The Week Before the Wedding

by Beth Kendrick

  “But you make it through the first year, all the crises, and the shock.” Georgia shooed away an approaching stripper. “And then reality sets in. That’s when you do your true grieving.”

  “That’s where I am now,” Bev said. “I try to stay busy—I have my book club and my bridge group and my quilting circle and my church—but at the end of the day, I have to come home alone.”

  Georgia dabbed at her cheeks with a paper cocktail napkin. “To an empty house.”

  “Exactly.” Bev signaled to the shirtless bartender for another drink. “It’s just so lonely. Even when I turn on the TV, it’s just so empty. And I miss my Stephen.”

  “I miss my Cal.”

  They leaned in on each other, weeping.

  Summer and Emily looked at each other, then back at the older women.

  “Well,” Summer finally said, “your mom and Grant’s mom are finally bonding.”

  “Bev’s drinking alcohol,” Emily whispered. “And my mom’s not even looking at the half-naked men.”

  Melanie joined them, hiccupping and slurring just a little. “Everything okay?”

  Summer jerked her thumb toward the table for two. “Her mom and your mom are about to go out to the parking lot and pour one out for their fallen homies.”

  Bev was on a roll. “…and then you look at other men and think, ‘How could any of them possibly compete? I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life.’”

  This jolted Georgia out of her teary-eyed reverie. “Let’s not get carried away. Not every man is going to be your soul mate, but there’s no reason to rule them out altogether. You know what they say: ‘The best way to get over a man is to get under another man.’”

  “Oh, I could never.” Bev waved both hands. “Stephen will always be my one and only. He was my first date, my first kiss—”

  “You’ve only kissed one man? Ever?” Georgia put down her drink. “Beverly Cardin, time’s a-wasting! You need to get out there. Right now. I’m going to help you.”

  “That’s sweet of you to offer, but really, I’m not ready.”

  “Oh, it’s not an offer; it’s an order. You!” Georgia snapped her fingers at a brawny young hunk. “What’s your name? Thor? Thor, this is my friend Bev. I want you to show her a good time.” Georgia opened her wallet and pulled out a fistful of cash.

  Emily stepped in before the money could change hands. “Hey! Mom! Time to go!”

  “So soon?” Bev asked.

  “We’re just getting started,” Georgia protested. “Bev here has a lot of living to do.”

  “Sorry.” Melanie helped Bev to her feet. “Limo’s leaving.”

  “That’s all right!” Georgia said. “We’ll take a cab. Or better yet, one of these gentlemen will give us a lift home.”

  Summer shook her head. “Do not make me give you the ‘taking rides from strangers’ lecture tonight. Move it, ladies. Hup two.”

  “These heels are ridiculous. My feet are killing me.” Georgia held up her sandals, which she’d already taken off. “Give us ten more minutes and an Advil?”

  “Right. Now.”

  Heaving loud, put-upon sighs, the mothers complied.

  “Here’s to best friends in the making.” Summer whispered to Emily, “Score another win for Ryan Lassiter.”

  “This has nothing to do with Ryan,” Emily replied. “It has to do with the fact that my mother is a terrible influence.”

  “A cautionary tale, would you say?”

  “You can ride in the trunk on the way home.”

  “As long as you give me a bottle of Dom and a straw, I’m happy.”

  By the time the limo pulled up to the front entrance of the Lodge, half the bridal party members had lost their voices from laughing and singing Tina Turner’s “Private Dancer.”

  Over and over and over.

  Bev, whom Emily had never once heard raise her voice, belted it out the loudest. She wasn’t a demure, levelheaded mother and grandmother and widow at the moment.

  But she was happy.

  Ryan was waiting at the front steps to help the chauffeur unload the passengers, most of whom had followed Georgia’s lead and taken off their shoes.

  “We’re outta booze,” Summer announced as she spilled out of the car.

  “So you had a good time, then?” Ryan replied.

