by Jean Oram
She entered the hall's lobby, praying Cynthia had sprung for some form of champagne fountain like Katie had suggested. She was going to have to stand next to her gorgeous, knee-weakening ex-fiancé in the receiving line, share a table with him, dance with him, and, for her sister's sake, act like it didn't bother her one iota.
Beth hung her coat in one of the rooms off the lobby and carried her gift to the reception hall. She gently placed the wrapped chocolate fondue fountain Dan had wanted on the gift table and dropped a little gift card for her sister in a card basket. Beside the table stood a large, well-crafted china cabinet sporting a massive red bow.
"Wow."
She walked around the cabinet, admiring it as she went. Why would someone bring such a large wedding gift here? Why wouldn't they simply deliver it to the bride and grooms' apartment?
Obviously, the gift giver wanted to display their generosity, not practicality. This thing was going to be a bitch to move. Damn showoffs.
She ran a hand over the glossy, dark, half counter that broke the upper glass cabinet from the closed-in cabinet below. It was cool and smooth. Experimentally, she opened one of the glass doors and was impressed by how perfectly it swung on its hinges. This piece had been handmade by a master. Stupid sister. She always had all the luck.
She checked for a card. Maybe she could invite the gift giver to her own wedding.
Nothing. It figured.
She lightly ran her fingers over the counter, letting her thumb rub the bumpy edge where she discovered an engraving. May the circle of your love be like a golden ring: as giving, precious, and unending.
Beth sighed. She wanted one of these. Bad.
Cynthia swished past, glowing. Beth pointed to the cabinet. "Where did you register, girl? Did Dad send it?"
Laughing, Cynthia propped the doors open to the lobby. "No. I doubt he even got the invitation I sent to Botswana or wherever he is. I ended up sending invites to three different addresses." She straightened her back and proudly took her spot in the soon-to-be receiving line. "Oz made it. Now, come on. People will be arriving soon."
Beth faced the cabinet again, confused. Oz didn't do carpentry. She didn't think he even owned a hacksaw. Someone didn't turn into a master cabinetmaker in a handful of months.
"Yeah, right," Beth muttered and gave the cabinet a last look. "Bought it is more like it."
She turned to join her sister and just about bowled into Oz.
"Oh." Embarrassment flooded her nervous system with lava, and she took several steps back.
"Hi." Oz gave her a calm, studying look and tucked his hands in his pockets. His eyes weren't nearly as relaxed as his demeanor. She glanced over his shoulder for his date; she'd been expecting Mandy to appear all afternoon.
Beth gave a little laugh. "Where did you buy this? It must have cost you a fortune."
Oz shifted, turning a shoulder to Beth. "I made it."
She leveled him with a give-me-no-guff look and waited.
He gripped the top of the cabinet, rubbing the varnish with a thumb. He propped up a card on an upper shelf that said Handcrafted by Oswald Reiter. "I had to keep myself busy." He met her eye. "This is it, Beth."
She laughed, staring at the card in disbelief. "This is what?"
Oz pushed past Beth.
Beth stared at the cabinet. Saw dust. Saw dust on his shoulders. The whittled the cigar box he was so nervous about giving. Benny's cabinets. She turned, facing his back. "Oz. I'm sorry."
Oz paused, half turning to judge her genuineness. He silently moved closer. "This is my debut. Nobody knew until now. Well," he looked over her head at the cabinet and sucked on his lower lip for a second before admitting, "I told Dad. He laughed and said I should focus on a real career. There was no way I could pay the mortgage and support you and a family playing with wood."
Shit. She'd just laughed at his dream like his father had. No wonder he didn't tell her this stuff. He probably felt like it was his life or hers—not their lives melded together.
Oz gave her a familiar half-smile and Beth lowered her gaze to stare at something safe, settling on the small, round buttons of his tuxedo shirt.
Instead of getting closure and finding that perfect reason to finally let go, she was finding more mysteries to pique her interest. Was this what love did? It made you greedy to know more about a person? Did it make you hold on even tighter when you should be letting go? Or was this simply an urge to tame and understand the unknown? Quite simply, it could be old-fashioned regret for losing what might have been.
