by Alane Hudson
Scotty directed Blake, Charlotte, Joe, and Uncle Roy to where they would wait, where to walk, and where to stand in the white gazebo, and placed Gloria in the first chair in the first row on the right side of the aisle. He described how Andrea would walk up and where she would stop. Her father was to hand her off to Blake, who would help her up the gazebo’s one step, and she would stand beside him, facing Uncle Roy.
“I’ve already paced it off,” Scotty said. He took Andrea by the hand. “Let’s practice your bridal walk.”
“Want me to come?” Joe asked.
Scotty gave him a quick look-over, flashed a smile, and said, “Oh, yes, honey. I sure do.”
Joe blushed and followed Scotty and Andrea across the grass while Scotty described where the chairs would be set up.
“The flowers have been delivered and are waiting in the cooler,” Scotty said. “Everything will be assembled in the morning so that the chairs don’t get wet and dirty overnight. The sprinkler system has been turned off, so the grass should be dry for you tomorrow.”
Andrea was so glad she didn’t have to think of these things herself. Next time she got married—if she ever did—she would definitely hire a wedding planner. And next time, she’d be able to afford one.
She stood behind a white, ivy-covered lattice partition, just outside the clubhouse.
“When you’re ready to get married, you’ll come out this door and wait here for the music to start. Your father should be just inside the door waiting for you.” Scotty took Joe by the arm and moved him to Andrea’s right. “Your dad looks so young for his age.” He opened his cell phone and tapped a few buttons. “All right. Here we go.” The wedding march began to play from the phone’s tiny speaker. “Listen for when it goes duh-duh, and then take your first step... now.” He put the music on pause. “That’ll be your cue to begin the march, okay?” He started it over again, and when the cue came, Andrea took Joe’s arm and started walking.
“Honey, no no no,” Scotty said, pausing the music again. “It’s step-together, step-together, step-together. You don’t just trudge out there in your glorious gown like you’re slogging through a mud pit. This is the biggest day of your life. Savor every step. Try again.”
This didn’t feel at all like what Sarah would have wanted for her wedding. Granted, Andrea didn’t know Sarah well at all, but she was a strong, independent woman. She didn’t strike Andrea as the sort who would cling to tradition. “No, wait. I don’t want to walk like that,” Andrea said. “It’s too stilted and old fashioned. I’ll just walk slowly. And I want Blake to meet me halfway. I’m not a prize my father’s giving to him. This is a decision we made together.”
“Oh, okay. Sure,” Scotty said, looking surprised. He jogged toward the gazebo. She heard him say, “Slight change in plan. She wants the groom to meet her halfway.”
Blake smiled and followed Scotty back. “How about if I walk toward her when the music starts and wait by the last row of chairs?”
“Perfect,” Andrea said. She loved that idea.
“That should be right about here.” Scotty stood with his feet together, marking the spot. “Okay, places, everyone.”
This time, Andrea took her time, strolling across the grass on Joe’s arm. While Blake walked from the gazebo toward her, their eyes were fixed on each other, smiles on their faces. She could almost imagine this as her own wedding.
A shadow appeared on her left, and Joe stepped aside. Another man took his place, a gray-haired fellow with steely eyes and a practiced smile. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, falling into step with her. He breathed heavily, as if he’d been running.
Andrea looked away quickly, her heart pounding. What if he noticed that she wasn’t Sarah? This whole charade was about to crumble around her. On the inside, her spine felt like it had turned to jelly and her stomach churned. Blake’s smile faded, and his gaze grew more intense, as if he were trying to reassure her telepathically. She had the urge to quicken her pace, to flee to the safety of Blake’s arms, but she had to focus. Sarah would be pissed about her father’s tardiness. She might even holler at him.
Charlotte’s words came back to her. She pretends he’s not even there. Doesn’t answer his questions, doesn’t respond to his remarks, doesn’t even look at him.
Andrea glanced at her maid of honor, who also watched intently, nodding slightly as if affirming Andrea’s thought: Just ignore him. It’ll be less suspicious that way.