  Summer glanced at Caroline and both of them burst out laughing.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He put one arm around Georgia, one arm around Bev, and hauled them bodily up the stairs.

  “Ryan! Such a gentleman!” Bev gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Speaking of gentlemen, wait till you hear what we did tonight. Georgia and I met a dashing young man named Sven, and he—”

  “Discretion, please,” Georgia trilled. “A lady never kisses and tells.”

  Rose sniffed. “Don’t talk to us about what a lady would or wouldn’t do.”

  Darlene chimed in with, “We tried to stop them. But you can’t stop someone who has no shame.”

  “Good night.” Ryan handed them off to the concierge, who was staring at Bev with a mixture of amusement and astonishment. “See you at breakfast.”

  “We’ll be sleeping in.” Georgia flung herself into the concierge’s arms. “Brad, darling! How are you? Care to indulge in a nightcap?”

  “Great idea!” Summer exclaimed.

  Caroline and the others whooped in agreement, and they trooped inside, chattering and laughing and blowing kisses at Ryan as they went.

  “Emily!” Melanie called as she held the door. “You have the best ex-husband ever!”

  Emily waved until the door closed behind them, leaving her and Ryan alone in the dark. The only sounds were the crickets and the steady lapping of lake water on the shore.

  She couldn’t see his face beneath the shadow of the pines, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re back.”

  “Yes.”

  “You all had fun.”

  “Some of us more than others.”

  “You had champagne.”

  “Half a glass.” She tilted her head. “How can you tell?”

  He didn’t answer her, just waited her out until she took off her heavy drop earrings and admitted, “It was the perfect bachelorette party. You accomplished the impossible. You made me break all my rules. My mom and Grant’s mom actually bonded. Happy?”

  “Not yet.”

  She threw up her hands, even though he hadn’t taken a step toward her. “We had a nice night. Let’s leave it at that and not ruin it, with…you know.”

  He let her words linger between them. “I do know.”

  A glint of silver caught her eye in the moonlight. The thick, tarnished skull ring on his left hand. When he noticed her looking at it, he tucked his hand into his pocket.

  “Why do you still have it?” She knew he knew she was referring to the tattoo. “I thought for sure you’d have it removed by any means necessary.”

  “I tried.” For once, he wasn’t looking at her. “I went to the laser clinic three times. The first time I made it to the waiting room; the next time I made it to the exam room. But in the end, I just couldn’t do it.” He laughed softly. “And it made me even more pissed at you.”

  “Well, that was always our specialty. Driving each other crazy. That’s why I left, Ryan.”

  He shook his head. “You left because you thought I wasn’t good enough for you. And all those years in California, I kept thinking that one day, I’d track you down. I’d track you down and show you who I was, what I’d done. But then I saw Summer on the flight to New York and I knew I had to make my move. Now or never.”

  Emily’s heart ached at the pain and reproach she heard in his voice. “I didn’t leave because you weren’t good enough.”

  “Then why?”

  “We just…” She tried to explain, as much to herself as to him. “It wasn’t the right time. We were so young, so intense about everything. We weren’t ready.”

  “And now?”

  “N
ow it’s the week before my wedding.”

  A cold wind blew off the lake, making her shiver. Then everything went still except the sound of a car passing in the distance.

  “If this were one of your movies,” she said, “this would be the moment when the crazed ax murder runs out of the woods to dismember us both.”

  There was a spurting sound behind her. The lawn sprinklers gurgled to life, drenching them both in a shower of icy water.

  She shrieked and turned to run back to the hotel, but Ryan ran forward, caught her hand in his, and charged directly into the spray.

  “What are you doing?” As the water surrounded her, she felt her senses sharpening. Her heart pounding in her chest, her skin soaking up the shower, her sandals sliding through the newly slick lawn. “We’re going to get soaked.”

  “We’re already soaked.”