Whatever it was, it stung. It stung that he'd been right about her. He was afraid she would laugh at his dream like his father did, and what did she do? She laughed.
"Did it take long to build?"
He stepped back, exhaled loudly, and ran a hand through his hair. "About two hundred hours."
She felt faint. Two hundred hours of dedication and perseverance. For his dream. And he was able to do it because she was gone.
"You always knew this was what you wanted to do, wasn't it?"
"I had an inkling."
She ignored the painful twist forming in her chest and promised herself she would do whatever she needed to do to set him free. Completely.
***
The bride and groom took to the dance floor, their wedding song's bass thrumming in Beth's chest. People gave her sympathetic pats, telling her she'd soon be married, too. But it wasn't that. It wasn't that at all. She needed some space so she could come to terms with how she'd held Oz back from trying something daring and new.
But if he'd seen so many things about her that she hadn't, why hadn't he seen that he was more important than her dream of a family? Family was all around her in Blueberry Springs. Looking out, interfering, taking her in. Family was so much more than blood and marriage. It was something she'd had all along.
The couple's wedding song silenced and Beth tucked herself behind Benny's ample height and width. Surely her sister wouldn't mind if she didn't dance. Surely she wouldn't hold a grudge and spoil Beth's own wedding dance two months from now if she hid out instead of joining the smiling wedding party on the dance floor. She risked a quick glance around Benny's arm to see if Cynthia had noticed her absence and a hand clamped onto her arm.
"There you are!" Oz gave her a grin and pulled her toward the band.
Damn.
As they began to sway to the music's rhythm, she studied Oz. How could he act so carefree when she'd just laughed at him?
"It's too bad Nash isn't well tonight," Oz said kindly. "Send my regards."
Beth kept her fake smile plastered in place and stepped on Oz's left foot. "Sure thing."
Oz winced, giving her a surprised look. He seemed more fit than he had been in months and he moved them smoothly around the dance floor with easy athletic grace. The warmth from his right hand crept through the material at her waist, creating an inner ache. If he accidentally brushed against her one more time, she was going to scream. Either that or do something stupid. She was supposed to be working on closure and letting him go, not whatever this was.
"Where's Gran?" he asked.
Beth flicked a gaze at Oz and clenched her jaw. "She went home. Why, do you want to drop her on her hip again?"
Oz's face reddened. He whispered, "I never meant to hurt her." His mouth set in a grim line, he twirled her out, yanking her back in again so quickly she had to put a hand on his chest so she didn't smack into him. His chest was surprisingly firm. She glanced up at him, but his attention was elsewhere.
A few weeks ago, he'd been granted special permission to enter the hospital in order to apologize to Gran. But had he apologized to Beth? No, of course not. She'd been on his parents' side, not his. Everything that had happened had been coming to her. They'd pushed Oz to continue with a business and career he didn't want. Wedged him forward into a life he wasn't ready for. Laughed at what he wanted. How could a man forgive a woman for that?
Oz abruptly dropped her into a spin before whirl
ing her back into his arms. She caught her breath as she found herself thrust up against him again. He could act as though they were friends, but she was still pissed off with him as well as herself. And doubly so for the way her body melted when in proximity with his.
She shook her head. She had Nash. Wonderful, sweet, lovely, detailed-oriented, list-checking Nash. She didn't need Oz. He didn't need her. Looking up, she gazed directly into Oz's eyes, unable to stop herself from trying to sort him out. He'd found his dream over two hundred work hours ago. He hadn't asked her back. Was it because she was already with Nash? Or was it because the only way he could move forward was without her? Why now? Why couldn't they have made it? How did she screw up? And was she going to do the same with Nash?
How, why, why? Her brain was stuck in toddlerhood.
Oz met her eyes, holding them for a second. They collided into the couple behind them and Oz stepped on Beth's right foot.
"Ow!" she squeaked.
