This Wedding is Doomed!

by Stephanie Draven

  The woman thanked him, laughing as she tried to pull the suitcase, with its single wobbling wheel, toward the lodge entrance. Part of the bottom scraped against the concrete. “She’s cute.” Renata tapped his elbow. “You should ask her for her number.”

  “Why?” Was she seriously trying to play the wingman in a parking lot?

  “’Cause she’s probably single. I know her type: lonely road warrior with a somewhat tidy ride, no ring on her finger, and she smiled at you like you were a package of discount beef tenderloin at the grocery store.”

  He wondered how he could get Renata to look at him that way. He had to say something instead of dwelling on the possibility that she might shoot him down. “I’ll pass.”

  “Let’s see if I offer to hook you up again,” she said. But he knew it was an empty threat. She was always doing that, and, truthfully, since the night of the game when they shared that moment, it had started to annoy him. “If you’re not going to do anything to improve your love life, Max, we should go inside because I need to find Julie. I’ve got my own problems.”

  “Besides the ugly shawl? You’re not wearing that during the ceremony, are you, Ren?” He knew she hated when he called her that, but that made him want to do it all the more.

  Renata groaned. “I had a bit of a wedding wardrobe malfunction.”

  “That bites. Can I see?” He was half-joking.

  She slapped his arm playfully. “No! It’s embarrassing enough.”

  They made their way through the lobby, getting stopped twice by family and friends. Coming inside hadn’t been the best idea.

  “Look, don’t worry about the vows,” he said. “Why don’t we go find Julie?” He’d dragged her along long enough. With all the wedding guests walking around, they’d never find enough privacy for him to feel comfortable enough to talk.

  “We can do both at the same time.” She paused to pat his arms. “You look so stressed. Don’t worry! We’ll find the vows and Julie has gotta be somewhere around here.”

  In an attempt to brighten the mood, Renata trash talked about the local baseball team’s player injury list. “He’s a bum,” she blurted. The subject of her ire, a former ace on the pitching staff, had been on the disabled list for six weeks. “My grandma has a better ERA.”

  “Well, how many World Series has your grandmother pitched?”

  “Yeah, he pitched in the World Series, but he lost both the games he started and his ERA was above five.”

  “Your mother’s ERA is above five.”

  She scanned the floor. “The team also needs a stronger second baseman. The last three seasons he’s missed games with that ankle injury. A dude with a bum leg isn’t gonna help them win the pennant.”

  “There’s no way—”

  A chuckle erupted behind them. They turned to see a smiling elderly couple. They had to be at least eighty years old.

  “You two make such a cute couple,” the woman remarked. “How long have you been married?”

  “Can’t be for too long, honey,” the man said to his wife. “Nobody’s offended yet.”

  Max stuffed his hands in his pockets. He knew how the conversation would progress. He’d witnessed it before when he was with Renata.

  “Oh no—” Renata taking a small step away from him. “He’s just my best friend. We’ve been close for years.”

  This was where he was supposed to make a joke about their relationship and her quirky habits, maybe talk about how she liked M&M’s cookies without the M&M’s, but his mouth refused to move. He glanced at her, finding it hard not to think about what if.

  “You two talk like you’ve been married for a while,” the man said.

  “I agree. Your kids would be absolutely adorable!” his wife added.

  Renata snorted while Max tried to offer a dry laugh.

  “I know most of his secrets and he knows a few of mine. The juicy ones anyway.” Renata jabbed Max in the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll find a better friend anywhere.” She sighed. “I’ll probably be the maid of honor at his wedding.”

  Her final statement stabbed him in the gut.

  The women continued to gab about making guy-girl friendships work. From a side-glance he noticed the older man gave him a sympathetic look. He tapped Max on the shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Twenty-three years of ‘friendship’ before I made my move on my wife, buddy. Don’t wait as long as I did.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” the older man’s wife asked as she patted her husband’s arm.

  “I told him to make a run for it,” the older gentleman replied. “Pretty women like you two can’t be trusted.”

  They all laughed. If he’d had more time, Max would’ve considered asking the pair about their life story. He found it amazing to meet couples like his parents—still together and smiling after many years.

  “You two have fun,” the older man said.

  The two couples parted. Renata and Max continued their search for Julie through another room, gradually making their way toward the kitchen at the other end of the building.

  “How do you feel about this wedding with all this stuff going on?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Somewhat good. I’m hoping nothing else crazy happens. Like some relative who loses their damn mind while I’m officiating.”

  “I have some weirdo relatives, but nobody for you to worry about. But the groom’s side . . . I don’t know about that.” The breeze from an open window wafted into the room as she played with a strand of her hair. Her scent—lavender and enticing—played over him, settling into his groin. He wondered what she’d think if she actually peeked into his mind. Would she be shocked to know he liked her? And as so much more than a friend?

  After a check down a long corridor, they ventured into the kitchen’s storage area filled with stacks of glasses and plates. Staff darted around them as they raced toward a row of covered waste containers. Renata looked around the garbage cans while he headed into the kitchen.

