The Wedding Must Go On

by Robyn Grady

  ‘Actually, I’m working up a sweat choosing shoes.’

  ‘Shoes?’

  ‘For the wedding. If there’s ever an occasion a woman needs a new pair of shoes, her own wedding must be it.’

  She laughed, a light breezy sound. But her smile faded when only silence greeted her on the other end of the line. A slither of unease snaked up her spine.

  ‘Nate? You there?’

  ‘Roxy, I can’t make it Saturday.’

  She tried to decipher the statement. ‘You’d rather we did it Friday?’

  ‘What I mean is we need to find someone else to stand in. I’ll be truthful. I can’t do it. I know it won’t be a real wedding, but I can’t help thinking that if I watch you walk down any aisle in that dress and I say I do, that’ll be it.’

  ‘It?’

  ‘My most important patent didn’t go through. Greg kindly let me know I could work for him at his father’s firm. Nice offer. I only have to put my tail between my legs and forget everything I’ve struggled to achieve thus far.’

  Her lips felt like two loose rubber bands. She could barely get them to move. ‘And going through with this ceremony—the one you suggested in the first place—would seal your fate?’

  ‘I have someone else lined up. A great bloke I work with.’

  She felt like crying. Dying. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. She’d thought he’d changed. But he’d manipulated her again. Straight-out lied.

  She ground out, ‘How much did you pay him?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. I just want to make sure this is all taken care of.’

  Taken care of. Swept aside. Dismissed.

  Last night she’d given herself to him as she never had before. Not only bodily, but with all her heart. All her soul. At one stage, as they’d lain among the moonbeams filtering in through her bedroom window, he’d kissed a loving line down one side of her neck, her shoulder, right down that arm finishing with the tip of each finger. She’d been overcome by the swell of emotion—a powerful awareness she couldn’t deny. In real time they hadn’t known each other long, but in a way that mattered more she’d known him all her life.

  He made her feel happy. Whole. He made her feel love like she hadn’t believed in. As his lips had grazed hers very early this morning and he’d gently closed the door she’d felt certain about them. She might as well admit it.

  She’d fallen in love. And a tiny hopeful part of her had whispered that he might just have fallen in love with her too.

  Again and again she’d told herself this wedding wasn’t the real deal and yet, the way he’d spoken and behaved last night, she’d thought deep down that maybe Nate wanted it to be. And now he was telling her she needed a replacement?

  She wanted to argue. Slap his face. Of course she knew this make-believe marriage was only a means to an end, a way to keep her gown in that contest and her hopes to keep her salon alive. But as the silence stretched and she felt Nate’s determination—his fear—the need to object, defend, persuade, disappeared.

  Hadn’t she told herself one day she’d pay a price? She’d fallen for a man who had vowed never to fall under a woman’s spell. No, she wouldn’t argue with him. Even feeling as if her insides were being torn out, she wished him well.

  As long as he never dared try to see her again. If he did, she swore she’d tear him apart.

  But she didn’t want to say goodbye looking vulnerable or needy. Because she wasn’t. In fact, this episode had made her a thousand times stronger.

  ‘Actually I’ve had second thoughts too,’ she told him, her tone as sincere as she could manage. ‘I know rules are rules but when all the other contestants’ gowns will be part of a genuine ceremony, where a couple who are committed beyond all else pledge to be there for ever for one another no matter what, I’d feel like a cheat.’ And the slam-dunk. ‘Guess dishonesty really isn’t my deal.’

  Another long silence. But she wasn’t about to play that game either, batting the ball back and forth, telling herself if she could keep it in the air long enough she just might win.

  As a jet of emotion threatened to erupt her grip tightened on the phone and she forced out the words.

  ‘Goodbye, Nate.’

  ‘Roxy, wait. Maybe we should have a drink. Talk about alternatives.’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘I was only trying to be honest with you.’

  She set her jaw, took a breath, cursed her feelings.

  And cut the line.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘I DON’T know why you don’t get rid of this clapped-out bucket of rust.’

