by Karen Booth
“I really don’t care. I’ll deal with your sister if I have to, and I’m tired of the wedding putting everything else on hold. Not talking about this isn’t going to help us navigate the maze ahead of us.”
She sucked in a deep breath. Dealing with the wedding was a pain, but at least it had afforded her a few moments where she could stop worrying about what the future held. Her mind drifted to those heavenly moments just a few hours ago, when nothing else mattered but the two of them, perfectly in sync. “I wanted you this morning. You touch me and all I want is to give in. And it was wonderful. But that just makes everything more depressing.”
Logan blinked in disbelief. “I’m not sure what about that was depressing.”
The frustration was building inside her again. “I hate that we can only get our act together in bed. That doesn’t feel great.”
He sighed, tugging the keys out of the ignition and tossing them down into the cup holder. Apparently they were going to be there for a while. “We do have that problem, don’t we?”
She’d been bracing for an argument from him. Instead, he agreed, which felt far worse. “So I don’t know where we are, other than at an impasse.”
“An impasse with benefits. That’s a new one.”
“Very funny. You know, even if I forgive you for dumping me after the reunion, that doesn’t change the fact that you did it. That’s the thing I can’t get past right now.”
“I said I was sorry. You’re the one who doesn’t want to accept my apology.”
“It’s not about that. It’s not about saying that you’re sorry.” It’s that you don’t love me. And I can’t make you do it. She blew out a breath, and the quiet felt like it might suffocate her. There were no words she could say aloud to erase the empty feeling he’d left her with the day he took his love—or at least the promise of his love—away.
“Then what is it about?” He turned and reached for her hand, enveloping it in his. “Talk to me. Tell me whatever it is you need to say so we can get past this.”
How did she even put this into words? She looked up at him, fighting tears. It felt as though she was about to scratch open her own wounds. “You have to understand, I was so happy when I flew home to California that day after the reunion. I was so thankful that the planets had finally aligned and we were on the same page.”
He nodded. “I know. I felt that way, too.”
“And then you called and left me a message.” She shook her head and closed her eyes, praying for strength. “I remember it so clearly, too. I’d gone outside to get the mail and my phone was inside on the coffee table. You have no idea how my heart leaped when I came inside and saw that you’d called.” Just telling the story was making her heart feel impossibly heavy, as if it might fold in on itself from the weight of the past. “And then you told me that I was wrong. That we wouldn’t work. That our weekend had been fun, but we had to admit it was over. It felt worse than having the rug pulled out from under me. It felt like the earth had disappeared. One minute I saw a future for us and the next minute it went away. Poof. Disappeared.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you. I don’t know what else to say. I can’t undo what I did.”
“And then we talk in your hotel room the other night and you tell me that this all started because of the Derek thing. It’s so stupid.”
Logan sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not just that.”
She waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. “Then what?”
“I was a mess walking into that reunion. Feeling sorry for myself, depressed about my job. And that’s the one time, out of all of the reunions that we’ve seen each other at, that you decide you want to be with me? You didn’t want me. You just wanted another project.”
She narrowed her stare at him. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“You’re always trying to fix guys. They always have some tragic fault that you seem to think you can fix. And it usually just bites you in the butt at the end. Either that or you actually accomplish what you set out to do and then you’re looking for the next person to save. And frankly, I don’t care to belong in either of those camps.”
“That’s so untrue.” She crossed her arms and stared out the windshield. Or was that true? Was that really her pattern?
“Just think about it, Jules. When we first started going out, I was a project, wasn’t I?”
“That’s not the reason I liked you. That’s not the reason I wanted to go out with you. I thought you were cute and I couldn’t believe that you would even pay attention to me, let alone like me.”
“But once you got to know me, you realized just how lost I was. I needed your help. And you did help me. I will always be grateful for that. But once you were sure I’d be fine on my own, you dumped me. I wasn’t about to go through that with you again.”
Oh. That. All these years later and they’d never, ever, talked about their first breakup. Never.
“I don’t want to dredge up the past,” he continued. “But it hurt a lot.”
“We were kids. Did it really mean that much to you?”
Disbelief and disappointment crossed his face. Julia wasn’t sure which one hurt more. “I don’t know, Jules. We were in love, weren’t we? Did we mean that much to you?”
She nearly choked on the answer. “Of course we meant that much. Of course we did.” She stared down at her hands in her lap. “But I thought it was inevitable. You were going off to UCLA, destined to be the famous baseball player. You were going to have every girl in the world you ever wanted. I couldn’t compete with that.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough. I get that. Maybe we wouldn’t have been able to make it work. Very few people do. But it doesn’t change the fact that everything bad between us started right then.”