“What’s he doing way back here?” Harold said. “Blake, get up there on the gazebo.”
“Oh,” Scotty said, walking backward in front of them, “we changed it. You’ll see. It’ll be wonderful.”
Harold grumbled and muttered about breaking tradition and young people having no respect these days. Andrea was tempted to stop right then and kick him out of the wedding, or at least make him sit and watch like Gloria, but she couldn’t do that. Not without giving him a good look at her face.
Finally, they reached Blake, and Andrea withdrew her left hand from Harold’s arm and took her groom’s arm with her right.
“Perfect,” Scotty said, clapping his hands. “You didn’t even break stride. That was perfect.”
Blake glanced at her with a smile as they walked. Joe had run ahead to take his place on the gazebo, and now he and Charlotte were grinning and nodding, sharing her victory over making it through her first encounter with Harold Gentry. At last, she and Blake reached the gazebo, and he helped her step up before taking his place. They held hands while the march finished playing on Scotty’s phone.
“Excellent,” Scotty said. “That was perfect. Now Judge Williamson says his thing, blah blah blah, do you Blake Thomas blah blah blah, do you Sarah Gentry blah blah blah. You two can face Judge Williamson the whole time, or you can turn and face each other, whichever you prefer.”
“Face each other,” Blake said.
Sarah would probably want to face Uncle Roy. It wasn’t a marriage she was entering into with any degree of enthusiasm. But Gloria would think it strange if Blake was the only one showing any excitement or love. This show was for Gloria’s sake anyway; had it been solely for Harold’s, they could have gone to the courthouse and skipped the ceremony. Andrea nodded. “Yes, let’s face each other.” He took both of her hands in his, stroking her fingers with his thumbs.
“You may now kiss the bride,” Scotty said. “Sorry, Your Honor. I know that’s your line, but I always like saying that.”
A few people chuckled politely. A few seconds ticked by with Blake and Andrea still holding hands.
“Well? Kiss kiss,” Scotty said. “Don’t be shy.”
Blake moved one hand to the side of her face and head and bent down, placing a warm, soft kiss on her lips. His lips lingered for a second, and another, and another, before pulling away.
She felt a lightness in her chest, like her heart was a feather floating within a cage, and her knees weakened. With her free hand, she fanned herself with a throaty laugh, slightly embarrassed at the way her body had responded to him in front of his mother.
Scotty clapped again. “Nicely done. You’ll pose for a few photos, turn to your guests, give a little fist pump or wave or whatever, and then walk back up the aisle. Your carriage will be there, by the curb. You can walk directly to it instead of going through the clubhouse. Any questions or concerns?”
Andrea gripped Blake’s hand, sensing that they were wrapping up and she might have to address Harold Gentry.
“No, I don’t like this. I’ll walk her all the way to the gazebo,” Harold said. “Blake can wait there for her.”
Scotty blinked, momentarily silenced by the man’s audacity.
“Sarah wants it this way,” Blake said, “and I agree. It’s more symbolic of our marriage—a step we’re taking together.”
Harold glared at him for a second before his stormy gaze shifted to Sarah. “Fine. If that’s how Sarah wants it. At least I got her here.”
“I beg to differ,” Blake said, stiffening. “I
put that ring on her finger. I got her here.”
“Well, she’ll be your problem after tomorrow.”
“Harold,” Gloria said in a scolding tone. “Really? Is that any way to talk to your only daughter? At her wedding rehearsal?”
“Or any other time,” Blake added. “You owe her an apology for that remark.”
Andrea knew then that Blake didn’t like Harold any more than Sarah did. “Let’s go,” she said quietly. She didn’t want an apology from him. She didn’t want anything other than to get as far away from him as possible.
Harold looked around at the hostile glares all focused on him like lasers and burst out laughing, a too-loud, fake laugh, the kind people used to cover their own embarrassment. “I was joking. Sarah knows I love her, don’t you, baby doll?”
She turned her face away without answering, not at all sure Sarah knew that.