  Emily’s hair was plastered against her cheeks and her delicate high heels sank into the ground. “Hang on.” She clutched his arm with one hand, reached down with the other, and pulled off her shoes. Barefoot and dripping, she had the sudden urge to throw out her arms and spin like a child.

  So she did. She made one complete revolution before her feet slipped out from under her. As she caught herself with her palms, the hem of her new silk dress got caught between her knees and the mud.

  Emily started laughing and sat down, ruining the back of her skirt as well. She laughed until her chest ached and tears mingled with the sprinkler water.

  Ryan watched her, shaking his head. “How much champagne did you drink?”

  “I told you, half a glass,” she said. “I’m not drunk. I’m just…I’m just…” She couldn’t stop laughing. She couldn’t stop crying.

  The sprinklers shut off as abruptly as they’d turned on, and in the lull that followed, Emily could hear how hysterical she sounded.

  She felt giddy and terrified and free and alive. For the first time in recent memory, she couldn’t pry apart her heart and her mind.

  “On your feet.” Ryan grabbed her elbows and pulled her up. “I know what you need.”

  He steered her toward the lake, which reflected the huge white moon in its silver ripples.

  “Where are we going?”

  “In.” He paused on the beach long enough to shuck off his shoes and socks.

  She dropped her sandals next to his sneakers, wiggling her toes as the grit of the sand coated the blades of grass on her feet.

  “I am not skinny-dipping with you,” she warned.

  “No one asked you to take your clothes off.”

  Oh.

  Good.

  “This is crazy.” She hesitated by the waterline. “We’re not in high school.”

  “We’re not dead yet, either.” He plowed into the lake, yanking his shirt over his head as he went.

  She waded after him, trying to focus her gaze on the stars, the sky—anything except the bare skin of his shoulders and chest.

  When the water came halfway up her calves, she stopped, cinching her skirt hem around her knees.

  Ryan splashed ahead and didn’t look back. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I don’t know.” She peered down at the dark water. The farther in she went, the less she could see. But she took another step forward. The bottom of her foot brushed against something slimy, and she shuddered. “There better not be leeches in here.”

  “I doubt there are any leeches. But that reminds me of a shoot I was on in North Carolina. We were setting up for a scene right by this pond that was famous for having these giant, swimming snakes—”

  “I forbid you to tell the rest of this story.”

  He stopped talking and so did she, and instinctively, as the water submerged her thighs and waist and chest, she moved closer to him.

  She couldn’t decide what posed the greatest threat to her right now—bloodthirsty leeches, swimming snakes, or a very charming, persistent ex-husband.

  “Okay.” Ryan stopped just as the water lapped against her shoulders.

  Emily looked around. “Now what?”

  “Now, we peace out.” He inhaled slowly and let his body relax until he was floating under that huge white moon.

  She frowned. “That’s it?”

  “Try it,” he commanded. So she did. She let her muscles slacken, one by one, until she sank in up to her chin and the natural forces of her body took over, keeping her afloat under the stars.

  In the back of her mind, she registered the thought that the water was cold and she’d probably catch pneumonia and it would be a shame to be sick on her wedding day and blah blah blah. But then a sense of tranquility seeped into her soul.

  She wished she could stay here forever, suspended between earth and sky. Between single life and marriage.

  Between Ryan and Grant.

  But if Grant was an anchor, Ryan was a buoy, and she couldn’t have both. She couldn’t bob on the surface and still be tethered to the sand.

  A sharp tug on her scalp jerked Emily out of her little moment of Zen.

  “Ow!” She struggled to regain her footing, but she couldn’t lift the back of her head out of the water. Her curls had gotten tangled in a length of rope that marked off the hotel’s swimming area. Every time she tried to stand up, her hair yanked her back down.

  “A little help, please,” she called to Ryan, who immediately started swimming her way.

  He stood up and took stock of the situation. “Wow. You’re really roped in like a filly outside a saloon.”

