The Runaway Bridesmaid

by Kaitlyn Rice

  She wondered if she would always regret her choice.

  “Maybe I should just go, Trevor,” she said. “Things are…different already.”

  He took her hand. “I have an idea.” He led her to the kitchen again, and on through to a small laundry room. He opened a door and stepped out onto a raised, screened-in porch. He waved toward a set of wicker chairs that faced a small yard and a forested slope beyond.

  “This is gorgeous, Trevor.”

  “Sit. I’ll get us some wine.”

  While she waited, Isabel convinced herself that she could handle tonight. She’d grown up a lot in the past few weeks, and she felt braver. Bolder. She wouldn’t regret this time.

  Trevor returned with two glasses of chardonnay and sat in the love seat beside her. They wandered into his bedroom an hour later. Trevor kissed her, his mood somber but loving, and she rushed him into the bed.

  Into sex.

  Maybe she was hoping she could forget their goodbye, but it loomed even larger in her thoughts. She started crying after the first few, urgent moments. “I’m sorry,” she said, frustrated with herself. “I can’t. This is just too difficult.”

  He rolled away from her.

  “Could you take me back to the lodge now?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  His wording didn’t escape her notice.

  After they dressed, Isabel grabbed her purse and Trevor led her out to the Jeep. He started the drive to the lodge at nine o’clock. On the way Isabel tried to explain that they could call each other and exchange e-mails.

  He nodded, but she knew he would never write. It wouldn’t be enough, just as their last lovemaking attempt hadn’t been.

  You couldn’t get your fill of someone you loved.

  But Trevor would get over her, she knew. He’d committed himself to a single life, so he must have made this same choice before.

  And she, well, she’d come to Colorado to help her dear friend plan a wedding. She’d done so much more.

  She’d learned so much.

  She couldn’t settle for a steady, hardworking man just because he didn’t fit her mother’s beliefs about men. If she ever fell in love again, she knew what she wanted. She wanted more—a man like Trevor without the commitment issues. A relationship like the one they’d found, with a marriage certificate.

  For now she’d focus on Darla and the wedding.

  And then she was headed home.

  SAM AND DARLA’S tall, gentle-eyed minister had been very patient, waiting out under the gazebo for twenty-two minutes before Sam’s cell phone rang. Before he’d walked away to carry on a private conversation, Sam had caught Darla’s eye and murmured, “Maybe it’s Trevor.”

  No one had heard from him all day. Sam and Darla had commented on his absence several times as they’d worked around the property, preparing for tomorrow’s big day.

  Isabel thought he was just recovering, gathering his wits before he arrived to the rehearsal dinner tonight.

  Isabel had kept busy. While she’d washed plates and utensils with Darla’s mother, Isabel had talked to the older woman about her prognosis. Georgia looked good. She wore a wig very like her own hair, and she claimed to enjoy her recent weight loss. Isabel could see that Darla got some of her energy from her mother. She suspected that they’d both be fine.

  Isabel had also tied bows to the backs of two dozen folding chairs, and she’d accompanied Sam’s father to the liquor store in Lyons, helping him pick up several cases of wine and beer.

  She’d been glad for the constant work.

  Now she watched Sam, standing out near the aspens and frowning as he spoke. After a couple of nods, he clicked off the phone, stuck it in his shirt pocket and strode back to the gazebo.

  “Trevor’s on his way,” Sam said. “He says to go ahead, that he knows this routine by heart. He’ll catch up with us at the restaurant if he doesn’t make it here.”

  “Did your friend explain the holdup?” Georgia asked.

  “Basically, it boils down to car trouble,” Sam said. “He’ll get here as soon as he can.”

  Sam and Darla traded a look while Isabel’s relief turned into disturbance. “Does he need help?” she asked.

  “He’s not the one with the breakdown,” Sam said. “He’ll tell you about it later.”

  She hoped so.

