The Goodbye Bride

by Denise Hunter

  “Pediatrician,” Eden said. “I took Micah to see him for his annual checkup. He’s great with kids.”

  Wasn’t it about time for the fireworks? Zac took a big gulp of his soda.

  “What do you think, Beau?” Eden asked. “You know him better than I do.”

  “He’s a nice enough guy. He was a couple years behind me in school, so I don’t know him well. He’s smart. Paige had nothing bad to say about him.”

  “Did they go out for long?” Lucy asked.

  No doubt she didn’t want to step on Paige’s toes. Zac squirmed in his seat.

  “Only two or three times,” Miss Trudy said, no doubt happy for Lucy to be interested in anyone other than him. “They fit better as friends, she said. But I can see the two of you hitting it off.”

  Zac bit his tongue. He had no dog in this hunt. They’d been over a long time. He wanted her to move on.

  Then why does your stomach feel like it’s on a wooden roller coaster?

  “I can too,” Eden said. “He’s kind of quiet and unassuming, but in a reflective way, not to mention he’s not exactly hard on the eyes.”

  Zac’s mind formed an image of Nick and Lucy together with their matching brown hair and kilowatt smiles. The man in the image slipped his arms around Lucy and pulled her close until their bodies came together.

  Zac smacked a mosquito on his arm. The sound carried across the patio.

  “That settles it then,” Eden said. “I’ll introduce you at church.”

  Swell. He could hardly wait.

  Chapter 19

  Zac ducked into his office, a niggle of guilt worming through him. He’d been helping a new kid bus tables when Morgan had arrived with a girlfriend in a cloud of perfume. He’d given her a polite nod and a smile and pretended—yes, pretended—he was too busy to stop and say hello. But it was a Tuesday night, and the restaurant was half empty. Who was he kidding?

  Ever since their date Friday at the Oyster Bistro, he’d known this was coming. He had to tell her it wasn’t working. All he could think of as he sat across from her at the candlelit table was Lucy. It felt like he was sullying the memory of their first date.

  The conversation had flowed so easily that night. The more things he’d learned about her, the more he’d wanted to know. Her charming drawl and spirited inflections . . . he could’ve listened to her talk all night.

  Their time at the harbor lingered in his mind as well. That scoop of ice cream falling into his lap. Her face cloaked in dismay. The dab of ice cream dotting the tip of her nose.

  The kiss. Making him fall more deeply than he’d ever fallen.

  He paced his office, filled with too much energy to sit. He had a perfectly nice, attractive woman interested in him. She was attentive and fun. She could hold an intelligent conversation about local politics and business management. He hadn’t even had to stoop down the one time he’d kissed her.

  So why did he find himself missing the way Lucy used to look up at him with those big blue eyes? The way she fit snugly into his chest when he held her? The way he could rest his chin on the top of her head?

  He laced his fingers behind his neck. What was wrong with him? She was driving him crazy, that was what. And he was hiding in his office like a little girl.

  Butch up, Callahan.

  He left his office and turned down the hall, the barely there noise of the weeknight filtering down the hall. Rain pattered quietly on the roof, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

  A familiar voice caught his ears as he neared the doorway to the restaurant. A Southern drawl. But it wasn’t Lucy’s voice. He slowed his steps at the mouth of the hallway, listening.

  “Well, I see how y’all might be confused,” Morgan was saying in an exaggerated Southern accent. “But I said I wanted a Dr Pepper, and this is clearly not Dr Pepper.”

  “And this lemonade doesn’t have enough ice,” another voice said. “Really, is there a shortage or something?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Lucy said in a tight voice.

  A moment of silence passed, but Zac waited.

  “She’s such a dimwit,” Morgan said.

  Zac’s muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing on the sliver of booth he could see from his vantage point.

  “I don’t know what he ever saw in her. You’re so much prettier.”

  “And she’s so short. I mean she’s practically a midget.”

  Their tinkling laughs ran right up his spine.

