Thirty-Four Going On Bride (The Spinster Series Book 3)

by Becky Monson

  I want to start into the fact that Anna is still so young, having had a whirlwind courtship with Jonathon, they both need time to enjoy each other before adding children into the mix. But with Anna, that would only push her toward the decision. I also can’t have Anna getting pregnant before me. I mean, I’m the firstborn of the Dorning children and the last to get married. I can’t be the last to have kids. That just seems wrong. And totally unfair, in my very petty opinion.

  “Yeah,” Brown says, sadness in her tone and expression. “I hope it happens.”

  It’s so hard to see Brown this way. And I can’t do or say anything to help the situation. I feel helpless as her friend.

  “Okay, so Julia, are you sure about the cream tablecloths?” Anna asks, changing the subject back to me, clearly as uncomfortable with this new side of Brown we’re both seeing.

  I pick up a throw pillow and toss it at her head. Brown laughs and just like that, the serious tone that was blanketing the room changes.

  I guess right now I should be thankful for Anna and her obsessive-compulsive disorder over my wedding. But only in this instance.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Can I have a word, Julia?” Bobby asks from the display counter.

  It’s a week later and things seem to be going smoothly, which means everything’s about to blow up in my face.

  “Of course,” I say cheerfully. “What can I help you with?”

  She looks around her, seeing the other eyes and ears in the room with us (basically Debbie and Kate). “Can I talk to you alone?”

  “Sure,” I say, my eyebrows pulling together as a feeling of uneasiness spreads over me. Bobby’s look is a mix of worry and irritation.

  I walk out from behind the counter and into the main dining area. We grab a seat at a back table.

  “How are you?” I ask happily, trying to kick this conversation off on the right foot. Which is stupid, because how can my tone instantly change someone’s mood? But I try, regardless.

  “Well, I’m a little concerned,” she says, looking directly into my eyes.

  “Concerned? About what?” Oh dear, what have I done. I start thinking of things in my head. With me, there could be so many possibilities.

  “Well, I spoke with Mark yesterday and he said that Lisa told him that she spoke with you and that you indicated that you weren’t excited about getting married.”

  “What?” I say, surprised. Which isn’t a stretch, I’m truly stunned. Also, at the mention of Lisa’s name my eye does a little twitch.

  “She said she came into the bakery to grab a treat and that you just started telling her how you felt overwhelmed and stressed and that you weren’t sure you wanted to get married at all,” Bobby says.

  “I never said that!” I say, louder than I intended.

  “Well why would Mark just make that up?” Bobby says, confusion in her countenance.

  “I don’t know. I mean, Lisa did come here last week. But she was the one who assumed that I wasn’t excited. Yes, I’m a little overwhelmed—with the bakery and the wedding planning—but I most definitely want to get married to Jared.”

  Twitch.

  Dang it! Why is it anytime Lisa is mentioned my eye twitches? My eye must really hate her.

  “Oh,” she looks to the side, as if contemplating what I’m saying. “Well, that’s good,” she says, not sounding entirely convinced.

  “Bobby,” I say, reaching across the table and covering her hand with mine—an odd gesture for me, but I’m rolling with it. “Trust me. I want to marry your son. I’m excited about it. I may not be thrilled with doing the whole wedding hoopla and would rather elope, but I’m…”

  Oh crap. What did I say? The color in Bobby’s face has drained and she swiftly removes her hand from underneath mine as if my touch has burned her.

  “You’d rather elope?” she says, her eyes wide with disbelief. “After all of the work we’ve done?”

  “No!” I say quickly. Holy crap, I’m so awesome at making things worse. Really, it’s a talent. “Of course I want a wedding and all of that; the eloping is more of a silly dream.” I smile, hoping to convey that the eloping thing was not something I seriously considered, which is a total lie, of course. But no matter, I can tell by the look on her face that she’s not buying it.

  “Well,” she rubs a temple, “I wish I would’ve known that you prefer to elope so then we could’ve avoided all this planning.”