  Standing in his parents’ four-car garage, Nate leaned against a pristine workbench and told himself to count to ten. He loved his dad, but, Lord above, the man infuriated him. With the money they’d inherited, he could afford a Porsche and, to be fair, his parents did drive a very nice locally made sedan. But his father insisted on keeping this relic from the past. A bomb. He never drove it, just tinkered as he did now, hunched over the engine, checking and pulling at bits. A waste of time.

  Lewis Sparks raised his head from under the hood. ‘Rust bucket? This body’s as perfect as the day it came off the line. Besides, it was my first car. We’ve had some good times together.’

  Nate wanted to block his ears. ‘I’ve heard the story about the night Grandad caught you necking and banned Mum from seeing you again.’

  Through that neat silver beard, his father’s grin appeared. ‘She sneaked out late at night. We dabbled with the idea of eloping.’

  ‘I don’t want to hold you up. I just need that number.’ He’d already explained ten minutes ago when he’d first arrived. He wanted the number of the patent lawyer his father occasionally enjoyed eighteen holes with.

  ‘You’re having trouble with your idea?’

  ‘I’d rather not go into it.’

  His father found a rag, wiped his hands thoroughly, then changed the subject. ‘Your mother and I liked your date the other night.’

  Pushing off the dusty workbench, Nate held up his hands. ‘Before you ask when you’ll see her again, she and I have called it quits.’

  ‘Oh.’ His father nodded slowly. ‘I see. Your mother and I—’

  ‘Dad. Sorry. I really don’t have time.’

  ‘Sure. Fine.’ His father stuck his head back down near the bomb’s engine. ‘I’ll get Roger’s number after I check this battery.’

  ‘I thought you put a new battery in last month.’

  ‘One of the cells was flaky. One flaky cell and the whole caboose is let down. It’s not pretty like a flash paint-job or a shiny set of rims, but a good battery’s what keeps a car going strong.’

  He fiddled with cables, then straightened and rubbed smudged grease off his hands on that rag again; Nate recognized it as a shirt from twenty years ago.

  ‘Mind turning her over, son?’

  Grabbing the time on his watch, Nate suppressed a growl. He’d wanted to dash in and out. He’d have got the number over the phone if someone had answered when he’d called. Apparently his mother was out visiting one of the girls. His dad, as usual, had been tucked away in this sanctuary where he kept his toys—this beat-up old Holden and a tin boat he’d had since his youth.

  Nate threw open the driver’s side door. He would start the car, then they could go inside, get that number and he’d see what could be done about getting another hearing for his patent. He’d already poured a river of money into fees. This was not a little matter.

  Dammit, he would not roll over now.

  Pressed into the smelly vinyl seat, he rotated the key and the V8 roared to life. His father lowered the hood, which snapped into its catch with a crashing boom.

  ‘I’d rather have a dozen of these than one European sports car with a dodgy engine.’

  ‘I have a European sports car, Dad, and the engine runs just fine.’

  His father thought that over and tossed the rag aside.

  ‘Guess I’m just easy to pl
ease.’ The older man’s attention shifted, as did Nate’s. They both peered out as a car drove up. His mother’s. But another car followed and another.

  ‘Hey, your sisters and kids are pulling up too. I’d better warm up the barbie.’ His dad started out and hooked an arm. ‘Come say hello.’

  Nate was about to say again he was rushed. But his father looked so happy to have the family together … Nate mustered a smile and said he’d be out in a minute.

  Nate watched as everybody hugged. Didn’t matter if they’d seen each other three months ago or yesterday. No one escaped a python squeeze from Mum. Dad must have mentioned his eldest was in the garage. All the women looked his way and various gestures and pleadings called him out. But Nate shook his head, his hands. He wasn’t ready yet.

  So he sat in that smelly old car watching his family meander up the path, into the house, and as they disappeared through the back door Nate found himself wondering …

  Why am I so different?