  “I’ll bet she’s faking all that amnesia stuff,” Morgan said. Her voice went Southern again. “‘Oh, Zac, I’m so helpless and needy. Please rescue me so I can have purpose and meaning in my lahf again!’ ”

  He ground his teeth together, forcing himself to wait. Heat crawled up the back of his neck and settled there.

  “I can’t believe he’s letting her stay here,” the friend said. “And work here. We’ve got to do something.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that. Pretty soon she’s going to have her hands so full, he’ll be plenty eager to see the back of her fat behind.”

  “What do you have up your sleeve, Morgan LeBlanc?”

  A moment of quiet ensued, and Zac heard the quiet thunk of drinks being set down.

  “It’s about tahm,” Morgan said.

  “Did you actually get it right for once?” the friend asked.

  The heat behind his neck had spread down his limbs and out his pores. He’d heard enough. He slipped around the corner, adjusting his face into a pleasant mask.

  “Everything okay, ladies?” His gaze drifted between them. Lucy’s face was drawn, her eyes tight with emotion.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” Morgan said. “Lucy just made a teensy mistake, but it’s all good.”

  “Oh, terrific. Glad she’s taking care of you.” He looked innocently at Morgan. “So you don’t think she’s a dimwit after all?”

  He watched with morbid pleasure as the blood drained from her face. The smile faltered on her red lips, and her eyes darted to her friend’s.

  He felt the weight of Lucy’s gaze but continued staring at Morgan as if expecting an answer.

  “I—Zac . . .” She chuckled. “We were only kidding.”

  “Like you were kidding about ordering the Dr Pepper?”

  A bright flush that had nothing to do with makeup flooded into her cheeks. “I don’t know what—”

  “I think both of you need to leave.”

  Morgan settled a hand over her heart, a look of innocent shock coming over her features. “What?”

  “Patrons who don’t respect my employees aren’t welcome.” He nailed Morgan with a look. “Leave.”

  An awkward pause ensued before Morgan drew herself up straight and extricated herself from the booth, her friend following suit.

  Morgan turned to him with a lift to her chin, but her heightened color ruined the effect. Zac stared into her brittle green eyes, wondering how he’d ever thought her pretty.

  “You just made a terrible miscalculation,” she said.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Let’s go, Morgan,” her friend said.

  Morgan’s perfect nose flared, then she turned and left in a wake of cloying perfume.

  Lucy’s lips were parted as her eyes swung to him. “Thank you.” She sounded a little dumbfounded.

  He opened his mouth, so many things on the tip of his tongue. He held them all back, merely gave her a smile and touched her on the arm as he passed. He would’ve done the same for any employee.

  Keep telling yourself that, Callahan.

  Lucy pulled the tips from her apron pocket, straightening the bills. Thirty-eight dollars. It had been a long, slow night. The rain pounding the roof overhead made her drowsy, and she fought a yawn as she headed to the bathroom to wash up.

  Her feet ached and her back screamed, but as she washed her face, she smiled, remembering the way Zac had stood up for her.

  Oh, how she wished she had it on tape so she could watch the color drain from Morgan’s fac
e again and again. And the look on her face when Zac kicked her out—priceless.

  Good riddance. Lucy wouldn’t be seeing her around here anymore. The thought lifted her lips even more.

  Just as quickly, her smile faltered. She wouldn’t be here to see Morgan anyway. Zac had caught her in the kitchen just before closing to say that Marci was over her illness and returning to work tomorrow.

  He’d given her a crooked grin after he’d delivered the news. “You made it—didn’t even drop one tray.”

  She didn’t tell him about the one she’d dropped when he’d gone to the bank last week. Dropping trays was the least of her worries. She had no job now. No reason to spend time with Zac. No excuse to catch little glimpses of him as he worked the front or managed the kitchen. The thought put a pinch in her chest.

  A crack of thunder sounded and the room went dark. She waited a minute, clutching the washcloth in her hand, to see if the lights would flicker back on. When the moment passed without incident, she peeked out the door. The rest of the downstairs was dark too. Pitch black.