  Wow, she’s ticked. I’m going to kill Lisa. Like actually kill her—not just saying it. My eye is twitching at a rapid pace now.

  “No,” I say emphatically. “I want a wedding. I’m just not a big wedding kind of gal. I don’t like a lot of fuss.”

  “What are we supposed to do? Uninvite people? Save the Dates have already gone out,” she says, her voice stern. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bobby like this before.

  “Of course not,” I say. “The wedding is planned, the guest list is made. It’s going to happen no matter what I prefer.”

  Hello foot, welcome to my mouth.

  “Well, maybe you should elope, then, if it’s what you ‘prefer.’” She spits out the last word and starts to stand up to leave.

  “Bobby, no—that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, my mind is a bit foggy. It’s been a busy morning. What I mean to say is that I want to have this wedding, I want to marry Jared, and I want it to be a wonderful day for everyone. Okay?”

  It’s barely readable, but her eyes do soften a touch when I say this.

  “Well, okay then,” she finally says, and my stomach relaxes slightly.

  “Can you do me a favor and not believe anything Lisa has to say?” I ask.

  She laughs. “I’m a little shocked I believed anything out of that girl’s mouth. Especially after what she did. I should’ve known...” she trails off, looking down at her diamond-ring adorned hands, resting on the table.

  “What did she do?” I ask. I knew there was a story there!

  “Oh, it was nothing,” she says, batting the question away with her hand. “I mean, at the time it was a big deal, but that was a long time ago. I’d hoped that she’d grown up. But apparently she hasn’t.”

  “Well, Mark will kick her to the curb soon enough, I’m sure,” I say, wishing I could know more, but I know Bobby well enough to know that if she wanted to tell me, she would. Maybe at some point I’ll get it out of her.

  “I’m not so sure,” she says, her lips forming a flat line. “He’s asked if she can be his plus one at the wedding.” She shakes her head.

  “He has?” I can’t hide my disdain. That sucks. I don’t want her at my wedding. “But it’s still over two months away. How does he know they’ll even be together? His track record isn’t fantastic.”

  “That’s what I asked him, but he told me he had ‘a feeling’ about this one,” she says, a glint of frustration in her voice.

  “Well has he ever had a feeling before?”

  “Not that I know of. At least, not that he’s mentioned.” She sighs a big frustrated sigh, and I echo her.

  “Well, I guess we can only hope he’ll un-feel the feeling before then.” I just really really really don’t want Lisa at our wedding. I can picture her looking at me with that smug face of hers, her eyes indicating that Jared is only settling for me.

  Suddenly, when I picture myself in my wedding dress I feel frumpy. I need to go for a jog. I can’t have Lisa one-upping me at my own wedding, which she most assuredly will try to do. She might even flirt with the groom, since she’s pretty good at doing that as well.

  “Well, don’t you worry about Lisa,” Bobby says. My face must’ve been revealing my thoughts.

  “I’m not,” I say a little too quickly, indicating that I’m probably more worried than I should be.

  “I’ve got to run,” she says, standing up, her purse in her hands. “If I haven’t told you, Julia, I’m glad you’re marrying my son.” She turns and heads toward the bakery exit.

  My eyes unexpectedly well up a
t that. “I’m glad to be marrying your son too,” I call out after her, other patrons turning my way at my declaration. I totally ruined that moment, but who cares. She’s “glad” I’m marrying her son. How would Lisa like that, huh? Too bad she wasn’t here to hear it. Although if she were, I would have pummeled her. The nerve of that girl.

  ~*~

  “Julia!”

  “Huh?” I say, waking up. I didn’t even know I’d dozed off. I’m sitting next to Anna on my couch and she’s got my wedding binder opened. We were going over the things we needed to get done this weekend … I think.

  “Did you seriously fall asleep while I was talking to you?” Anna accuses, her eyes squinting in disgust. “And you said you were going to ‘cut me’?”

  Did I say that out loud? Crap.

