The Goodbye Bride

by Denise Hunter

  As she neared the front door, Zac came through the kitchen pushing a mop and bucket, his eyes drifting around the room. “Thanks for putting up the chairs.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m going to get the mail.”

  “All right.”

  The night was cool, a fresh breeze skating over her skin. She crossed her arms against the chill and drew in a deep breath of tangy sea air. Crickets chirped in the nearby grass. She crossed the gravel lot, her shoes crunching on the pebbles.

  A car door shut, drawing her eyes to the lone car in the parking lot, a dark sedan. A man walked toward her, crossing a puddle of light.

  Her steps faltered as he walked between her and the Roadhouse, trapping her.

  A cold shiver of fear washed over her skin. “I’m not giving a comment, so you need to be on your way.”

  He stopped in a puddle of light, a wrinkle creasing his brow. “Lucy—”

  “I mean it. I’ll call the sheriff if you don’t leave now.”

  “You don’t even recognize me, do you?”

  Lucy shifted, her gaze taking in his short windblown hair, his perfectly oval face, his dark eyes. He was dressed for the office, his tie loose as if he’d tugged on it.

  “Lucy . . . it’s me. Brad.”

  Somehow hearing he was her ex-fiancé didn’t make her feel one iota better. She tightened her arms across her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

  He walked toward her. “I was worried about you. You haven’t returned my calls.”

  She’d made the mistake of giving him her new phone number after he’d called Zac’s line repeatedly.

  Brad had gotten within a few feet of her. She stepped back. “I know, I’m sorry. I just . . . Things are a little crazy right now. I’m trying to settle in and figure things out.”

  “You don’t remember me at all?”

  She looked at his face now that he was closer. The security light made harsh angles of his nose and cheekbones. Gleamed off his high forehead.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t—” He shook his head, frowning. “We were engaged,” he said as if that fact trumped her traumatic brain injury.

  “I don’t even remember moving to Portland. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I can’t help it.”

  His eyes moved to her hand, and his lips tightened. “You’re not wearing my ring.”

  “We’re not engaged anymore. I—I’ll give it back.”

  “You should come back home. I can help you remember.”

  But she didn’t want to remember. Not him or Portland.

  But remembering would mean she wouldn’t be stuck on Zac anymore. It would put her out of her misery. If she remembered, would she go through with a wedding with this man she didn’t even hold a warm thought for now?

  He stepped forward. “I can help you, Lucy. I’ll be patient with you, and I’ll help you deal with the reporters. They won’t bother you in Portland. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Her eyes zeroed in on his as a knot tightened in her belly. “It was you.”

  “What was me?”

  She took a step back. “You alerted the media. You told them where to find me.”

  He held his palms up. “Hey. I had nothing to do with—”

  “Why would you do that?” Her voice crescendoed.

  He walked toward her, a resolute look on his face. “I didn’t, Lucy. I came by earlier and heard some talk at the café. That’s all.”

  She didn’t know what to believe, but her feet stopped as her back hit the mailbox.

  Zac pulled the mop from the bucket and slopped it across the floor. His hands worked on automatic, his mind replaying the moment earlier when he’d barreled out of the kitchen. When his eyes fell on Lucy in the poolroom. Nick bent over her, his body too close, one arm around her, the other over her hand on the back of the cue.

  Zac’s muscles had gone tight, his jaw aching as his teeth clenched together. For a brief second he imagined picking up the guy by his collar and britches and tossing him like a bowling ball down the front walkway, straight into the reporters.

  Strike.

  Instead he patiently mollified an elderly customer, giving him 50 percent off his tab, his eyes only drifting to Lucy again when her laughter rang out. He glowered at Nick as he gave her a double high five, practically turning the moment into a hand-holding session.

  Every time he glanced over at the poolroom, his blood pressure soared. Lucy seemed to be having a great time, laughing and chatting as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And it didn’t take much to see that Nick was smitten with her. He hardly took his eyes off her long enough to get a shot in.