They were both quiet, Julia trying to absorb just how badly she’d hurt him. Did it all even out? Was that the way love was supposed to work? “Just so you know, you were not a project. I’ve never, ever thought of you that way. Not when we were seventeen and not three months ago. You have to believe me when I say that. I just wanted to help you.” Because I love you. The words were right there, but she couldn’t say them. They would go unreturned, and nothing would be more painful than that.
He nodded, but didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Okay. That’s good to know.”
“You know, you said that there was no telling how things would’ve played out the first time, but can you really say that about this summer, too? What if we’d done well? What if we’d worked it all out? What then? Just think of how different this weekend could be. We wouldn’t have to be sitting here wondering what the future held.”
Except that the question of paternity would still be hanging over their heads. They might be together, they might even still be in love, but if she’d had the test and taken away the uncertainty, there was a chance that in itself would’ve been the end.
“Look, I’m sorry if I misread the situation,” he said. “I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings. But you have to understand that I did what felt right at the time. It wasn’t pleasant for me, either. The summer was hard. I missed you a lot.”
“You did?” She looked up at him. Funny how that one tiny admission softened her heart. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve talked to you.”
“I could ask you the same thing, since you found out you were pregnant with what might be my child.”
Well then. The phone did work both ways. “Yeah. I see your point.”
“So now what?”
Facing him, she scanned his handsome features, wondering if he felt better about any of this. She was still processing. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Okay. Well, let me ask you this. What do you want from me? Let’s not even put the question of the baby in the mix. As a man, what do you want from me?�
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Talk about a loaded question. It was hard to separate the baby from the equation, but he’d asked her to. That meant she could only go to one place for the answer—the way she’d felt after he’d broken up with her, before she’d found out she was pregnant. “I want you to love me.” It was as much a plea to the universe as it was a request of Logan.
“I’ll always love you, Jules. There will always be love between us. And you know, I could ask the same of you. I would love it if you could find a way to love me. For real. For the long haul. I realize you were hurt, but you didn’t call me when you found out you were pregnant. That doesn’t really feel like love.”
She felt as if the air had been squeezed out of her. She’d spent an entire summer cursing Logan’s existence and a month wishing she didn’t have to tell him about the pregnancy. Then she’d spent the last two days thinking he was being nothing but a selfish jerk about the baby. Now who’d been the selfish jerk? She was pretty sure it was her. “You’re right and I’m so sorry. That was wrong.” Really, really wrong. “So now what?”
“Kiss and make up?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s time for us to forgive each other. It’s not like we don’t have other problems to deal with.”
“Okay. I forgive you. But they don’t just call it kiss and make up. We make up, we kiss.”
She dropped her head and hoped to convey admonishment with a single look.
“Think of it as a fact-finding mission. We’re both trying to figure out how we feel right now, and we both admit this is the part we always get right. And honestly, I feel like I break through some of your stubbornness every time I kiss you.”
“I’m not that stubborn.”
“Now you’re being stubborn about being stubborn.”
Before she could say another word, he clasped the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his. She insisted on a few seconds of hesitation, but gave in to it quickly, tilting her head as he opened his lips and sent that familiar tingle right through her. She pressed into him. He pushed right back. Hello, slippery slope.
She pulled back, her mind buzzing, but he held her head close, their foreheads pressed together, noses touching, both of them breathing heavily. “Logan, we can’t. You’re going to get me all riled up again. And I’m going to be late.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Yes. Of course. God forbid we disappoint the bride.”
Nine
Julia opened the door for Belle’s Bridal Boutique to one of the most unfunny pieces of music she could imagine right now. Electronic chimes played “Here Comes the Bride,” announcing her arrival. Ding ding ding-ding. Here comes the bride. Ha ha ha.
The woman working behind a tall counter near the entrance looked up and gasped. “Your sister said you would be coming.” She hurried out from behind her post and thrust out her hand. “I’m Tiffany. I’m the manager. I told myself I wouldn’t get too excited, but I can’t believe you’re in our little shop.”
Julia smiled and nodded. “Well, your little shop is just darling.” Her eyes glazed over at the racks of white dresses surrounding them. It was hard to imagine she would ever find herself in this situation of her own accord—picking out a wedding gown. That would mean she’d not only managed to find the right guy, she’d managed to hold on to him, and the entire world knew she was incapable of that.
Her father, sitting in the center of the showroom in a fussy white upholstered armchair, waved her over. He’d been stationed in an area with a carpeted pedestal and three-way mirror. “Hey, Junebug. Where’s Mr. Baseball?”
“He went with Carter to pick up the wedding bands. He’ll be back in about a half hour.” Julia plopped herself down on a love seat, thoughts of her talk with Logan still tumbling around in her head. He’d asked how she felt, but he hadn’t offered his own take on much of anything beyond their painful past. She wasn’t ready to slap a label on anything, but that kiss had sure given her something to chew on.
“Your mother is in the back with Tracy and the tailor. They should be out any minute.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” Tiffany asked. “Your mother and sister are enjoying a glass of champagne.”