  “Sorry,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I’m just so freaking tired.”

  “Well, you’ll have time to sleep after the wedding,” she says, no indication of sympathy in her voice. “You’re not even doing all the work. I am.”

  She does have a point. I think it’s the combination of running the bakery, the upcoming gala and all that entails, and the wedding that’s draining me of my livelihood. Good heavens, what if I didn’t have Anna? I’d surely be institutionalized at this point. Even with her help, I still could end up there.

  “I was watching Liam until late last night,” I say with a yawn.

  “It’s so unfair,” Anna pouts. “I’ve offered to watch Liam so many times and Jenny always asks you. Why is that?”

  Because Jenny doesn’t trust you is what I want to say, but I hold my tongue. Instead I shrug as if to wonder the same thing.

  “I need the practice too,” she says, putting a hand on her stomach.

  Oh no. My stomach falls.

  “Wait … are you?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked. Anna can’t be pregnant now. I’m not ready. And of course, her getting pregnant is all about me.

  “No, not yet,” she says. “But not for lack of trying.” She gives me a quick double eyebrow raise.

  Gross. A picture of my sister and her prim and proper husband, Jonathon, getting busy and I’m about to up-chuck my dinner.

  “Are you really… um … trying?” I ask, my voice sounding rather sickly.

  “Well, not yet. I guess you could say we’re practicing,” she says, her hand back on her stomach. Is she practicing that too?

  “Is Jonathon ready for children?”

  “Yes … I think he is,” Anna says, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “You think he is?”

  “I mean, we’ve only discussed it briefly,” she says, still avoiding eye contact.

  “And?”

  “And he said he didn’t want to rush it.”

  “So how does that make him ‘ready’ then?” I question. This is so typical of Anna, once she’s made up her mind it’s as if no one else has an opinion. Even her own husband, who’d be the father of this future child. I’m no psychologist, but I’m pretty certain there’s a lack of communication going on here.

  “Don’t you worry about that,” she says, a sinister smile spreading across her face.

  I take in a quick breath of air. “You’re not going to pull one of those soap opera story lines where you stop taking birth control without his knowledge, are you?” My eyes go wide at the thought.

  “No,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The power of persuasion from a wife can be very convincing. You’ll see.”

  Oh yes, “you’ll see,” my two least favorite words in the dictionary these days. I swear Anna is always rubbing it in that she got married before I did. Her and Brown love to talk like they’re part of a special club and say things like “just you wait until you’re married, Julia. You’ll see.” Or, “this is just what married people do, Julia. You’ll see.” Or, “that’s totally a husband thing to do. You’ll see, Julia.” Mind you, I’m older than both of those wenches. Although I’ve never been married, so I guess I will see. Whatever.

  “Well, make sure you keep Jonathon in the loop,” I say, recalling how she was totally controlling when she got married and it almost caused them to break up the night before the wedding. I may or may not have aided in that, due to a little too much champagne. So, more “may” than “may not.” But I was also the one to fix it all, so you could say I saved the day … after nearly ruining it.

  “Duh,” she says, giving me her best snooty-duck-lips face she does so well. “Anyway, back to the list,” she brings my attention back to the binder in front of us.

  “Yes, the list,” I say with a yawn.

  “No falling asleep,” she scolds.

  “Yes, master,” I say, and yawn again.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Bakery owner Julia Dorning knows how to bake a pastry. Don’t let the dowdy look fool you. Underneath that disheveled hair and over-the-top makeup beats the heart of a true business owner. She epitomizes the growth and spunk of the local Denver businesses that are coming on the scene with a punch…”

  Holy hellfire and brimstone.

  I’m staring down at the article that Lisa wrote and printed on the front page of the business section of the Denver Post. And I’m quite suddenly feeling homicidal. Yes, that describes my feelings perfectly at this moment.

  I can’t say I was excited for this article to come out and I most certainly wasn’t thrilled to see my picture in the newspaper, but this … this goes beyond all my fears. I’m seriously hoping this is a bad dream and at any moment I’ll wake up. Please oh please let it be that.