  Zac had already headed upstairs to his apartment. If he was already in bed, he wouldn’t know they’d lost electric. She wondered if he had a generator. Or if there was something he needed to do to protect the food in the walk-in.

  She padded out of the bathroom and down the hall, feeling her way with a hand on the wall. She couldn’t see a single thing.

  Thunder boomed overhead and rain pummeled the roof. Hopefully it wasn’t prone to leaks. As it was, the parking lot was going to be—

  Oompfh. She ran smack into a wall, bouncing backward.

  Strong hands steadied her. “Whoa.”

  Her hands landed on the firm wall of his chest.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Oh my. I was—I was just coming for you.”

  “I was checking on you.” His voice sounded deeper in the dark somehow. The warmth of his hands seeped through the sleeves of her shirt. One of his fingers slid along her skin, awakening every cell.

  “Do you—do you have a generator?”

  “No.”

  “What about the food?”

  “It’ll keep. The juice’ll probably be back on by morning. Might want to throw another blanket on your bed. There’s an extra in the chest of drawers.”

  “Good idea.”

  Silence stretched between them, tension hovering around them. His hand flexed on her arm, and her pulse jumped. She’d always been so aware of him. But it seemed like it had been so long since he’d touched her. And after the way he’d stood up to Morgan tonight, she was having warm feelings—dangerous feelings—toward him.

  “Th-thanks again for what you did tonight. With Morgan.”

  “I’m just sorry I didn’t see it earlier.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She wished she could see his face, his smoky eyes. His breath fluttered her bangs, and the movement sent a shiver skittering down her arms.

  He cleared his throat. “There’s a, ah, flashlight in the kitchen. And candles.”

  “All right.”

  Neither of them moved. His spicy scent wrapped around her like a warm embrace. She should remove her hands from his chest, but the slow rise and fall was comforting somehow.

  Her fingers clutched at the soft cotton. The muscles beneath it tensed.

  Oh, how she’d missed being close to him. Missed the way she fit into him so perfectly. His touch was as familiar as an ocean breeze, his kiss as necessary as her next breath.

  He couldn’t be immune to her, could he? He’d always been so quick to respond to her kisses, often taking over in a flurry of passion. She’d missed that so much. Seven months couldn’t have erased his desire for her. His love for her.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, but the darkness made her bold. She stepped closer until she could feel the heat of him against her. Her hands moved up the solid wall of his chest, and his heart thumped against her palm.

  She worked her way up to his broad shoulders. The tips of her fingers tingled with want. His neck was warm and sandpaper rough, his pulse strong and quick. The stubble on his jaw prickled against her palms.

  “Lucy . . .”

  His voice was thick, filled with emotion, though whether it was encouragement or caution she wasn’t sure. Maybe he wasn’t either. Maybe it didn’t matter.

  She pulled his face toward hers, stretching up to him like a tulip toward the sun. His breath teased her mouth for an instant before their lips met.

  Ah, sweet heaven. She’d missed the familiar fresh and minty taste of him. His lips were as soft as she remembered.

  But they were not pliant. They were not moving. Not one bit. His jaw had grown hard under her palm. His hands gripped her arms tightly.

  He’s not kissing you back, you imbecile!

  Her heart buckled. She drew back, glad for the darkness as heat climbed her neck, flooding into her cheeks with mortification.

  Way to go, Lucy. Throw yourself at a man who doesn’t even want you.

  “I’m sorry,”she said on a thready breath.“I—I shouldn’t have—”

  He pulled her into him, and his lips were on hers.

  Her heart lurched in a moment of confusion. Then her legs went soft, and her fingers trembled against his neck. He demanded a response, and she gave it gladly, heady with the familiar dance. Her mouth parted on a breath, and he took full advantage.

  She slid her fingers into the softness of his hair, tugging. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her closer until the warmth of his chest seeped through her shirt.