  They always seemed so content. So easily pleased. But he was enquiring. Restless. A weak link.

  The flaky cell.

  He’d told Roxy he was nothing like her father and yet he’d ignored her feelings, lied to her, let her down.

  For as long as Nate could remember, he’d been drawn by the notion of finding his own way, and yet, sitting out here all alone, he’d never felt so lost.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘I WAS told I’d find you here.’

  Every fibre in Roxy’s body locked and then trembled as that deep sexy voice rumbled down at her.

  The day was grey and cold, but she’d needed to get outside and hopefully be productive while she was at it. Rugged up in a red trench coat, she’d found a place in a nearby park to spread out a light blanket and play around with a few sketches for some new dress ideas.

  Now she set her pencil aside and, swallowing a calming breath, forced herself to peer up.

  Standing with his hands thrust deep into their overcoat pockets, Nate Sparks towered over her. A lock of dark hair fallen on his forehead bobbed with the breeze. His gaze was piercing, holding hers with an intensity that made her quiver. In that moment, it all came rushing back … the way they’d splashed around and made love in that creek. How they’d happily gone without sleep to spend every available minute pleasuring one another in that big soft bed in the bush.

  Now, when he moved closer, she instinctively felt her heart lift and reach out to him. But she didn’t jump up and into his arms, although, God help her, she wanted to.

  ‘There’s a lot happening at your shop today.’

  She kept her voice even, her reply short. ‘It was time for a big sale.’

  His brow pinched. ‘How much are you getting rid of?’

  ‘As much as people want to buy.’

  ‘Your cousin seemed to be holding down the fort well enough.’

  ‘I have complete faith.’

  Clearly she needed to resize, regroup and, hopefully, start building again. But she didn’t have the heart to be there, watching the gowns she’d spent so much time and loving effort on sailing out of the door for a song.

  He nudged his chin at the sketchpad. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Getting inspired.’

  ‘For new gowns.’

  ‘A new life.’

  Digesting her words, he nodded slowly, then thought for a long moment before speaking again.

  ‘I want to apologize.’

  Her heart jumped but she kept her mask cool. ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘I let you down.’

  ‘Yeah. Well.’ She shrugged. ‘Nothing I haven’t coped with before.’

  ‘I’m not like your father.’

  ‘You’re certainly not like yours,’ she bit back. ‘You don’t know the meaning of the word integrity.’

  She was glad he’d called that day and put an end to it all.

  ‘I know I hurt you,’ he said. ‘I hurt myself too.’

  ‘Let me dig out a tissue.’

  ‘There’s still time for that wedding … if you haven’t found a replacement.’

  Collecting her pencil again, she sketched a few lines. ‘I’m over the contest. I did my best. Time to move on.’ Speaking of which …

  Grabbing her bag, pad under one arm, she pushed to her feet and, fighting a cold wind, headed for the car park.

  His voice boomed over her head. ‘I’m not ready for this to end.’

  Anger and hurt clogging her throat, blurring her vision, she called back, ‘Too bad.’

  The determination in his voice hit her again.

  ‘Dammit, Roxy, I love you.’

  Her blood stopped pumping as every kind of emotion funnelled through her centre and then jetted up to fill her face with scorching heat. Her head was swimming, her world tilting. He loved her. She hadn’t expected that. Not for one moment.

  Needing something to hold onto, she angled carefully around. She swallowed but her words still came out a hoarse whisper.

  ‘I mustn’t have heard right.’

  ‘I’ll say it again. I love you, in a way I never thought possible—’ he gave a weak lopsided smile ‘—even with parents like mine.’

  She wanted to ask if he was teasing her. After his previous stand, whether he truly meant it. But then she remembered her father declaring his love and her mother’s replies … ‘Do you, Tom? Do you really?’ … and the merry-go-round would start turning again. Even as a girl with no experience, Roxy had thought her mother a fool. She’d vowed never to sound that desperate. Be that gullible.

  His brows knitting, Nate stepped closer. ‘You don’t believe me.’

