by Rissa Brahm
“Why worry you? You have enough drama to deal with at your event, and I’m fine! Lucinda, trust me. I would have called if anything more serious had happened.”
“Listen, love. You’re more than an employee to me. I need to hear about this type of thing, whether it got serious or not! And the brother of the groom, thank God for him! Thank God!”
Isabel rolled her eyes. “Yes, I definitely would have had to call you if it weren’t for him.”
“Well, you’re almost done with this gig, Isa, but if you need me to juggle things and get you out of it, I can call—”
“No—please, Lucinda…” Being replaced at an event would’ve been a travesty for the event, for the bride, and for Isabel. “I really am fine. I’m not letting another planner step into my wedding. I mean this wedding!”
“If you’re sure. But listen, Isabel, I also got a call from the mother of the bride earlier…”
“It’s not even 7:00 AM! How is that even possible?”
“Well, with Annette Rine, who knows? Maybe her sleeping pills wore off early today!” Lucinda laughed. “She called with some accumulated bullshit about, well…you. Some rude remarks you’d supposedly made, some mishandling of an allergic reaction the maid of honor had? So, I want you to know that I told her not to phone me again. I told her that if the bride isn’t happy with something, the bride can go directly to her planner. And if her planner cannot help her, then the bride can phone me. ‘The bride. Only the bride,’ I said. Then I hung up.” She cackled, having enjoyed herself far too much.
Isabel felt good. Being supported by Lucinda was a real relief, but again, she expected nothing less of her boss and friend.
“I just had to call and prepare you, but no matter, you’ll pull everything off today without a hitch. I have no doubt. And don’t let those bitches get to you, you hear me?”
“I won’t. Anyway, the bride and I really clicked, so I’m really not worried. Okay, so let me go get ready. Have good luck up where you are!”
“Luck…hah! Bye, love!”
*
Just as they hung up, her sister, Celeste, came in carrying two coffees. Isabel’s clock showed 6:31 AM.
She kissed Isabel on her forehead. “Oh, God, Isa, Antonio called me this morning. I’m so glad you’re okay, m’ija. Dear Lord, thank heaven! And thank God for the best man, yes?”
“Zack,” Isabel said to the floor. “He literally ripped Roberto off me, Celi.”
Celeste studied her face. “Isabel Angelica, do I…do I see a…a sparkle in your eye?”
God, is there a damn “sparkle” now? Isabel hid behind her coffee cup, taking a slow, steady sip. A comment like that from the sister who’d practically raised her was not good. Isabel couldn’t just shrug it off.
Celeste walked over to open the bedroom drapes then came back to the bed and took Isabel’s hand. Celeste sat there quietly, rare for her sister. And well-played, the woman knew Isabel would talk.
Isabel sighed. “Zack…he…well”—no-no-no, she couldn’t tell Celeste—not a good idea—“he didn’t hurt Roberto, not a hair on his body. He wouldn’t let Roberto near me, but he wouldn’t hurt him either. Not a single jab. But I…I was…I am…really scared…and torn. I’m so damn torn, Celeste! Roberto’s issue is my fault! And Zack…I just wish…”
“What, Isa? Wish what?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing…” Jesus, Isa! Celeste couldn’t know how she felt about Zack. Because they just couldn’t be. And Celeste would’ve been impossible to combat with her incessant ‘Pin Down a Man for Isabel’ campaign. There just was no point.
And since there was no point, Isabel felt a sudden torrent of shame. Knowing her jinxed pattern, how could she have been so selfish, so horrible, so wretched, letting Zack into her life as far and as deep as she had? To even consider leading Zack further, risking his very existence for her own lustful heart? She couldn’t even look Celeste in the eyes, couldn’t bear the thought of her sister seeing her as the weak and cruel hypocrite that she really was.
Isabel felt Celeste zeroing in on her, as if sensing her inner turmoil.