"Sorry," he called over his shoulder as he danced them to safety. He pulled her through a tight spot, leading Beth with one hand as she danced around his moving body, his tantalizing cologne wafting around her.
"My patients miss you, even though you're a danger on the dance floor," she muttered. She felt an immediate pang of loss at the idea of moving away from everything to be in the city with Nash—which would undoubtedly happen. She may have held a man back from his career dreams once, she wasn't about to do it again. Even if it meant leaving.
Oz flashed her a grin.
"When did you start woodworking? Exactly?" she asked.
Oz shrugged. "A few months ago. It's a good distraction."
"From what?"
"Katie says to smile." He tipped his head toward his sister who was joining the dance floor with Will. Oz boosted his smile, making him look goofy.
Beth rolled her eyes and smiled despite herself. This was the way it was with him, wasn't it? Mad and upset at herself one second, lusting after him another, then sprinkle in some curiosity followed by laughter.
"Much better," he said, pulling her close. He spun her through the outskirts of the growing crush of dancers. She was starting to feel dizzy. She wasn't sure if it was from the dancing or the champagne she'd been using to fortify herself—and she noted, people seemed to like champagne just fine despite Katie's thoughts on the matter.
Oz regripped her right hand, the warmth of his touch heating her straight to the core. She looked into his eyes and there was warmth there as well. Everything about him was so achingly familiar. Her resolve fatigued and she wrestled with the temptation to rest her forehead on his shoulder. They settled into a gentle, quiet rhythm, Oz resorting to spins only to direct them out of the odd jam as the dance floor grew packed with couples, eager to share in the wedded couple's joy and love. She smiled as the song's last beats wound down. Finally. Oz led her into a complicated move, her feet automatically taking the right steps as he continued to gently guide and lead. As the song ended he pushed her out into a fast spin, then bringing her in to dip her low, chest to chest, before pulling her up and into one last, slow, attention-gathering spin, her dress flowing out around her.
Dizzy and exhilarated, Beth beamed. Without thinking she said, "Now, that I have missed!"
Their grins faded as nearby couples applauded.
Beth smoothed out her dress and gave a prim curtsy before removing herself from Oz and the dance floor. No need for people to get the wrong idea.
Oz caught her elbow at the edge of the dance floor. He whispered in her ear, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Beth steeled herself before turning to face his clean-shaven cheeks: her heart had stupidly forgotten that this Oz, just because he looked like the old one, was not a man who loved her back.
Not that she loved him. She couldn't. She loved Nash. She just had to let go of Oz once and for all and all those mixed up feelings would vanish like Easter eggs hidden at dog level.
"Could I lure you to a secluded corner?" Oz winked and tilted his head away from Mary Alice who was closing in.
Beth acted nonchalant despite the way her body was begging and pleading to be shoved up against his. "Fine," she said primly, crossing her arms.
He led her by the elbow into the lobby and off into a large, unused coatroom which was being used for random storage. Closing the door, the room filled with the scent of his special occasion cologne. Honestly, she should demand he return it to her. That and open the door. Being in a closed coatroom with her ex was not the kind of rumor she wanted getting back to Nash.
"How are you doing?" Oz asked, smoothing out his shirt with a flat hand—which she noted went straight down from chest to pants, no belly stopover. While she'd failed at Nash's Buff Ex Plan, Oz had obviously succeeded. The bastard. Didn't he know that was unfair in love and war?
She shivered. "I'm great. Really great." She needed to get out that door. The one he was standing in front of. Yes, they needed closure. Yes, there was lots to talk about such as the small fact that he still hadn't sent over the papers to free her from the trailer's mortgage, but she couldn't bear to have more mysteries surface. She couldn't bear to be locked in a closed room with him. Not today when everything about him was wonderfully, comfortingly familiar from the tenor of his voice to the small scar skirting his eyebrow from the time Mandy chased him into a metal slide.
"I wanted to apologize," Oz said, running a hand along the high coat rail, acting like he hadn't said a thing.
She'd waited so long to hear those words, but now they felt as though they would only usher in damage. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She couldn't do this. Not now. Not on Valentine's Day. Not at her sister's wedding. Not when her fiancé was tucked away, helplessly ill.