  A lone staff member approached. “Can I help you?”

  “Have you seen the wedding planner?” Renata asked the man.

  “The last time I saw her she was going down to the wine cellar.”

  They headed for a doorway off the kitchen. Max enjoyed the warmth of her hand until she released his to grab her side.

  “Slow down a bit,” she said with a laugh. “My dress is held up with love and duct tape at this point.”

  From the kitchen they descended down a set of timber stairs. The temperature had cooled considerably. The noise from the kitchen quieted. Even more when they faced a door to what had to be the wine cellar. The space was clean, with a light earthy smell, but he didn’t mind—maybe if Julie wasn’t here he could find the right words to say to Renata.

  His heart began to beat faster as they reached the thick cellar door. He paused for a moment, hoping and praying he’d find an empty room. They’d be in and out real fast. He’d say his piece and get what he felt off his chest.

  While he opened the door, Renata touched his back so she could lean in to look, too. He ignored her warm palm and walked into the room. Briarwood staff had stacked glass holders, wine bottles, and boxes in the center of the room. Julie was nowhere to be found. Relief filled him.

  “I guess we should try somewhere else.” Renata frowned. A curtain of hair fell over her face. His hand came up to sweep the strands aside, but he checked himself with a cough.

  “Don’t worry! We’ve got plenty of time to find the wedding planner so we can fix your—what did you call it again?” He grinned mischievously, thinking of the way her dress fit her curves.

  “My wedding wardrobe malfunction.”

  “You have plenty of time to get that gap closed.”

  She took a step toward the door, but he didn’t follow.

  “You okay, Max?” She
headed for the door, each step pushing him hard to speak.

  Don’t throw this chance away, Houston. “Renata, there’s something I have to tell—”

  She grabbed the doorknob and turned, but the knob didn’t budge.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “The door is locked.” She got out of the way for him to try.

  Oh shit. He tried to open the door and failed. With a groan, he bumped his forehead against the cold wood. He couldn’t hear a single sound outside.

  Max cursed under his breath.

  “That’s never a good sign,” she said from behind him.

  Frustration built as he tried to open the door again. He wanted her alone, but not like this. “We’re locked in.”

  Chapter Two

  Renata shook the doorknob again. With her luck today, whatever fail-safe someone had used for the door—a rock—had been rolled away when they strolled inside. Lovely! She kicked the rock with disgust and then jammed her toe. Damn it!

  With only four hours to spare until the wedding, the maid of honor and the officiant were trapped in the basement. Behind a door thick enough to hold back a friggin’ nuclear blast.

  She knocked on the door a few times. “Can anybody hear me? There’s people locked inside!” She hit the door harder. “Hello? Help us please!”

  “Do you have your cell phone?” Max asked. “Mine says no service.”

  “Me, too.” The meager bar she had this morning was long gone. Somehow she held in the curse on the tip of her tongue.

  “Just calm down, somebody has to come,” Max said. “All the vintage liquor is stored here and there’s a wedding about to take place.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax. His words usually made her feel better. “So we don’t have any signal, but maybe this cellar has a land line,” she suggested.

  “Might as well check the place out.”

  She glanced around. They didn’t have much space in the rectangular room. The walls around them extended about ten feet in the air with square holes for bottles from waist-height to the ceiling. Renata reached out and brushed her fingers against the smooth, dark wood. Icy, too. The structure was just as cold as the air in the room.

  “I don’t see much of anything in here. Are all wine cellars this cold?” The thin shawl only provided so much warmth. Of course she’d get stuck here in a strapless dress.

  Ignoring her question, Max ran his hands along the wall opposite the door.

  “What are you doing?” She crossed the room to his side.

  “There’s a faint breeze coming through the gaps over here.”

  She pulled out a bottle of red wine and peered through the hole. There was nothing but darkness on the other side, but the gust of dry air was unmistakable.

  Max reached into an empty gap, and then, with a faint click, a door-sized section of the wall swung inward.

  “Oh, how neat.” She followed him into the next room. “I’ve always wanted to find a secret room.”

  With only the light from the room they came from, Renata followed him closely from behind

  Max stopped abruptly and she ran into his back with a hard thud to her nose. “Are you okay?” he asked with a chuckle.

  She backed away to give him some space. “A bumped nose is the least of my problems.” The room suddenly filled with light. He must’ve found the switch. This new place was circular with a thick wood table in the center and more shelving for liquor in custom slots. An overpowering scent of polished wood filled the air.

  She twisted around to see him on the other side of the room wearing an apologetic expression. “Today was supposed to be a good day. I’m sorry. I got you into this mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather be trapped down here with you than with a lot of other folks I know.” She flashed a smile instead of thinking about how terrible she looked. “Besides, it saves me from having relatives see me like this. I’d be horrified.” She gestured to her dress. “I’m a steaming hot mess right now.”

  A funny look passed over his face. “No you’re not. You look really . . .” He trailed off without finishing, turning away to search along the counter.