“Isabel, m’ija…mi amor. You are so beautiful. A sweet soul, and so strong, too. Like, you wear this armor…yes, a thick shield of heavy iron armor, which, after all you’ve been through, I thank God for, Isa. For your survival, I thank the heavens. But please”—Celeste lifted a brow and sighed—“I just don’t want you to forget what’s under that armor. Please, for heaven’s sake, for Mama’s sake, don’t forget your heart.”
Isabel couldn’t hold back her emotion, and reached over to hug her sister. Celeste loved her, she knew it and felt it. And Isabel loved her back. But still, there was no way around it, forgetting her heart was precisely what she had to do.
*
She threw back what was left of the lukewarm coffee, then went to get dressed within minutes flat.
She came out of her room in a cream-colored pantsuit that outlined her curves—practical, classy, elegant.
She quickly went over the day’s details in her head while her sister fixed her food for the road.
Raquel had confirmed the arrival of the entire Bella Caroll wedding wine order, thank God. And the flowers were en route—no white lilies among them. The cake, the priest, the headsets, all set or in progress. The tuxes, too. And lastly, the bride’s gorgeous gown, she knew was ready and waiting…yes, the bridal gown.
Vivid detail of her own wedding dress sprang to mind, even after so long. And with the image, a moving memory. Her parents, both singing loudly over the noise of the wind blowing through the four open car windows. Along the winding scenic road running the southern part of the vast Bahia de Banderas—to her church.
Isabel’s dress filled the entire back seat, the top layer fluttering up ivory satin into her gently made up face. As they approached town, the ornate iron dome peeked over the townscape. The trade winds off the sea gusting through the windows, along with the sun’s rays, made her squint, but she wouldn’t let her destination out of her sight knowing Sebastian was waiting for her inside.
Also rolling into the bayside town, a glowing yellow blanket of morning fog, its source looked to be a lightning storm farther out over the water. The yellow-tinted mist reached the church, a perfect backdrop for her magical sanctuary.
The building, set on a hill in the town center, peeked in and out of her view as they descended into Vallarta. After minutes of craning her neck, almost a game for her eyes, she had her steady sights on the Church of Saint Guadalupe. She even remembered the warmth that filled her chest.
Until the blinding white crack hit the steeple. One of Vallarta’s infamous lighting storms, Fate herself, had hit, leaving only smoke and flames to fill her view.
When she arrived, they wouldn’t let her see him. Sebastian had been waiting at the altar in his black suit, a white lily in his lapel, when a large ceiling beam fell, literally crushing his body and simultaneously, her heart.
“Isa!” Celeste shocked her back to the here and now. “Grab your tablet and your bag. Over there, m’ija. Vamos. Antonio’s here to drive you.”
She hopped in the front seat with her brother, ready to drive along that same scenic rollercoaster ride that she’d traveled in her trip down memory hell a minute ago. She shook it off with a quick in-and-out breath, and set to wondering how her first large-scale wedding would go off. The list of points stacked against her was a long one. Assaulted the night before; being impossibly in…something that may be love with the best man; getting no more than a few hours of sleep in days; a complaint from the mother of the bride; and now, total cry-eye from her brief talk with her sister.
A longer sigh. Just how awesome will this day be?
CHAPTER 36
She calmly strolled through her task list and agenda in the hotel’s back office, Charlie’s desk was open to her anytime he wasn’t sitting at it, which was basically always the case.
“How are you this morning, Isabel? After such a night…” Charlie asked
, popping his head in as he passed by. His voice had startled her, but she hid it well as not to make him feel bad.
“I’m okay. Thanks, Charlie. My mind is preoccupied. Probably a good thing, right?”
“Well, no worries. Got confirmation this morning that Roberto got transferred to that inpatient mental facility an hour north. He’s secured and he’ll get help. I’ll get you more details on Monday. You have far too much on your plate right now.” Charlie winked, gave her a caring nod, then tapped the wall twice, and was gone.
Isabel sighed with some relief and continued with her preoccupations.