“All right, that’s it,” Scotty said. “Do you want to run through it one more time?”
“No, we’re good,” Blake said, sliding a protective arm around Andrea.
Scotty tucked his tablet under one arm. “The guests will arrive between one and one thirty. I’ll have them seated by one forty-five. The seven of you should plan to be here no later than twelve thirty, earlier if you think you’ll need more time to get ready.” He looked back and forth between Andrea and Blake. “Be sure to eat a decent meal before you come, otherwise your growling stomachs will scare your guests. They might think a wild animal is loose somewhere.”
“What did you do to your hair?” Harold Gentry was staring directly at Andrea. This time, Joe didn’t giggle.
Don’t answer him. Don’t even look at him.
“She’ll be getting it styled in the morning,” Charlotte said.
“I meant since last time I saw you. Well, whatever you did, it’s nice. Makes your face look fuller.”
Oh, God. He was noticing the differences. He would know she wasn’t his daughter, and then Gloria would know, and their business deal would dissolve and Gloria’s dream would go poof, right into thin air, and it would be Andrea’s fault and Blake would hate her forever and Sarah wouldn’t pay her, wouldn’t hire her, and she would get evicted and have to move to Arizona to live with her parents. The world in her vision began to break apart into swirling snow like late-night TV in the days of old. Her knees weakened, and she thought she was falling. She felt Blake’s arm tighten around her waist, steadying her, snapping her back to consciousness.
“...looks gorgeous,” Blake was saying. “And she’ll be even lovelier tomorrow.”
“If that’s it,” Charlotte said, “we can call it a day.”
Andrea nodded, feeling steadier on her feet, thankful for Blake keeping her upright. She let him know with a touch on his chest that she was all right now.
“Everything’s going to be perfect,” Scotty said, clapping his hands together. “I can’t wait until you see it tomorrow.”
“If you think of anything else, Scotty, give us a call.” Blake hugged and kissed his mom, as did Andrea. When Harold opened his arms to embrace his daughter, Andrea turned away to give Charlotte a hug. Blake shook his hand instead.
“You did great,” Charlotte whispered.
When they stepped apart, Joe opened his arms for a hug from Andrea, a lusty grin on his face.
Blake stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Mine.” He took Andrea’s hand, engulfing it in his own. They waved and bid everyone a pleasant evening as they started off across the grass toward their waiting limousine.
Walking hand in hand with his fake bride-to-be, Blake smiled down at Andrea. She was amazing, and he couldn’t help feeling proud of her—and jealous that some other guy, maybe even Joe, would end up with her. It was a marvel she wasn’t already married. “You did great today. How’re you feeling?”
“He was starting to notice the little differences.” Her eyes were round, and concern creased her forehead. “I don’t know about this.”
“But he didn’t. Tomorrow will be even easier because you’ll have the veil on. At least you remembered the birthmark.”
Andrea grimaced. “Charlotte reminded me when she found me in the ladies’ room.”
Blake heard the sounds of chatter behind them and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, great. The rest of them are heading this way. Let’s hope that’s our car so we can make a clean getaway.” He increased the pace to a brisk walk.
As they neared the limo parked at the curb, the driver got out and jogged around to the passenger side. “Mr. Thomas? I’m Sean, taking over for Steven.”
Andrea stopped, her hand slipping out of Blake’s. Her face was ashen, and she gaped at the driver.
“Andrea?” the driver asked, a matching gape on his face.
He knew her? Hell. Blake reached for her hand again and guided her to the door. “No, this is my fiancée, Dr. Sarah Gentry. You’ve mistaken her for someone else.”
His mother and Harold walked up. “Is there a problem?” Gloria asked.
“Who is Andrea?” Harold asked.
“Nobody we know,” Blake said. He snapped his fingers in front of the driver’s face. “Sean, pay attention.” Andrea’s eyes were brimming with tears, and her lower lip quivered. Hold it together, babe, he thought. Just a few more seconds.
