talented You might be very generous,” she said as Andy studied the back of her. “Loaning your house to Amanda and Pete for their honeymoon…You may even think you’re extremely attractive—I couldn’t say. But what I do know…is that Amanda was right about one thing. You. Are. An egotistical ass.”
Chapter Three
Amanda knew it was a waste of time, playing it over and over again in her mind, but she couldn’t help it. She sat on a boulder overlooking the marina, sipping a latte and regretting all the lemon-drop shots from the bar last night, not to mention the Apple Pucker on the beach. Her overnight bag was beside her, and she was dressed in a simple white sundress that should have been her honeymoon outfit. Pete should have been at her side, enjoying the sea air, nuzzling her neck, and whispering “Good morning, Mrs. Dean” into her ear. But here she was, alone, unnuzzled, and still Amanda Bailey.
Had she made a mistake? How could she not go over and over it in her mind, replaying every second up until the wedding? Amanda gazed at the line of sailboats docked at the pier, swaying gently in the breeze. In the distance a catamaran skated across the ocean. This was the life. Amanda loved every bit of the island. She loved its cleanliness. She loved the shops on Main Street. She loved the boating culture. She loved the up-to-date summer outfits. She loved the beaches and the celebrity sightings. Unfortunately, she and Pete would never be able to afford to live here, but they’d been lucky enough to know Andy—he’d arranged the whole thing: the exclusive reservation for the ceremony and reception at the Harbor House, the offer of his cottage for an entire month—an offer that quite frankly surprised Amanda, given what she knew about the man. Pete had sworn her to secrecy, but despite the fact that Andy was a gifted artist, and would clearly do anything for Pete, he was a player, a gambler, and an egotistical ass.
Still, if the wedding had gone the way it was supposed to, she would have been thankful for his generosity. Amanda hugged her knees to her chest and breathed in the scent of the ocean. At least everyone who flew in for the wedding had a beautiful day ahead of them. Amanda made sure they were all still going sightseeing as planned. She’d begged her parents to orchestrate the outings without her. Some were going golfing, others wine tasting and shopping, and the last bit sailing. They would meet up for dinner in the evening. Everyone except for Amanda and her almost-husband. Amanda wasn’t going to face any of them, that was for sure.
They’d still gone on with the reception, even after the wedding had been canceled. After Amanda ran off with Kate to the nearest bar, Pete convinced everyone else to stay and party. Although, what choice did he have? It had all been paid for, not to mention their friends and family had traveled near and far, spent money, and taken time out of their busy lives to celebrate with them. Poor Pete. That’s what everyone was saying behind her back, she just knew it. Poor Pete. They thought she was to blame. Was she?
She’d gone over it with Kate and the bartender last night, but she couldn’t help but feel they’d been coddling her. So she went over it again this morning with her mother, her aunt Jessica, and three of the six bridesmaids. Of course they agreed that Pete had been out of line, everyone agreed that, but the verdict seemed to be they weren’t sure it raised to the level of calling off the wedding. And then her mother said the worst thing she could have possibly said: “Amanda you’re the one who will have to live with Pete day in and day out, and you’re the only one who can make this decision.”
What a thing to say! How could she speak the truth at a time like this? Amanda’s friends had always loved Amanda’s mother, her straightforward style, her laissez-faire parenting. Good for sneaking out and doing wild things as a kid; bad for devastating moments where you just needed a little comfort in the form of good old-fashioned maternal lies.
And the people at the coffee shop where she bought her latte this morning hadn’t been that helpful, either. One woman said men were like dogs and needed to be trained, but even that depended on whether you had a purebred or a mutt. Another woman shouted at Amanda not to pay any attention to that nonsense, that men were just like us only some of them could fix things. At this, the woman looked pointedly at the man sitting across from her. He shook his head and shoveled food in his mouth without a word. None of it had been helpful.