  Her voice, and heart, broke. ‘Doesn’t matter if I believe you or not. Nothing in this world could convince me to get tangled up with you again. So, please—please—just leave me alone.’

  When she turned again, telling herself to keep walking no matter what, he overtook her and blocked her path. She wasn’t about to rant and try to push her way around him. Instead she stood calmly, pinning him with her best death glare even while her very soul begged her to crumple and surrender.

  He drew something out of his overcoat pocket. Roxy glanced down. Between his fingers, he held a fine silk thread.

  ‘Could you hold this?’

  As his strong tanned hand came forward, her mouth tightened. ‘I won’t play your games—’

  ‘Roxy, just do this one thing.’

  With those gorgeous blue eyes glittering over at her, Roxy remained firm for another five full seconds. Then she huffed out a breath, rearranged her sketchpad and held the damn thread.

  From his other pocket Nate retrieved something else. A heartbeat later a shining ring slid down the line and into the palm of her hand. Her eyes wide, she swallowed a gasp and automatically brought the surprise near. It was an engagement ring … a solitaire, clear and bright.

  She imagined how it might look on her hand. How her gaze might drift to that finger time and again to make sure it was real and as beautiful as she thought. She thought of how her friends would swoon over the diamond, then envisaged the matching gold band that would slip on in front. Nate stepped into the space separating them and his arms went out to bring her near.

  But before he could press her close, she remembered how gutted she’d felt when he’d dumped her cold, and how many apologies she’d heard in her life. A marriage proposal wasn’t a cure-all. In fact, given everything he knew about her, it was an insult. Stronger, she dropped the ring back in his pocket and, breaking inside, braced her shoulders and walked away.

  She wished he could mend the wound, make her feel differently, but there simply weren’t enough words; there was nothing he could do.

  Her pace picking up, she saw her sedan appear through her blur of tears at the same time a familiar sound vibrated through the air. She stopped, turned and, sure enough, a horse was nodding its head, pawing the grass. But not just any horse. She was pure white, even the saddle and bridle and reins. But that wasn’t all. Walking up to
meet it was another horse, black and large, his glossy mane flying in the wind. For a flash of a second Roxy forgot how much her chest was aching. The sight of those beautiful animals brought back so many memories … of her and Nate cantering over Outback planes … of her pony-club days, before she’d become interested in fashion and had only ever wanted her very own horse.

  She soaked up the sight for as long as she dared—she didn’t want Nate to think she was hanging back waiting for him—but before she had time to hitch up her sketchpad and carry on to the car, something else unusual caught her eye. A well-dressed lady carrying an opened gold-leaf book was walking up to the horses. If this had been any other day, any other time, she’d have stopped to see what happened next.

  Of course the first thing to cross her mind was a wedding. A romantic unique ceremony on horseback with that lady, dressed in a pale pink suit, overseeing the exchange of vows. But they were missing the guests and, more particularly, a bride and groom. Perhaps it was a photo shoot or publicity stunt or—

  The notion popped in her brain, like a balloon bursting, but as soon as it appeared she shunted the idea aside. She was being ridiculous. That scene had nothing to do with her, with Nate’s proposal, or that amazing diamond-and-gold ring.

  When a man in a morning suit appeared, collected the horses’ reins and began to lead them over, Roxy felt the edge of reality shift and everything but those horses and the memory of Nate’s declaration of love faded into the background. But she couldn’t believe this was happening. She didn’t want to accept that Nate had set this all up. This all might be a coincidence and he’d already left and she was just standing here looking like.

  Looking like a fool.

  Shoring herself up, she swallowed down ever-rising emotion and prepared to continue on to the car. But a light grip on her arm held her back, and in an instant her entire body turned cold then inexplicably hot. Fighting the giddy spin, she let herself be angled around, then looked up and into Nate’s loving eyes.

  ‘The white mare is yours,’ he said.

  Her voice trembled and tears welled. ‘Mine.?’