  The minister began explaining the sequence of events, which was fairly simple since Sam and Darla had just two attendants. Still, as Isabel concentrated on the minister’s instructions, she paid as much attention to Trevor’s responsibilities as to her own.

  In less than a half hour they finished their run-through, and Trevor had yet to arrive. Everyone piled into cars to head down to Lyons. They were eating dinner at a small Mexican restaurant that had an outdoor seating area.

  Isabel insisted on taking her own car. She’d already decided that if Trevor didn’t show up, she was heading to his house to wait until he arrived. If necessary, she’d camp out on his front step until morning.

  She wanted to talk to him.

  Surely he wouldn’t avoid the wedding because of her, would he?

  Isabel arrived at the restaurant and followed the waitress outdoors, then tried to pull herself into the conversation about Sam’s parents’ life in Tucson. She listened and nodded and occasionally turned in her seat to check the door.

  She ordered a chimichanga, ate it and listened politely, even when cars drove into the lot. Every time she thought she heard Trevor’s Jeep, she watched the door.

  By dessert time, she forgot to listen. She declined the great-looking fried ice cream and simply stared toward the doorway.

  Surely he would come.

  He arrived as everyone was finishing a cup of decaf. He walked out onto the little patio and sat down next to Isabel before anyone else had noticed him.

  Isabel turned toward him, a dozen questions buzzing, but Sam’s father stood to shake Trevor’s hand. “Trevor Kincaid, how are you?” he said in a quiet voice much like Sam’s.

  “It’s been a while.”

  They spoke like old acquaintances, and soon Sam and Darla brought out the attendants’ gifts—a silver bracelet for Isabel and cuff links for Trevor. Finally the group’s attention moved to Georgia, who’d begun a story about Darla’s sixteenth birthday.

  Isabel leaned closer to Trevor. “What happened to you?” she murmured.

  “Long story,” he said, glancing at her as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips.

  “Someone had car trouble?” she prompted.

  “A professor friend who met me on campus to discuss an article we’re co-writing.”

  She turned in her seat to peer at him, narrowing her gaze. “This professor’s car broke down in a university lot?”

  Sighing, Trevor set down his coffee cup. “No-o-o. She left just before I was due to head up to the lodge, and her car stalled on her way home. She flagged me down when I passed her on the highway.”

  Isabel had no right to feel jealous, but she did. “You met with a female professor today?”

  “Yes. It was a work-related meeting.”

  Isabel leaned closer, so only Trevor could hear her. “Today was awfully important to your friend Sam over there,” she murmured.

  Trevor bent nearer, too, and she felt his breath warm on her cheek. “I know. I didn’t intend to miss it.” His voice sounded low and rough, as if he was struggling for patience.

  She faced forward, grabbing her cup and drinking the last few drops of coffee. It didn’t help. Her throat felt tight. Her chest felt heavy. “It took two hours for you to start this professor’s car?” she asked, forgetting to lower her voice.

  Trevor leaned away from her and caught her gaze. “No. I couldn’t start it,” he said. “We called an auto service, and I waited with her.”

  Isabel blinked at him.

  “Sherrilyn Averill is sixty-nine years old,” Trevor said. “I couldn’t just leave her on the highway.”

  Isabel felt her chee
ks grow hot, and she peered down at her empty cup. “Of course not. Sorry.”

  She felt a little better. Not as good as she’d like. She wished Trevor had been with her at the Burch Lodge. She wished he’d helped her with the chairs and the liquor and the damn dishes.

  She wished he’d been clinging to their every last second together. Thinking about her.

  Because that was what she’d been doing, while he’d returned to an everyday world she’d never know.

  “Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

  “I’m sure you know you did.”

  “Don’t worry, I know the drill.”

  Isabel sat back in her chair and listened to everyone chatter.

  Within minutes, Sam and Darla and their families started making motions to leave.

  Isabel put her hand on Trevor’s arm. “Stay,” she said, making sure he heard her.

