Flight Risk

by Barbara Valentin

  He gave Les a grateful smile when the older man nudged his shoulder against him and said, "Hey, anything for my godson, right? You've made your grandmother a very happy woman. From what I hear she's been giving out random bonuses all week."

  After yet another lousy shot on the sixth hole of a golf course sprawling along the Lake Michigan shoreline, Mac was beginning to wonder if he had bruised a couple of ribs in his and Aubrey's crash landing a few days before.

  "Can I be a designated putter?" he laughed as he trotted after the rest of the guys.

  When he caught up to Nick who was trailing behind the pack, which included his sixty-something father, the groom slowed his pace. "You OK?"

  "Oh, yeah. Just had a little trouble with a parachute on Wednesday."

  After walking a bit, the groom-to-be broke the silence with, "So I hear congratulations are in order."

  Mac stopped. "What do you mean?"

  Nick arched an eyebrow. "The girls are onto you, my friend."

  As if reading his mind, Nick clarified, "Not about who you really are but your proposal to Aubrey."

  "How…?" he couldn't wrap his head around how anybody found out.

  "It's all over the internet, man."

  Mac would have to have been deaf to not pick up on the disappointment in his friend's voice.

  A low growl started in the back of his throat as he walked. "I've been off the internet for so long, I didn't even think of that."

  With the rest of the groom's party already teeing up on the seventh hole, Nick lowered his voice. "Mattie thinks you guys haven't said anything because you don't want to detract from—" he waved his hand in the air as he walked. "All of our wedding stuff."

  "Mattie's a smart girl."

  This seemed to relieve Nick.

  "Hey, can I ask for a favor?"

  "Anything."

  Mac gave him a grateful smile.

  "Now, you guys don't leave for your honeymoon until Sunday night, is that right?"

  Nick nodded. "We take off for Florence at ten."

  "OK, remember when I told you there was one thing I still had to do before I could let everybody know who I was?"

  "Like it was yesterday."

  "OK, good." He handed him a piece of paper with the logistics of Aubrey's and his surreptitious boardroom ceremony. "If you and Mattie aren't busy around noon on Sunday, I'd be honored if you'd be my best man."

  Nick's eyes grew wide. "Are you serious? Of course, man. I'd be honored." He promptly wrapped him in a hug.

  "I know it's crazy," Mac laughed. "We only met a week ago, but…yeah. She's definitely the one."

  With an expression that burst with approval, Nick shook his hand. "That's great. I'm very happy for you." Holding up the little piece of paper, he added, "Looking forward to it."

  Box seats over the Cubs dugout at Wrigley field, courtesy of Mattie's brother-in-law cashing in some favors with his fellow season ticket holders, was the perfect way to spend the afternoon. Cold beer in the hot sun, good friends, and a crushing defeat over the Cardinals were just icing on the cake.

  By 4:30, he was back at the family mansion for a quick shower and change of clothes. By six, he was lining up in front of the altar at St. Matthias with the rest of the groomsmen, engagement ring in hand, waiting for his bride-to-be to walk down the aisle.

  Standing behind Tom, Mattie's brother-in-law, Mac watched as Sara started proceeding up the aisle. He glanced over to Andrew who was standing off to the side, chatting with Scott's girlfriend. When he saw Sara, though, he seemed to stop mid-sentence, watching until the tall beauty reached her destination at the front of the church.

  Turning, Mac caught his breath when he saw Aubrey already about a third of the way up the aisle. The short black dress and high heels she was wearing made him, he was sure of it, the envy of every other man in attendance.

  Well maybe not the groom.

  But it wasn't her outfit that caught his attention. It was her eyes, her dark gypsy eyes that held a dangerous, beguiling glint.

  "Slow down, dear," the wedding coordinator called from the back of the church.

  Aubrey paused and looked down at her feet. When she raised her head, she gave Mac the sexiest damn smile he had ever seen. With each step she took forward, he felt a little warmer. By the time she reached him, he was ready to ditch his tie and suit jacket.

  Instead, he offered his arm, as instructed, and together they took a few steps forward.

  "You clean up mighty good, window washer," she whispered.