  “Thank you for the colorful analogy. Can you please get me out of this?”

  “In a second.” He studied her face but made no move to free her.

  “What? Are we going to have to cut my hair?” she asked. “Again? Summer just chopped it this morning.”

  “No, I can get it.”

  “Well, then?” She flailed her arms. “Go ahead.”

  “I want you to answer one question for me first.”

  “Are you serious? You’re going to make me do a Q and A while I’m trapped and about to drown?”

  “We’re in five feet of water,” he pointed out. “And I prefer to think of it as a friendly exchange of information.”

  “Screw that.” She redoubled her efforts to free herself, but since she couldn’t see what she was doing, the tangle got even tighter and her hair started to rip. “Ow.”

  “I am going to help you,” he said, his tone both soothing and amused. “Right after you help me.”

  “This is why we didn’t work, you know. Marriage is not some business deal with wheeling and dealing and constantly getting to yes.”

  “Sure it is,” he replied. “It’s a legal contract.”

  “Not the love part. Love is selfless and generous and…and…not subject to terms and conditions.”

  “Duly noted.” He stood there and waited her out.

  “Fine.” She set her jaw and glared up at the stars. “What’s your question?”

  “What do you see in Grant?”

  She struggled so hard she almost tore out a chunk of her scalp. But this bought her some time to consider her answer.

  “I’ll tell you what I see in him: everything. He’s sweet and smart and strong and honorable. He’s loving and thoughtful and sentimental and romantic. He’s handsome and dashing and chivalrous and—”

  Ryan interrupted with an eye roll. “You’re engaged to a guy, right, not a thesaurus?”

  “He saves lives, Ryan. And he saved me.”

  “From what?” he challenged.

  From myself, she wanted to reply, but stopped herself in time. “From making another mistake. From spending my life with the wrong man.”

  Finally, she’d found a chink in his cool, casual façade. His expression flickered for a split second before he followed up with, “What did you see in me?”

  “You said one question.”

  “It’s one question with two parts.” His smile, usually so bright and carefree, had darkened. “What did you see in me?”

 
; “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “With us, it wasn’t about seeing anything. It was just about feeling. Fitting together.”

  “We did fit together very well.”

  She ignored the sexual undertone and steered the conversation back to safer territory. “When I was twenty-two, I didn’t have a checklist for potential partners.”

  “And now you do?”

  “Of course. I made a spreadsheet in Excel. For real.”

  “So you have a lot of rules.” He reached over and started to untangle her.

  She closed her eyes as his fingers sifted through her hair. The sides of his hands brushed against her cheek as he worked. Then, when she was free, he backed away from her and announced, “I have rules, too, you know.”

  She stood up, wrung out her hair, and smiled. “Rules for wrangling all your models and actresses?”

  “Oh yeah. You have to. Hollywood’s very big on dating rules. Haven’t you ever seen Swingers?”

  “Okay, so what are the rules?”

  “You’re supposed to keep communication at a two-to-one ratio.”

  She blinked. “I’m not following.”

  “If I text a woman, she has to text me back twice before I’ll text her again,” Ryan explained. “If I call her twice, she has to call me four times before I call again. If I—”

  “That’s appalling.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t hate the player; hate the game.”

  “It’s so adversarial. It’s psychological torture.” She knew he was teasing her, but she still felt outraged. “If some guy tried that crap with me, I’d dump him.”

  “I would never try that crap with you.”

  “I cannot believe you have a dating ratio. The Ryan Lassiter I knew would never have a dating ratio.” Of course, the Emily McKellips he knew slept with hot men on the first date. Within the first fifteen minutes of meeting them.

  “Yeah, well, after my wife walked out on me, a lot of things changed.” His voice roughened. “But other things never did. And let me ask you something: If Grant’s so great, where the hell is he?”

  “He’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Emily sounded more than a little defensive. “He’s giving one of his patients a new set of lungs. It’s literally a life-or-death situation.”