The driver startled, snapping his eyes away from Andrea, and opened the rear passenger door. “I beg your pardon. You look exactly like—”
“That’s interesting,” Blake said, cutting him off. “Call your friend later and yap all you want, but right now, you’re talking when you should be working.”
“Yes, sir.” Sean stared at Andrea as Blake helped her inside.
When she was settled in her seat, he leaned in and kissed her lightly. “Just a few seconds longer,” he whispered. He glared at Sean, instructing him silently to back the hell off, and shut her door before walking around to the other side.
“What was that all about?” Gloria asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” he said over the limo’s roof. “Just our driver being unprofessional. See you tomorrow.”
“All right. Good-night, sweetheart.” Gloria stooped down and waved at the window. “Good-night, daughter-to-be.”
As soon as Blake got in and shut the door, he asked, “You know him?” Andrea burst into tears and hid her face in her palms. After pulling the tissue box out of the console between them, he lifted the console into the seat back and slid to the right so he could take her into his arms. “I’m here, babe. I’ve got you.” He plucked a couple of tissues from the box and put them in her hand.
The intercom clicked on. “Where to, sir?”
“To Dr. Gentry’s house. The address is on file.”
“Got it right here, sir. On our way.”
Blake waited for the red light to blink out, indicating the intercom had been turned off. Andrea continued to cry softly into his shoulder. “Driver?”
“Uh, yes sir?”
“Turn off the intercom.”
“Yes, sir.”
The red light flickered but stayed on. “Sean,” Blake shouted. “Turn the damned thing off. Now.” When the red light went off and stayed off, he turned his attention to Andrea. “It’s okay, love.” He held her close and kissed her hair. They rode that way most of the way to Sarah’s house, and Andrea’s cries quieted to sniffles. He was eager to know who this guy was to her to cause so much pain, but he wouldn’t push her to talk about it until they were safely home where she wouldn’t have to face Sean again.
When they turned onto Sarah’s street, she pulled back. “I could use a tissue.”
Blake reached over for the tissue box he’d set aside and offered it to her. She plucked another tissue from the dispenser and blotted her face. Her mascara had run, leaving her looking almost like a raccoon. He took a tissue too. “Close your eyes.” When she complied, he tipped her chin up with one finger, wet his thumb on his tongue, and wiped away the smeared mascara below her eyes and then cleaned it up with the tissue. “There you go
.”
She met his gaze with such a sorrowful expression, his chest tightened. The pain in her eyes ignited his protective instinct, and he felt the blood flow to his muscles, readying him to dish out a beat down that bastard would never forget.
When the car pulled into the driveway, Blake patted Andrea’s arm. “Stay put for a second. I’ll get your door.” He got out, slammed his door shut and put a firm hand on Sean’s shoulder as the driver climbed out of the car. “Get back in and stay there until we’re inside.”
“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding earlier.”
“Just get in.”
“Would you prefer another driver, sir? I could have the company send over another car to take you home.”
It was tempting, but Blake actually wanted to talk to this guy, just not in front of Andrea. “No. I won’t be long.” Once Sean was back in the car, Blake jogged around to the passenger side and helped Andrea out.
At the front door, her hand trembled so badly, she couldn’t get the key into the lock. “Let me get that for you.” He took the key and unlocked the door.
Inside, she let loose a shudder. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why he rattled me so much.” She went into the kitchen and set her purse on the counter.
Blake went to the mini bar. It occurred to him that Andrea apologized a lot. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever hearing the words I’m sorry from Sarah’s lips. “Can I fix you a drink? A little something to relax?” Though he’d attended a few classes at one of the local bartending schools on how to mix drinks for cocktail parties, he’d never bartended professionally. His father had always stressed that being a good host was as much a man’s responsibility as a woman’s, and learning to mix a drink was a good place to start.
“Sure. Can you make me a Washington Apple?”
No one had asked for that in years, and he had to think for a second to remember the ingredients. “Let’s see if she has the Sour Apple. I didn’t peg you for a fruity drink kind of girl.”