  They both bowed before the altar, but before going their separate ways, he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  With woohoos, clapping, and wolf whistles sounding all around them, he slid the ring back on her finger and murmured against her smiling lips, "Now keep it on."

  With that, he set her free, happy and light as a feather, to join Sara on the other side of the aisle.

  After running them through a quick tutorial of who does what when and at what points they should stand, sit, or kneel, Father Steve concluded, "And then I will say, 'You may now kiss the bride.'"

  Nick promptly complied.

  The smiling priest lifted his arms. "How about a round of applause for the new Mr. and Mrs. Nicoli DeRosa?"

  "I like the sound of that," Mattie giggled as she took Nick's arm and glided down the aisle, and the small crowd obliged.

  Filing out in the reverse order, Mac waited his turn to move to the center of the aisle and then watched as Aubrey approached. Wearing a bit of a smirk, she idly wiggled the fingers of her left hand that was apparently getting used to the weighty feel of the ring. Taking the elbow he offered, she asked with a mesmerizing smile, "So what's the game plan on Sunday?"

  * * *

  Not long after the rehearsal had concluded, the bridal party and guests, including Father Steve and Mr. and Mrs. Lester Crenshaw, arrived at Nick's parents' house. Following the heart-festooned, arrow-shaped signs that started at the front door of the modest bungalow and continued down the breezeway to the narrow but deep backyard, they came upon an enchanting sight.

  A long rectangular awning of branches laced with grapevines and small round yellow lights that gave off a soft glow in the deepening dusk sheltered a table draped with a white linen tablecloth and set with Mrs. DeRosa's fine china. Wooden white-cushioned chairs surrounded it. Lanterns hanging from the lower branches of the mature trees on the perimeter of the yard added to the rustic Italian villa atmosphere.

  Best of all, the smell of Mrs. DeRosa's award-winning lasagna hung in the air.

  Delighted by the crowd's reaction, she beamed. "Just like back home, huh? Now, come on. Everybody, take your seat."

  Milling around the table, examining the hand-written place cards, Aubrey found herself sitting across from Mac and in between Paul and Tom who pushed in her seat for her.

  After Father Steve led everyone in saying grace, Nick's aunts and mother served course after delicious course, starting with the antipasto and ending with small squares of Tiramisu served on dessert plates with little white chocolate cups filled with mascarpone and dark chocolate cream.

  Throughout the meal, the wine flowed as easily as the conversation.

  After the rehearsal dinner itself was cleared, the toast rehearsal began. First up was Scott, the best man, who commended his old friend on marrying the only woman worthy of him, the "amazing Mattie." Taking in the clapping crowd, he then turned to Nick and asked, "Mind if I use this again tomorrow?"

  Next was the matron of honor, Mattie's sister Claudia, who choked up as she shared how proud she was of her baby sister for finally accepting that she deserved the very best in a life partner and how very happy she was that Mattie found it in Nick.

  Dabbing at her weepy eyes with her napkin, Aubrey looked across the table at Mac who, by the sounds of it, was grilling a visibly tired Claire on what it's like to have four boys.

  She nudged him with her foot. "We should probably get going, sweetie."

  He started.
"Oh, yeah. Sure."

  "Just let me grab my gown first."

  After struggling to find the little hook above the back passenger-side window of Mac's little Chevy, she did her best to drape it across the back seat so as not to wrinkle it.

  On the way back to his apartment, she filled him in on the itinerary for the next day. "I forgot my shoes at Nana's, so I'll just get ready over there. Then, Claire and Paul are going to pick me up and bring me to the church, and we'll just take your car to the reception, OK?"

  When he didn't respond, she asked, "Are you all right?"

  He turned and gave her a smoky stare. "I'm sorry. I'm a little preoccupied."

  A knot formed in her stomach.

  Bracing herself for what, she didn't know, Aubrey asked in a quiet little voice, "With what, babe?"

  With his eyes focused on the road ahead, he said rather matter-of-factly, "With how long it's going to take me to get you out of that dress."

  * * *

  Mac woke up the next morning to the sound of Aubrey's voice. Only, she wasn't talking to him.