  Then she stood up to hug the bride. “I’ll be in later,” she whispered in Darla’s ear. “Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Darla glanced between her and Trevor, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “I’ll try.”

  After the rest of the wedding party had left, the waitress brought her and Trevor another coffee. Isabel took a sip and then turned her chair around so she could watch his face as they talked. “Tomorrow is important to Sam and Darla,” she began.

  “I know.”

  “You won’t decide to go on campus again, or take off on a morning hike?”

  “No, I won’t.” His gaze was razor-sharp. “I might have entertained thoughts of escaping all this wedding hoopla, but I intended to be here today. Honestly.”

  “I know weddings aren’t a lot of fun for you,” Isabel said. “I guess I can understand why.”

  He stared at her, silent for a moment, then said, “This one will be really rough.”

  “You want to know something?” she said. “This one will be hard for me, too. I don’t like the thought of leaving, and I’m mad at myself for ruining last night.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, glancing at her mouth. “I knew asking you to move was a big request. And you had a right to be upset.”

  She frowned. Nodded.

  “Maybe you should ask me to move to Kansas,” he said, just barely lifting a corner of his mouth. “In the interest of sexual equality.”

  “Would you?”

  “I don’t know. I love my life here.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing I do know,” Isabel said. “We both love Sam and Darla, and we would regret doing anything that would tarnish their wedding day. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, even though we’re not exactly joyful, let’s hold ourselves together,” she said. “In fact, since we have only one more day together, let’s make it special for us, too.” She grinned. “Why, we could have fun with this. Maybe make wedding history!”

  “You aren’t suggesting that we skinny dip at the reception, are you?” he asked. “Because I can assure you it’s been done.”

  “It has?” she asked, sidetracked.

  He nodded.

  “Well, no. That wasn’t my idea. I think we should make tomorrow a first for you.”

  The dimples lined up, and Isabel laughed. “I think we should make tomorrow the very first time that Trevor Kincaid actually enjoys a wedding.”

  “Think that’s possible?”

  “Why not? Sam and Darla planned a short ceremony, which will be followed by good food, drinks and great music. Sounds like a party to me.”

  He nodded. “And you will still be here.”

  “And I’ll be here.”

  As they got up to leave, Trevor said he would be following her car to the ranch. He knew he’d be needed to help Sam in the morning. He’d brought an overnight bag and he was staying at the lodge, in his old room.

  He paused near their vacated chairs, looking at her for a moment. She caught his unspoken communication.

  He didn’t ask her to visit him in his room; yet he did.

  With his tone and his expression and his soul.

  She would make this last night work. No tears.

  Chapter Fourteen

  An hour later, Isabel met Trevor at his lodge bedroom door and kissed him before either of them had spoken. She didn’t stop kissing or loving him until the wee hours, when they both fell asleep.

  She woke in the morning, realizing they hadn’t talked last night. And she didn’t feel like talking to him now. She didn’t know what to say and was becoming more and more miserable about leaving.

  He woke up then and rolled over on top of her. Their lovemaking was slow and tender. Surely their final goodbye.

  Then when the sunlight was strong across the windows, Isabel held her tears long enough to say goodbye to Trevor and sneak back to the house.

  She allowed herself one good cry while she showered and dressed. Then she made her appearance in a kitchen full of happy chatter, and was immediately recruited to help set the reception tables and run folding chairs out to the gazebo.

  At a little after three, Isabel, Darla and Darla’s mother closed themselves into Isabel’s bedroom to work on their hair and makeup. A knock sounded at the door a while later, and Isabel opened it to Trevor.

  The ladies laughed at his reaction to their big curlers and green mud masks. “The caterers arrived and asked where to set up the buffet,” he said. “Sam didn’t know, so he sent me to ask.”

  He eyed Darla as if his friend would be horrified if he saw her in such a state, and the women all laughed harder.