Not for me. “Water would be wonderful.”
“I’ll be right back. Surely you remember Ms. Sully from your first fitting.” Tiffany’s drawl was so thick that the seamstress’s name came out as one word—Mssully. “She’ll bring out your dress as soon as she finishes up with your sister.”
Right on cue, a billowing white skirt peeked out from behind the expanse of mirrors. Tracy floated into view. Julia didn’t even have a second to process the vision before the tears started. She loved her sister to the very depths of her heart, even when Tracy was being a pain in her backside. Seeing her in a stunning off-the-shoulder gown that would’ve made Cinderella jealous enough to spit, all she could do was cry. Her mother wasn’t doing much better, hand held to her mouth, shaking her head, a blubbering mess.
Julia rose from her seat and went to Tracy as she stepped up onto the platform. “You are the most gorgeous bride I have seen in my entire life.”
Tracy gleamed into the mirror, turning side to side and smoothing the dress. She looked down at Julia with pure elation on her face. “Thank you so much. I can’t believe this is finally happening.” This was what Julia had hoped for this weekend—her sister, blissful and basking in the glory of being the bride. “And honestly, I can’t believe that something is actually going right for once. As soon as you got here the other day, I was sure this wedding was going to be a disaster.”
And just like that, Julia was thunked back down to earth.
“I really don’t think the dress needs any more alterations, Trace,” their mother said. “It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“I agree.” Ms. Sully added as she filed out from behind the mirror with a pincushion on her wrist and a pink measuring tape around her neck. “Now let’s get your sister into her dress. This should be quick. It was close to perfect for the first fitting, but I do want to check the length.”
Tiffany sidled out from the back room and handed Julia a bottle of water.
“No champagne, Jules?” Tracy asked. “We’re celebrating.”
She’d worried about this, especially after Logan had made the comment about the secret being impossible to keep. Julia rarely passed up a glass of bubbly, especially not celebratory. “I have a bit of a headache.” Not entirely a lie. The summit with Logan in the car had given her more than her head could handle.
“Maybe it’ll loosen you up,” Tracy countered.
“I’m good.” Julia hoped like heck her sister would just drop it.
“Your fitting room is right over here,” Tiffany said, thankfully taking the focus off what Julia was and was not willing to drink.
Ms. Sully followed as Tiffany directed Julia to a small room with an upholstered bench. Next to a standing mirror hung Julia’s dress, the one she’d tried on the last time she’d been in town. It was pretty, albeit maybe not what Julia would’ve picked out—pale pink organza with a strapless bodice and puffy skirt—so fluffy that Julia had commented that if the dress were yellow, she’d look like a lemon meringue pie. Tracy had not found that funny.
Julia’s mother joined them, closing the door behind her. “The bridesmaids’ dresses are so lovely.”
“Everyone else had their final fittings weeks ago,” Ms. Sully said, unzipping the dress, taking it from its hanger and handing it to Julia. “I would’ve preferred to have done the same for you.”
Julia slipped out of her sundress and into the gown. “I’m sorry. My schedule has been crazy.” Stepping in front of the mirror, she tugged up the dress to her armpits, holding it to her chest.
Ms. Sully took the zipper in hand, but judging by the sound of it, and the way the dress had not snugged up around Julia, she
didn’t get more than a few inches. “It’s too small in the bust.”
Julia’s mother tittered. “That can’t be right. The Keys women are blessed with childbearing hips and that’s about it. We did not get much in the boob department.”
“Look for yourself.” Ms. Sully struggled to pull the back of the dress closed, cutting off Julia’s oxygen supply in the process.
Julia felt the blood drain from her face. Oh no no no no no. She hadn’t accounted for this. She’d tried the dress on with a padded bra the first time—a very padded bra. The one she was wearing right now had only a thin lining. She’d been sure that would be enough difference to accommodate her expanded endowments. Apparently not.
Julia’s mom let out a snort of frustration. “This doesn’t make any sense. I was here when you tried it on the first time. Are you sure this is the same dress? Did you grab one of the other bridesmaids’ dresses?”
“The other girls have all taken their dresses home. This is the last one.”
A knock came at the door and Tracy walked in, back in her preppy fuchsia-and-lime-green sheath dress, bottle of champagne and three glasses in hand. “I brought the party and I’m not taking a no from Jules this time.” The smile on her face didn’t last long when she saw the back of Julia’s dress.
“Oh no, Jules. What did you do?”
“Me? Why do you immediately blame me?”
Tracy set the bottle down on a small table and hurried over, elbowing Ms. Sully out of the way and yanking on the back of the dress. “Suck it in. Come on.” She grunted and tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. “What on earth have you been eating?”
“It’s not her waist, although that’s definitely tighter, too. It’s her bust. Her chest is too large for the dress.” Ms. Sully pulled the tape measure from around her neck.