Why couldn’t someone just tell her what to do? What if it was just a case of cold feet? Isn’t that what bridesmaids and the mother of the bride were for? To push her off the matrimonial cliff no matter how much she protested? Amanda had gone tandem skydiving once; Pete had set it up as a surprise, all because, on one of their first dates, Amanda had bragged she was going to go skydiving on her thirtieth birthday. She’d lied, of course; she had no intention of doing any such thing, but she was trying to impress Pete with her sense of adventure. How was she to know that he would take her seriously and surprise her with a tandem instructor and a little plane? All the way up she thought she was going to be sick. When they reached their destination altitude of 12,000 feet, Amanda stood at the mouth of the plane and revolted. No way was she doing this! She didn’t care if the pilot said she had no choice now; what kind of person would willingly jump out of a perfectly good plane? She grabbed the top of the door with both hands and braced herself against the instructor, who was trying to push her out. Did the instructor let up? Did he say, “Oh, well, you changed your mind, we won’t go.”
No. He pried her fingers loose and pushed her out of the plane. And it had been the most exhilarating time of her life. What a rush! At first the air hit her like a brick wall, temporarily clogging her eardrums, so all she could feel was the pounding of her heart in her chest, and then they were falling, falling, falling. She spread her arms out and bent her legs back as she’d been taught, and suddenly she was flying. After several glorious moments of free-falling, the parachute opened, the world fell silent, and they soared.
It was the greatest feeling you could imagine, down, down, down, arms spread out, head held high. The ride was way too short, the ground coming up way too fast. Amanda started to worry once again, convinced she was going to slam face-first into the ground. But after a few tugs on the strings from the instructor, they were calmly gliding feetfirst as the ground came up to meet them. And even though she stumbled a bit on the landing, causing herself and the instructor, who was still strapped to her, to topple over and kiss dirt, it was still an incredible rush. And when they finally managed to pick themselves up, there was Pete on his knees in front of her, with a big grin and a diamond ring. It had been the most romantic moment of her life. And none of it would have happened if the instructor hadn’t given her a big shove. Maybe she should have made him her maid of honor instead.
Soon she would go to the cottage and go over it again with Kate. She would make Kate give a definite, thought-out opinion. But first, she had to get it straight in her own mind. It all started with the dress-fitting. True, the fitting had nothing to do with her fight with Pete, but if she was going to go over everything again, she might as well relish how happy she was before it all went to hell. Of all the wedding advice she’d tried to glean from magazines, websites, and friends, you would think someone, anyone, would have warned her to muzzle the groom.
One day before the wedding. The fitting.
“Don’
t cry.” They were standing in the back of the bridal shop, in the dressing area. Amanda was in the middle of the floor in her wedding gown. If Kate started crying, she was going to lose it. “I mean it,” she said, pinching Kate on the back of the arm.
“Ow, that hurts.”
“It was supposed to. If you start crying, you’re going to make me cry, and I’m not going to have red eyes, do you hear me?” Kate nodded and told Amanda how beautiful she looked.
“I know that’s what everyone tells brides,” Kate said. “You know? All babies and brides are supposed to be beautiful when we all know there are some really ugly ones out there. I’m sorry, that’s an awful thing to say. But it’s true. You are stunning. Truly stunning.”
Amanda looked in the mirror and flushed with pleasure. Her wedding gown was simple, but gorgeous. With its empire waist, V-neckline down to her ample breasts, and tiny diamonds and pearls around the waist, she even took her own breath away.
But what was threatening to make both of them start crying and never stop was the thing they weren’t mentioning, the cloud hanging over both of them all morning: Jeff should have been here to see this. He would have loved the Vineyard. He would have loved all the relatives coming together; he had a way with everyone, including Uncle Arthur. An uncle by marriage, Uncle Arthur was a Southerner and a religious conservative whom most people couldn’t take for more than five minutes once he started in on whiskey and the war. But Jeff would have happily chatted with him, and it wouldn’t have been long before Uncle Arthur was putty in his hands. Jeff would have no doubt even slipped in a point or two of his own, and Uncle Arthur would have wound up agreeing. Jeff just had a way with people, an easy way in the world. And by now he would have explored every nook and cranny of the island, with Kate on his arm. At the wedding they would have danced all night long and toasted Amanda and Pete, declaring them the second luckiest couple in the room. Jeff would have made it clear that he and Kate were still the luckiest, and he would have done it in a way that wouldn’t have offended anyone.
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