  She’d distanced herself from Zac after their kiss, not that he could blame her. He’d pushed her away first. Right into Nick’s arms, apparently. Did she really like him? Zac couldn’t find fault with him, and that really rankled.

  Well, he’s in for a rough ride. Getting tangled up with Lucy Lovett was a lot easier than getting untangled. He was living proof.

  Zac swished the mop across the floor. He should be glad she was moving on with a guy like Nick. That was exactly what needed to happen. She thought she was still in love with Zac, but she really wasn’t. She’d moved on when she’d left Summer Harbor, her heart just didn’t remember. Maybe she wouldn’t get her memory back at all. Maybe Nick was just what she needed to get over him for good.

  The thought poked like a hundred burrs into his stomach. He jammed the mop back into the bucket. Either you want her or you don’t, Callahan. Make up your mind.

  But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing about Lucy was simple.

  But it was good. Or it had been, once upon a time. So good he could hardly stand the thought of her with someone else.

  Which was why she needed to get out of here ASAP. Her apartment would be ready next week, and the moment couldn’t come soon enough. As much as he hated the thought of putting her out there with those parasites still in town, he had to let go—really let go—of her. She wasn’t his responsibility anymore. She was an adult, albeit one with a minor brain injury. She could take care of herself.

  He glanced at the front door. She still wasn’t back from getting the mail. She’d been gone too long. A tight fist coiled in his gut when he thought of those reporters. Surely they were tucked away at the hotel by now. They wouldn’t hassle her, not after Sheriff Colton had warned them.

  He dropped the mop and went to open the front door. His eyes fell on two figures across the parking lot by the mailbox, just outside a beam of light.

  The man reached out, taking hold of Lucy’s arm. Lucy squirmed away, but his grip held.

  “Hey!” Zac bolted off the porch. “Let go of her!”

  The man turned, glowering at Zac, not relinquishing his hold. “I’m her fiancé.”

  “I don’t care who you are—get your hands off her.” His strides made quick work of the distance.

  The man’s hand fell as he neared, no doubt gauging Zac’s size and realizing Zac had him by a head.

  Lucy’s face was white and tense. She stepped away, her hands shaking.

  For the second time tonight Zac wanted to pummel somebody.

  The man threw his shoulders back, trying to act bigger than he was. “Who are you?”

  “Zac Callahan, and you’re standing on my property. I expect you to rectify that real soon.”

  Bozo stepped beside Lucy. “We have some things to settle. This is really none of your business.”

  Zac homed in on Lucy. She was pinching her bottom lip. Her pale face glowed in the moonlight.

  “Lucy, you want to talk to this guy?”

  Lucy’s eyes toggled between them, settling on Zac. “No,” she whispered.

  “That’s it, pal, you’re out of here.”

  “Come on, Lucy . . . ,” the guy wheedled.

  But Zac grabbed the back of his collar and walked him toward the only car in the lot. “You’re not welcome back here. If she wants you, she h
as your number.”

  The guy pulled away, and Zac let him go. He walked toward his car, tossing a sneer over his shoulder after he opened the door. “I’ll be back.”

  “At your own risk, buddy.”

  Once he left, Zac guided Lucy back inside. She was shaking, and he didn’t think it was from the chill in the air.

  He pulled a chair from the table and turned it over. “Sit down. Did he hurt you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” Lucy sank into the chair.

  He perched his hip on the table. “What’d he have to say?”

  She shrugged. Some of her color had returned. “He wants me to come back to Portland. I think he may have alerted the media.”

  “To get you to go back with him?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “I don’t like the guy,” he said, then wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Lucy might think he was jealous. And that wasn’t it. At least, he didn’t think so.

  “He’s probably just hurt after—everything that’s happened.”