  He was adorable—playing it up, having fun and getting into the spirit of things, as he’d promised.

  Isabel would miss him like anything.

  Moving away from her family and her home to be with a man didn’t sound right.

  But leaving Trevor didn’t feel right, either.

  She wished her choice were easier.

  At four-fifteen, the women heard another knock on the door. This time Sam walked into the room without an invitation, causing Darla to gasp, grab her wedding dress off the bed and run into the adjoining bathroom.

  “I’m sorry, Darla. I know I’m not supposed to be in here,” Sam hollered after her. Then he turned his worried face to Isabel. “But I thought you would need to know. Angie has arrived in her flower girl dress.”

  “She’s here?” Isabel slid one last curler out of her hair. “Where?”

  “She and her dad and her brother are talking to Trevor in his lodge office. You’d better get over there.”

  Darn right she should. Isabel glanced at Darla, who was peeking through the crack in the door. “Don’t worry,” Isabel said, soothing her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can to finish dressing.”

  She rushed from the room, barefoot and still in her robe. When she strode into Trevor’s office, she caught a glimpse of him in his tux before Angie jumped up from the long bench.

  “Hi, Izza-bell! I gedda be the flower girl!”

  The little girl was pretty in her delicate lilac dress, but the wrinkling near the hem indicated that she’d probably worn it all the way here. “I see that,” Isabel said.

  She said hello to R.J., dressed in his Sunday clothes and sitting next to Angie on the bench.

  The she focused on Roger at the end. Handsome, pink-faced Roger, who’d worn his best blue suit.

  “Hi, Isabel.”

  She shook her head. “Roger, what are you doing here?”

  “I was invited.” He pulled the photocopied invitation from his pocket, as if she’d asked for proof. “Angie wouldn’t stop talking about the wedding, and we all missed you. So here we are!”

  “I’ll be heading home tomorrow, and you didn’t tell Darla you were coming.”

  He shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “I know.”

  “We gave the caterer a head count a couple of weeks ago. Your showing up here isn’t good, Roger.”

  “We don’t need to eat.”

  That wasn’t the point.r />
  Trevor was standing behind his desk, watching her. She turned her gaze to him, taking in the rented black tux and those watchful eyes.

  Isabel was amazed at the difference in her reaction to the men. When she was near Trevor, she bloomed.

  Damn it. She’d wanted to prove to him that they could do something different and end their relationship in a loving and creative way. She’d wanted to enjoy this day with him. She’d convinced him, and herself, that they could have a good time.

  A bearable ending.

  That was the point.

  Isabel grabbed Roger’s coat sleeve. “Follow me, please.” She led him through the main office, then out onto the porch. Once there she turned to face him. “You should have warned me that you were coming.”

  “I called last night. There was no answer.”

  “We were at the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Oh. Well.” Roger fumbled with something in his inner coat pocket, then slid down to one knee as he pulled it out. “I was a fool, Isabel,” he said. “I need you to know that I still want to marry you.”

  He opened the box to reveal a diamond ring that he couldn’t have afforded.

  Isabel had her back to the lodge. She stood looking at a gorgeous ring and praying Trevor couldn’t see or hear them. He’d be crushed.

  She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. Finally she opened them and tugged at Roger’s sleeve again. “Get up, Roger. This isn’t the time or place.”

  He frowned toward the lodge windows. “Because of him?”

  “Because this is Darla’s special day. Not mine.”

  He closed the box with a snap and stood up. “But we will talk soon?”

  “Not today.”

  “Do you mind if the kids and I stay?”

  She sighed heavily. “I could hardly tell Angie to leave, could I? She arrived in her flower girl dress.”

  “That was her idea, not mine.”

  “And she’s your kid. Ever think of saying no?”

  He gave her a look of apology, then returned the box to his pocket. “R.J. and I will stand up to watch the wedding. Will you help Angie with what she needs?”

  “Of course.”