  She let her eyes follow his movements, but couldn’t see a phone or anything that might help them out of their predicament. Only a few boxes and such along the table and counters. “There’s no phone down here. We’re gonna have to try something else. There was a window in the first room—”

  “Good idea.” He left the room and she followed.

  The supposed exit wasn’t much of one. The window, a few feet above their heads, was rectangular, and appeared to be only big enough for Renata to stick her head through. Not much else. Not as promising as she first thought, and it looked a little bit dangerous besides. “I don’t think we should try.”

  “We don’t have many other ideas.”

  “What side of the building does that wall face?” she asked, because this part she knew he was good at.

  The engineer answered with a blink. “It faces the east. Toward the parking lot.”

  “Maybe somebody parking their car will hear us if we call out the window?”

  He shrugged in reply and then scratched the back of his head. “Push me up when you’re ready,” he said, with a wry expression that made her place her hands on her hips.

  “I think it’s safe to say you can hold my weight far longer than I can hold yours,” she said with a snort.

  “I don’t know . . .” He finally revealed his mischievous grin.

  “This isn’t the time to put on your I’m-a-judgmental-jerk T-shirt, Max.”

  “I’m just kidding.” He put his hands up in surrender. “So, umm, how do you want to do this?”

  “Cup your hands.” She slipped out of her heels. Thank goodness she didn’t put on pantyhose. They would’ve been ancient history after a stunt like this. She hoped and prayed he didn’t have to lift her too high to reach the window.

  “Your shawl might get snagged . . .”

  Her grip on the fabric tightened. Her face reddened, thinking of the gap in her gown. Had the dress stayed put?

  Max chuckled. “I promise not to look—unless you straight up flash me.”

  She shrugged off the shawl and placed it over his right shoulder. After their search through the parking lot and lodge, the safety pin had long given up and had disappeared. With no sentinel to hold it back, the stubborn zipper had crept down a bit, but not enough for her dress to start slipping down.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a sweet smile. “I’ve seen you a lot more jacked up than this.”

  “You’re really asking for it, Houston.” She reached out for the wall to support her ascent, and with a push from Max on her heels reached the window. Only to be greeted by nothing but the sight of flowers and rocks. She couldn’t see beyond the shrubbery to the parking lot, if it was even there.

  “What do you see?” Max wobbled a bit, then steadied himself.

  “Flowers are blocking the way.” She felt along the windowsill.

  “Does it open?” he asked.

  “I’m trying. Hey—” She slipped a bit in between his hands. “Don’t drop me!” He let go of the hold to brace her foot with one hand and leg with the other.

  “Sorry!” he grunted. “Can you balance okay on one foot?”

  “I’m doing fine. I’m pretending I’m a cheerleader.”

  He chuckled. “How’s that going for you?”

  “About as well as this morning.” Nothing along the edge so much as budged. She tapped on the window for good measure. The glass was too thick. Yelling wouldn’t do her any good.

  Although it might make her feel better.

  “Can anybody hear me?” She yelled and beat against the window, but not even a squirrel stopped by to mock her. “I give up.”

  He eased
her down, grabbing her hips when she tilted a bit in the wrong direction. She fell down hard, forced to grab his shoulders to keep herself from meeting the floor face-first. “Ugh! Whatever happened to graceful landings?”

  “They don’t exist.” His warm hands slid up to her waist, lingering briefly at the gap to touch her chilled skin. Her gaze caught his, but she looked away.

  “Yeah.” He quickly let go of her. “I agree.”

  When she backed up a step, he caught her wrist. “Wait.” Max brushed his fingers from her elbow to her wrist. The pleasant sensation formed goose bumps on her skin.

  “What?” Did she have a bug on her or something?

  “You’re cold.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  He handed her his jacket. “Just stop it and take it. I didn’t notice.”

  She smiled her thanks and accepted the garment. Not only was it warm from him, but it smelled like Max. His familiar spicy, yet faintly citrus, cologne made the coat all the more welcoming. A pleasant comfort.

  “So that idea was a dud.” She paced around the wineglass racks with her hands on her hips. “You’re the engineer, do something.”

  “Like build a bridge? I’m a materials engineer.”

  “I don’t know. I thought you guys knew how to do cool stuff. Like all you’d need is a toothpick, a paper clip, and a hot-glue gun to build something magnificent for our grand escape.”

  “I wish I did have a glue gun for somebody’s mouth.”

  She smirked at him. “Will anybody come looking for us? Maybe the wedding planner?”

  “I’d hope so. If she’s any good. Let’s hope Julie Winter is wondering where we are and she’ll come for us, right?”

  Chapter Three

  The wedding planner didn’t come for them.

  So they waited. Max had so many opportunities to say something, yet he hadn’t done it yet. It seemed far easier to focus on the problem at hand than discuss his feelings for her. Maybe he held back because he didn’t want to witness the aftermath. The words she’d say to turn him down. The hurt look on her face when she told him they were meant to be friends.