  How had she made it these seven months without this? He was her rock. Her home. Her soul mate. Warmth pooled deep inside in a space that had been cold for too long.

  She sensed a change, some subtle shift in his kiss, a tensing of his body. And then he pushed her away.

  Zac dropped his hands, stepping back. His mind waged war with his heart, and his heart waged a war with his ribs. He was pretty sure his heart was winning both battles. It had never pounded so hard. Her kiss had sucked him right in. He’d held his own for all of two seconds before he’d dragged her back for more.

  Way to hold out, Callahan.

  He was glad he couldn’t see her face. See the hurt he knew he’d find there. He was glad she couldn’t see his either. His cheeks must be flushed with desire, and his eyes would give away his every thought.

  And man was he having thoughts.

  Their ragged breaths filled the space between them, mingling with the heavy cloud of tension.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally. Was that his voice, all thick and husky? Lord, what she did to him. He’d never wipe the memory of her from his lips.

  “Why not, Zac? Why can’t we—?”

  “No, Lucy. I know you think you love me, but—”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel.”

  “—you’re confused.”

  “Apparently so are you.” Her voice rose above the patter of rain.

  Well. She had him there. He palmed the back of his neck, a long, slow breath leaving his body. “This is too hard.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  He stepped back, putting distance between them before his hands did something he hadn’t given them permission to do.

  “Yes, it does. We’re over, Lucy. It was your decision to end things, not mine. Time didn’t stand still while you were gone. I’ve moved on.” Maybe if he said it with enough conviction, she’d believe it. Maybe they both would. “When your memory comes back—”

  “If my memory comes back.”

  “Even if it doesn’t . . . I don’t trust you now. You left me high and dry, and it was hard, Lucy. It took me months to even—” A hard knot formed in his throat, and he swallowed past it. “I’m not going there again. Maybe I’m still attracted to you, and maybe I’ll always care about you on some level, but it can’t go any further than that. It just can’t.”

  He brushed past her, feeling his way down t
he hall and toward the kitchen. He tried to ignore the way his legs quaked. The way his heart shuddered. The way every piece of him still screamed to go back and take her in his arms again.

  Chapter 20

  Lucy lay in bed listening to the patter of rain on the roof. She’d been lying awake for hours, the memory of Zac’s kiss lingering like a stolen dream. She would’ve been lying here with a smile, but for the way it had ended. The hurtful things he’d said.

  Now she only felt rejected. And the roots of those emotions sank all the way to her core, roping around her, strangling.

  Lucy’s mama had been a beautiful woman, full of energy and laughter, who smelled of flowers and sunshine from tending her beloved garden. Lucy’s favorite flower was the starflower with its vibrant blue petals and honey-sweet smell.

  “This one represents courage,” her mother had said one day as they gardened together. She ran her fingers through the tiny flowers. “It’s beautiful and sweet smelling, and you can even eat it.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure about eating flowers. But one spring morning when she was fretting over an upcoming math test, she found a starflower in her bowl of Cheerios.

  “For courage,” her mom said with a wink.

  With a little giggle, Lucy ate the tiny flower. She was surprised by its subtle, pleasant flavor—and by the A she got on her test later that day.

  Another starflower appeared later that summer when she had her first dance recital. On the night of the big event, she sashayed across the stage, not missing a single beat.

  The starflower soon became her favorite tradition.

  Lucy also had tea parties with her mom and grand balls where they danced around the living room while her dolls looked on with adoration. The days only got better when her daddy came home from work. Sometimes he even came home early because he was his own boss.

  Her parents were so in love. They snuggled on the sofa, sharing private smiles and quiet whispers. Sometimes Lucy would walk past them, close enough for Daddy to snatch her up and draw her into the hug. She would giggle and curl up between them, feeling so safe and loved.

  They took weekend trips to the beach and stayed at seaside hotels. They looked for shells every morning and built sand castles in the heat of the afternoon. They returned home on Sunday nights, sun-tired and happy.