Raquel had already emailed her an update for the morning. All the ladies had their dresses. The men had their tuxes…except for the one hanging on the back of the door staring at her with a note attached. Arnold, as it turned out, had left the tux for Isabel to take up to Zack. To be sure it is a fit, the note read. Where was Arnold? He’d had an emergency up in Sayulita—Lucinda. A raspy huff. The note also stated he would be back in Vallarta by noon at the latest in case there was any issue. Damn it, Arnold. And Lucinda!
She needed to be focusing on the bride! If they only knew what a distraction they had just thrown her way. But thankfully, they didn’t know.
Okay. She’d take the tux up to Zack, then go back to check the fit after seeing Amy in between.
And at least Raquel was there, glued to the bride like white frosting on wedding cake. The cake! She needed to check on a last-minute change Amy had requested. She walked to the elevator and texted Madeline’s at the same time, being careful not to walk into anything or anyone.
*
After a resetting sigh of her eyes, she knocked on Zack’s door. Then she knocked again, but louder. A quick glance at her phone—8:43 AM. Stay focused—no time.
He opened the door half asleep, golden tan chest and rock-hard abs on display, wearing only boxers, complete with…a total hard on.
“Do you answer the door this way for everyone?” she asked, shoving the plastic-wrapped tux into his tight and toned body to cover him from her conflicted gaze. She couldn’t even let her mind go there, especially after her early morning fantasy. For heaven’s sake, please God.
“Yes, I mean, shit, no. I’m, uh…I just woke up to the knocking. I overslept…from lack of sleep,” he stuttered. “But more importantly, how are you doing? Did you sleep at all? I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened, about you.”
“I see what you couldn’t stop thinking about,” she said, referring to his morning wood, but not missing his sentiments, his sweet and stuttering thoughtfulness. He was genuinely concerned for her, but she definitely couldn’t drift to the events of last night, either, not if she was going to pull this wedding off.
He saw right through her. “You have a lot on your mind. Is there anything I can do? To help?” His voice was as smooth as his silk boxers, now completely visible again as he’d folded the garment bag over his right arm, damn him.
In her low heels, she shifted her stance as heat shot straight to her face. Again, her self-pleasuring session flooded her brain with a mix of desire and guilt, then adding her time crunch, she was in no mood for…help. “Just please…try on the tux. I’ll be back to check it in exactly five minutes.”
And she left him and his raging erection there in the doorway.
*
Not again. He wasn’t ignoring his gut again.
Zack touched her wrist gently and begged her with his eyes to stay. “Wait. Give me one minute?” He needed to tell her that he’d gone back for her last night, that he should never have left her, and wouldn’t again. And it took him to the brink of madness, the thought of Isabel in pain or hurt and alone.
He could read the worry on her brow, the entire bridal party all residing in that very corridor. He knew Isabel didn’t want to be caught entering his room even to do her job.
But…“Just come in. It’ll save you time. Then you won’t have to come back and check on the tux. We’ll leave this door wide open, just like this,” Zack told her with a calm, even tone, trying to hold back his intensity. He was splitting at the seams to tell her all that he needed to. He’d hardly slept at all because of the thoughts and feelings swirling inside him, the whirlwind that last night’s fist pounding hadn’t done a thing to alleviate.
Isabel looked down the hall then pulled out her phone again for the time. “Fine. Only because it’ll save me time.” She moved past Zack while taking out her tablet from her bag, rushing her fingers over the virtual keyboard. She glanced up for only a moment at the too-large-to-miss fist-hole in the foyer wall, uttered a small, “hmm,” and stuck her nose back in her tablet.
Zack followed behind her, keeping the door wide open like he’d said he would. He watched her take a seat on a chair in line with the open door, sitting right at the edge of it, continuing her preoccupation with the device, typing, swiping, tapping. He knew she was legitimately busy with the wedding, being only a matter of hours away, but her complete escape from the present situation, from being present with him, was no doubt convenient.
Then a man’s voice in the hall floated in. “Thanks for dessert.” It was followed by a shuffling, a click, and two doors shutting, almost simultaneously. Isabel was already standing at attention, nostrils flared and looking more distant, assumedly trying for professional.