  Zac didn’t buy it. There was something in the guy’s eyes. Something ruthless and hard. If Zac’s fiancée had gotten amnesia,

  he’d like to think he’d be patient and concerned rather than trying to force his own will down her throat.

  And he hadn’t liked the look on Brad’s face when he’d made that parting threat. Was he capable of danger? He’d grabbed Lucy, and for no apparent reason other than he didn’t like her answers.

  Between the reporters and Brad, the timing of Lucy’s leaving couldn’t be worse. He clasped his hands on the back of his neck, closed his eyes in a long blink. He couldn’t believe he was about to say this.

  “Maybe you should stay here awhile longer.”

  Lucy popped to her feet. “No.”

  He blinked at the speed of her reply. “You see the look on his face? You might’ve been engaged to him, but you don’t know anything about him, Lucy. Maybe he’s got a violent streak. Maybe that’s why you didn’t go through with the wedding.”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “He’s not going to give up, and if you’re alone in an apartment, what protection will you have? Plus you’ve got a horde of reporters following you around town.”

  Lucy crossed her arms, piercing him with those blue eyes. “I’m not staying, Zac.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn.”

  She lifted her set chin. “This isn’t working out—for either of us. I’m leaving next week, and that’s all there is to it.”

  He watched her go, her slender shoulders stiff, and sighed. When Zac wanted her to leave, she insisted on staying, and when he wanted her to stay, she insisted on leaving. That was just the way it had always been with Lucy.

  Chapter 24

  Lucy dabbed on pink lipstick and pressed her lips together. After fluffing her hair she stood back and surveyed her image. Subtle makeup enhanced her eyes and colored her cheeks, and tousled waves fell over her shoulders. She looked all put together in her pale blue sundress. But inside she was conflicted. She was going out with an awfully nice fellow, but the man she really wanted was right here.

  And he wants nothing to do with you, Lucy Lovett. So just get over it.

  She capped her lipstick and left her room. She’d wait for Nick on the front stoop. Maybe Nick was just a friend, but it was still awkward. And if she was honest, she had to admit that Nick was awfully flirty for a friend.

  Oomph! She bounced off Zac’s muscular chest as he exited his office.

  He steadied her with his hands. “Sorry.”

  His fingers burned through the light sweater, heating her arms, and his familiar spicy scent wrapped around her like a warm hug.

  He lifted his hands abruptly as if he’d been burned.

  “My fault.” She’d been flying down the hall, her mind elsewhere.

  His eyes swept her body, a glimmer of male appreciation registering in his eyes. “You look nice.”

  Her cheeks heated. She clutched her purse to her stomach. “Thank you.”

  He impaled her with those stormy gray eyes. “Got a date tonight?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’m going out with Nick. We’re taking his boat over to Folly Shoals for supper at the Seafood Shack, then we’re going dancing at the Hotel Tourmaline. There’s some kind of shindig going on over there. I didn’t really pay much mind to what it is exactly, but I wore my dancing shoes.” She kicked up her foot, giving a chuckle that sounded as nervous as she felt.

  Hush up, Lucy.

  He gave a tight smile. “Well. Sounds like a good time. Have fun.”

  “I reckon I will.”

  He let her precede him down the hall. Her legs were shaky from the brief encounter.

  “Lucy . . . ,” he said.

  She turned as she reached the busy dining room. Had she heard something in his voice? Regret? Longing? She looked into his eyes, searching. They held her hostage for a long moment. Her heart beat up into her throat, and her chest tightened with want.

  Something flared in his eyes, something warm and hopeful. But just as quickly, it was gone. “Nick’s a nice guy. You should give him a chance.”

  Heat scorched her cheeks as though he’d just slapped her. She blinked against the burning behind her eyes as something dark pooled in her belly. Nothing like the man you loved pushing you off on someone else.

  But even as the thought formed, something else swelled deep in her belly. Something that felt heaps better. Something red and determined and just a little bit peeved.

  “You’re right, Zac. You’re absolutely right.”