  "No, I was never scared. A little worried, maybe, but not scared. I knew I was in good hands."

  He pushed the sleeping bag back and raised his head from the hammock, squinting.

  It wasn't even daybreak yet, and there was Aubrey, dressed in a T-shirt of his by the looks of it and some shorts, talking to Mr. Hammett, coffee mug in hand. When she saw him, she waved. "Oh, hi, sweetie. I was just telling Mr. Hammett about my jump."

  "Jumps," the old vet corrected.

  She patted his hand. "That's right. Jumps."

  After pulling his pants back on, Mac joined them.

  "Audrey just told me the good news," the old gentleman said more loudly than he needed to. "That's just wonderful."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "My wife and I were married for sixty-four years, and we had three children. With the exception of my one boy, I've outlived all of them."

  "Aw." Aubrey put her arm around him, and he gave her a tired smile.

  "You two go on now. Live your life to the very fullest. God only gives us one shot. Better make the most of it."

  Aubrey kissed him on the cheek and stood as she wiped her eyes with her fingertips. "What a great way to start the day, huh?" she asked Mac. "We're so blessed."

  Mac wasn't sure what to make of her, happy as a clam wearing his ratty old shirt, standing on the roof of an old building in a marginally sketchy neighborhood. All he could do was wonder how she'd react to her new Gold Coast digs.

  As soon as she left, he made his way to a popular neighborhood barbershop that didn't take appointments and was always crowded, especially on Saturday mornings. When he finished there, he headed to the family mansion where his tuxedo and Aubrey's favorite cologne were waiting.

  * * *

  After instructing her nana to not use the slide chain on the door that night, she filled her in on everything she knew about her own wedding that would take place the very next day. "Mac said he would pick us up at 11:30."

  With a happy shrug she added, "That's all I know."

  When she saw Claire and Paul pull up in front of their building, Aubrey gave her a kiss good-bye and reminded her about the slide chain before closing the door behind her.

  Not five minutes later, she was tromping up and down the aisles of a drugstore with Claire in her firecracker-red bridesmaid dress.

  "Ah, here we go," Claire exclaimed. "Queen size." Examining the package, she murmured, "I'm not putting these babies on until we get to the church. Let's go."

  And with that, they made their way to the register and then took a few steps into the balmy heat of a June afternoon in Chicago before diving into the blissfully air-conditioned car that was waiting for them right outside the door.

  "All set?" Paul asked. Looking as cool, calm, and self-assured as James Bond himself, Aubrey half expected to see a martini shaker in his cup holder.

  "Yep. Now step on it." Claire instructed with the command of an NFL head coach. "I don't want to be late."

  "Relax," her tall, dark, and smitten husband soothed. "They can't start without us. Right, Aubs?" Aubrey met his eye in the rear view mirror and laughed.

  "Let's not find out."

  Claire did her best to turn and face her. "Thank you."

  Aubrey just smiled and stared out the window, wondering what Mac could possibly have planned for their nuptials and what she should wear. For her first wedding, she wore a beautiful multi-colored sleeveless silk sundress that she had picked up in Hong Kong.

  Went perfectly with Max's Hawaiian-print shirt and cargo shorts…

  With a shake of her head, she looked down at her engagement ring glistening in the sunlight and made a mental note to be present and enjoy the moment.

  As they tooled through the tree-lined streets on their way to the church, she announced, "I'm so excited for Mattie."

  And she was, especially after having witnessed her friend and colleague transform from a chubby advice columnist to a marathon-running investigative reporter who was about to marry her former running coach.

  "Oh, me too," Claire sang out. Looking at Paul, she added, "I wonder how Nick's holding up."

  Grinning, her husband replied, "Heh, I'm sure he's fine. We'll see soon enough." He pulled into the parking lot at St. Matthias and dropped the bridesmaids at the door before parking the car.

  Aubrey, already ready, followed Claire to a room just off the lobby of the church where Sara greeted them. "Mattie and her sister are in there." She nodded to a closed door. "Bathroom," she explained.

  "Is everything OK?" Claire gasped while yanking her newly purchased pantyhose on under her sundress before putting on her gown.