“It’s cool, just Wret. He was hitting on Jane all night. I’m sure that was his smooth exit from her room,” he said, bringing the tux into the large walk-in closet inside the bathroom to try it on quickly.
His whole-body ache from the chronic ‘without-Isabel’ void, had eased as soon as he saw her face through the peephole, and, no, he’d never open the door in only his boxers to just anyone—Isabel was light years from just anyone. Anyway, now the ache was replaced by a jackhammering pulse, and as he slid his legs into the tuxedo pants, he felt lightheaded. And also under extreme pressure. How would he get off his chest what he needed to when his audience was pretending to be less than interested? And in a legitimate rush.
He came out and cleared his throat for her attention. She pulled her eyes away from her tablet to look up at him. And a transformation wiped across her face, her features giving him the confirmation he so craved. Her eyes wide, the rise and fall of her chest halted.
She stood up and seemed to float over to him, out of direct hallway-view, even. When within inches of him, she stopped. Obviously trying to avoid looking into his face, she smoothed his tux jacket at the shoulders, her supercharged energy spiking his pulse to another level. Just short of a heart attack, he kept his arms pasted to his sides, holding back his deep desire to wrap her in them and never let her go.
“You look…amazing,” she said, suddenly caught in his eyes. But she flicked her attention away, assessing the fit of the rest of the ensemble. “Arnold did a great job.”
“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes following her gaze, insisting she hear him. “You are amazing, Isabel,” he told her, his hand moving to her chin, disobeying his internal orders and her past verbal ones.
His light touch lifted her face up, forcing her to look directly at him. “I was wrong to leave you last night at the car. I went to security to check on you afterward, but you were already gone. I should have stayed, should’ve ignored your stubborn ass.”
She couldn’t move her face, but she could shift her gaze. Her eyes looked to the ceiling and stayed there. Then her hand went to his and removed it from her chin. She stepped back.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Zack, for what you did for me last night.” She took three more steps backward, back in line with the open hotel room door. “And you were sweet to check on me.” She spun on her heels to grab her tablet and bag from the chair. “I’m honestly fine, though, especially with this wedding keeping my mind busy. And I really do have to go now.”
She was in the doorway a moment later. “You make a fine best man, Zack. You really are…I mean do.” And she was gone.
CHAPTER 37
; Off to the side of the flowered altar, Zack stood at the ready. His brother, the groom, stood next to him, tall, proud, eager, and mildly panicked.
Zack felt relaxed and quite entertained. To help calm Darren’s nerves, he nudged his brother to join him in people watching as the guests filed in. The brothers quietly mumbled closely held family secrets about each arrival to one another, but all the while, Zack scanned the church sanctuary for the most intriguing person in his world, the remarkable and stunning puppet master of the show, the wedding planner.
As he continued his search for Isabel, Darren elbowed him when their father entered. Bennet gave a far off, straight lined smile and nod and then seated himself in the last pew. Zack’s handshake yesterday, and Darren having decided to help his father out financially, seemed to have further humbled the man, an obvious glaze of shame noted even from the last row. But Zack thought it something of an act of courage that Bennet stayed for the wedding. Either way, Zack was relieved the man took to the sidelines. One less provocative ingredient in the day’s wedding stew. Because Zack’s biggest concern was his mother. She was already being amazing about his presence there, and as long as Bennet kept his spectator-level distance, his mother would be okay, and even maybe still enjoy herself.
But for Zack, a separate side disappointment came with the whole Bennet drama. Zack’s plans to tell his mother about Isabel had been interrupted. Soon enough, though. First things first, to get through this wedding weekend in order to get the chance to get through to his angel, his Isabel.
Minutes later the church was full, and the music began just as quickly. Darren looked with wide eyes at Zack, ready, willing, and suddenly spotlight-phobic. He slammed his little brother on the back, smiling.
“You’re ready for this, big man. You’re so ready.”
With the guests silenced, the organ introduction began filling the hall, and their mother, Elaine, came down the aisle looking very proud and, Zack thought, very elegant. She was arm-in-arm with Annette Rine, who seemed slightly medicated or buzzed, but at least the woman was smiling.