  Chapter 25

  Lucy sneaked away from the Roadhouse early the next Monday, meeting Eden by the marina for their jog. The reporters had yet to show up, but she’d tucked her hair under a ball cap anyway.

  “So . . . ,” Eden said as they ramped up to a brisk walk. “Don’t keep me in suspense. How’d your date with Nick go? I noticed he sat with you in church yesterday.”

  A salty breeze blew a tendril across Lucy’s face, and she swept it back. “It wasn’t a date, but it was really nice.” She injected some enthusiasm into her voice. “We had a lot of fun. He’s a good dancer, and we never ran out of things to talk about. We have some of the same interests, and he’s got a real good sense of humor.”

  “And . . .”

  “And . . . that was it. He was great. It was nice.”

  “Nice.”

  “What? There’s not a thing wrong with nice.”

  Eden spared her a look. “Nice is how it feels to kick off your heels after church on Sundays. It’s what your friends say about a bad haircut. It’s what—”

  “All right, all right. I don’t know what you want me to say. Nick’s just a friend. I’m in love with Zac. That feeling’s not going to go away anytime soon.” She gave a wry grin. “Unless my memory comes back. And then, apparently, it’ll disappear faster than a hot knife through butter.”

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to push. I just hate seeing you like this. There aren’t any sparks at all with Nick?”

  “Not really. I mean, maybe something could come of it someday. They say the best relationships start as friendships, right?”

  She remembered the instantaneous spark she’d had with Zac. She’d wanted to fall into his smoky-gray eyes and drown. She felt a pang of loss.

  “Sure.”

  Their conversation slowed as their pace picked up. Zac had been nowhere to be found when she arrived home from her date. She’d tried to have a good time. Maybe too hard. Nick had been a little flirtatious, and she didn’t want to lead him on. Had she not been clear enough about being friends?

  Her eyes caught a flash of blue, and she saw Brittany Conley swinging on her front porch. Lucy lifted a hand and got a wave back in return. She’d run into the girl riding her bike downtown before the media had shown up. They’d talked a few minutes about basketball. Brittany hadn’t made the school team, but Lucy encouraged her to keep practicing her skills.

  Awhile later, they
slowed to a walk as they entered town again, catching their breath. Lucy shelved her hands on her hips, breathing through a hitch in her side. Her endurance was improving. She was only a little more winded than Eden.

  “I have about a half hour,” Eden said. “Want to grab breakfast at Joe’s?”

  “Sure.” The center didn’t open until ten, and the longer she stayed away from the Roadhouse the better.

  “Beau told me your ex-fiancé paid a visit a few days ago.”

  “It was really peculiar. I felt kind of intimidated by him. I was awful glad when Zac came out and shooed him off.”

  “Is he still in town?”

  “I’m not sure. He hasn’t come around anymore. I’m going to mail the engagement ring back to him. Maybe he’ll leave me be then.”

  “Maybe you should reconsider that new apartment. Just until things settle down. Beau said he threatened to come back.”

  “I think that was just his pride talking.” She didn’t want to think about that today. “So what about you . . . any wedding plans yet?”

  “Oh!” Eden said as they turned toward the diner. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. We set a date yesterday. August sixth of next year.”

  “Isn’t that just something! Let me know if I can help with the planning.”

  “We’re going to keep it pretty simple. I already had the big white wedding, and it didn’t work out so well.”

  “I’m surprised you’re going to wait a whole year. You and Beau seem like you can’t get enough of each other.”

  “Oh, we can’t. And while a part of me can’t wait to start our happily-ever-after, the saner part of me knows I need time. My first marriage was so difficult.”

  “You’ve alluded to that. Is it hard to think about getting hitched again?”

  “Not in the way you think. Beau’s so different from Antonio. He was controlling and emotionally abusive. I still kind of chafe at restrictions. Even prudent ones. I lost myself for a few years, and I’m still finding my way back.”