As she went to move past Oz, he spoke. "My dad was right." He gave a sad half-smile and ran a hand through his hair, making a piece at the back stand up and wave.
She stopped beside him, their shoulders touching. She flicked her eyes up to read the emotion on his face. He looked strained. Her worries slowly softened. Sighing, she resigned herself to having another tough conversation. She closed her eyes and asked, "He was right about what?"
"That if I didn't smarten up and be responsible I'd lose you. That you wouldn't like the real me and you'd run."
Exasperated, Beth said, "Did you ever even let me see the real you? And I didn't run anywhere."
"I know. I know." Oz put up his hands in surrender. "I was afraid."
She leaned against a small round table situated behind her. "Do you know who the real Oz is now?"
He tipped his head up so he could look at her with one eye. He sucked in a deep breath and paused as if making a decision. He plucked a dusty wineglass from a box and twisted it in his hands.
"I've always felt like my father was running my life. Always telling me how to make a play in football. He'd even override the coach. I didn't know who to listen to." He raised a shoulder helplessly. "I don't even know if I even liked football. It was such a relief when I twisted my ankle in my final season." He paused before continuing. "And with the business there was never really a choice. I was in there after school all the time." Oz let out a disgruntled snort. "My dad didn't want me getting into trouble with Mandy. I think he wanted me to date someone who was less likely to speak their mind and call him on his bullshit. And so he made me work in his office."
Beth raised her eyebrows, but kept her mouth shut.
"Since I was okay at it, Dad kept training me. It seemed like a good option for a kid like me who would probably never go to college. Not like you."
She gave an absent smile, her thoughts stuck on the fact that Harvey hadn't approved of Mandy. Even though things were always tense between her and the girl, it wasn't like Mandy was disliked around town.
Oz continued, "Mandy used to encourage me to step out of my father's shadow and open up my own business. I think that's a good part of why Dad didn't like her." Oz looked thoughtful for a moment. "In some ways, I think she
knew what I needed even before I did."
"She tried to trap you," Beth reminded him, furious that Mandy might have been a better choice somehow.
"Could you blame her? We'd been together for almost eight years and she still didn't have a ring on her finger. She was scared and we were growing apart. In some ways, I was all she knew and I think she was afraid of being alone."
"Yeah, except Frankie Fall-Off-The-Tower Smith was right there ready to catch her. Among others."
Oz let out a chuckle and the air between them changed. Brought them closer. Beth tried to ignore the fact that the lips in front of her had last kissed the very ex they were discussing in somewhat positive terms. And that he'd chosen that ex over her again.
But if Mandy was so great for him... "Why didn't you change jobs when you guys broke up then?"
"I thought the work angst was due to the tension between Dad and Mandy. By the time I realized it was actually coming from me, it was easier to keep moving. And, I got used to making a decent wage. Anyway, no job is 100% awesome all the time, right?"
"I guess." Beth rubbed her ring finger and thought of how there had been a few times in the past month where she'd wanted to stay cozied up in bed instead of going in to work on the weekend. "But you said you had an inkling about woodworking?"
"I thought it was intriguing. I didn't consider it as an actual career until a year ago when I talked to my dad about it. And you know how that turned out. I didn't even know if I could do it. And then a few months ago Mandy needed help in the house she's renting. She ruined some of the cabinets in a toaster fire and was afraid her landlord would make her replace all the cabinets in the kitchen. She didn't have renter's insurance. And then Benny needed some help with renovations. I really enjoyed it. I thought maybe I could do it for a living."
Beth shut her eyes. Mandy. Saving Oz's day again. That bitch. How did she always come out smelling like roses?
Oz continued, "When you and I got together and we started talking kids, I had these thoughts. Like: What if this isn't the real me? What if I burn out? How can I raise kids and be a good dad if I don't know who I am? How can I be an honest, genuine father who lets my kids be themselves if I can't even do that for myself? That's when I started talking to Dad about moving down to part-time so I could explore my interests."