  To Aubrey, the small windowless room suddenly seemed very crowded. Pointing to the door, she said, "I'm just going to check and see how everything's going out there."

  The sight of Lester Crenshaw pacing the length of the church narthex in the same black tuxedo as Paul's surprised Aubrey. He seemed tense and more than a little preoccupied.

  "Good morning, Lester." Despite him insisting that everyone call him that the night before, it still felt a little forced.

  "Morning, Aubrey."

  "Are you nervous?"

  He gave her a curious look. Like a coach assessing the readiness of a freshman football player who wanted to play with the varsity league.

  A quick smile cut across his face as he checked his cuff links. "Perhaps." With a wink, he added, "Just a little."

  She put her hand on his forearm and gave it a light squeeze. "Aw, you'll be fine."

  With a nod towards the guests, most of whom were already seated, he said under his breath, "I, uh, think someone is here to see you."

  She followed his gaze.

  Oh. Dear. God.

  Sucking in a breath, she took in the back of Malcolm's meticulously groomed head. "Why is he here?"

  "I asked him the same question myself. Says you invited him."

  Aubrey turned to face Lester, desperation oozing out of every pore. "No. Well, yes I did. But then I uninvited him." She glanced back into the church. "His admin must not have given him my note."

  "Apparently not," he chuckled.

  This close to gripping his lapels and outright begging, she asked, "What should I do?"

  Lester gave her elbow a squeeze and said, "Don't worry. I'll take care of it. I never liked that ladder-climbing suck-up anyway." After taking a few steps away, he looked back at her and winked, "I think I'm actually gonna enjoy this."

  Aubrey swallowed hard. Eager to go hide in the cramped bridal room, she heard Mrs. Trotter, the ever-cheerful wedding coordinator, call out her name from the other end of the narthex as she approached.

  She grimaced, hoping Malcolm hadn't heard it as well.

  "Listen, would you be a dear and let the rest of the girls know that we're just about ready to start? I've got to check on one of Nick's uncles who ducked outside for a smoke."

  "On my way," Aubrey b
reathed as she spied Lester motioning for Malcolm to join him near a door that led to the parking lot.

  Not wanting to catch her former dream husband's reaction, Aubrey made her way back to the bridal room, noting that Mrs. DeRosa, the groom's mother and most excellent seamstress, had fitted her dress like a glove. A very tight glove.

  Starting to feel a little light-headed, she pulled hard on the bridal room door.

  Then, quite to her surprise, tears sprang to Aubrey's eyes when she spotted the bride. With Mattie's long curly red hair swept to the side in a partial up-do, Aubrey almost didn't recognize her.

  She couldn't help but gush, "You look so beautiful."

  After Mattie's sister positioned a white tulle wrap around the bride's bare shoulders, gave her a kiss, and pulled the veil down over her face, Aubrey announced, "They're ready for us."

  Filing into the narthex, the still-smiling Mrs. Trotter got them into position and handed them their bouquets.

  A tad anxious that Malcolm would've somehow charmed his way into staying for the ceremony, Aubrey was struggling with how she'd explain his presence to Mac when the sound of Sara's voice startled her.

  "Just focus on my back, Aubs."

  "Thanks." Aubrey did her best to keep the desperate strain from her voice, but as soon as she saw that Malcolm was indeed no longer sitting where he had been, she took in as much of a breath as her seams would allow and relaxed.

  I'm not afraid anymore.

  As she made her way up the aisle, her gaze drifted from Sara's back to the front of the church where the groomsmen were lined up. When she spotted her wedding party partner, she had to stifle a gasp. Sporting a new haircut with product in it, a trimmed beard, and a fitted black tuxedo, Mac looked impeccable. And he was carrying himself as if he belonged on the cover of GQ.

  No, Forbes.

  A little jolt of curiosity kicked her in the brain just as it had each time he said something that didn't quite fit with his blue-collar job. And when she caught a whiff of his expensive cologne. And spotted the business books in his apartment.

  And then there was that odd little comment at the end of his proposal.

  You would make me the richest man in Cook County, maybe even the entire Midwest.