  The article is full of jabs, but to the average reader, I suppose they would look past all of that. But the picture? Oh dear heavens … the picture. Apparently it was caught mid eye-twitch. So not only do I have backcombed hair and overdone makeup, I also have a shadow of a double chin and a lazy eye. I look like a southerner with Quasimodo undertones.

  “Jules, it’s not that bad,” Jared says as he reads the article. We’re sitting in my living room. He surprised me this morning with buttermilk donuts from Amerigo Delicatus (my favorite) and the newspaper. He wanted to read it together. I reach over and poke him with my finger and he gives me a confused look.

  Nope. Not a dream. Damn.

  “Not that bad? Are you reading the same article?” I ask, incredulous look on my face. I don’t dare bring up the picture. I can’t bear him to acknowledge it out loud.

  “’Don’t let the dowdy look fool you,’” I quote the article with my best Lisa imitation—which sounds more like the Wicked Witch of the West. “She basically said I’m not one of those girls who care about my appearance.”

  “Well, you aren’t one of those girls,” Jared says, his tone implying he thinks he’s complimenting me.

  “Oh my gosh, you think I’m dowdy?” I say, louder than I meant to.

  “No!” he interjects quickly, and good thing he did. He was about to lose a limb. One that he’d be very sad without.

  “I mean, you’re easy,” he says, and then his eyes bulge out at the realization of what just came from his mouth.

  “I’m easy,” I deadpan.

  “No! I mean, you’re just … you know … you.” He nods his head, acknowledging that I am, in fact, me.

  “I’m not sure how to take that,” I say with little inflection in my voice.

  “You should take it,” he says, putting the newspaper down on the coffee table and pulling me into his arms, “as a good thing. I like you just as you are.”

  “Keep talking,” I prod.

  “You’re the most interesting, intelligent, beautiful person I know.” He swipes a lock of hair that’s fallen in front of my eyes and pushes it behind my ear.

  “Uh-huh,” I close my eyes and lean into him.

  “You don’t even need any makeup.” His lips touch mine briefly.

  My eyelids flutter back open. “Now you’re patronizing me.” Obviously, I look like I’ve come back from the dead when I go without makeup. Actually “you look like you’ve come back from the dead” was
a direct quote from Lia the witch. And she would probably know. She’s familiar with talking to the dead (or so she claims).

  “You certainly don’t need makeup like you had on in that picture,” he points to the newspaper.

  I knew I was delusional to think that I could get away with no comment about the picture.

  “That was all Patti and Debbie,” I say, trying to pull away from him, but he tightens his grip around me.

  “The hair too?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair.

  “The whole freaking thing. Actually, it was worse. I tried to fix it but clearly I wasn’t able to,” I say, nodding my head toward the offending newspaper. “It’s all your fault, you know. You should’ve been there.” Not that much would’ve changed if he were. All of the disasters happened before he would’ve even shown up.

  “Sorry, Jules, I wish I could’ve been there. Anyway, don’t get worked up about it. The article was good. It’ll be great for business,” he says, and then brushes my lips with a sweet kiss. Yes, of course he’d think that. This is all going to be good for the expansion that I still haven’t told him I don’t want to do.

  “That’s the thing, though,” I say, pulling back. “What if I don’t want business to be better?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” He furrows his brow.

  Say it now, Julia. Just do it now before it gets too crazy. You can do this.

  “It means that I—“

  Jared’s phone rings, interrupting me. He looks at me, questioning with his eyes as to whether he should answer it or not. I give him a quick nod.

  “Hey Bobby,” he says when he puts the phone up to his ear. I still can’t get used to Jared calling his mom by her name. If I ever tried that with my mom, she’d flip.

  I move away from him and grab a donut to munch on while he chats with his mom. This is the right time to tell him, it has to be.

  “I’ve gotta run,” Jared says, standing up quickly from the couch after he ends the call.