She took it without meeting his eyes and twisted off the lid. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed some quotes on the wedding for my feature.”
She rolled her eyes. “What wedding?”
It felt like the beanbag landed directly center on his gut. “Nathan bailed?” Anger flared. What a jerk. He ought to—
“No. I did.” Casey’s voice broke, and her hand trembled as she took a sip of water.
Gerard pinched the bridge of his nose. Women. Still making zero sense. “So why are you reaming beanbags at travel writers if it’s your own choice?”
“Because it’s stupid. All of it.” Casey sniffled, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Her fingers came away black, and she stared at them as if they weren’t hers.
Weddings were dumb. He’d give her that. But she and Nathan . . . that didn’t add up. “Did he do something?” He hoped she’d know what he meant so he wouldn’t have to spell it out.
“No.” She shook her head quickly, her curlers shaking. “He’d never cheat on me.”
Never say never, but thankfully that wasn’t the issue today, at least. “Where are the kids?”
“With my family, running last-minute wedding errands. They were trying to give me a break before everything started this afternoon so I could get ready in peace. But Nathan came by, and we started arguing . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Gerard shifted his weight to his other leg. He should get Bri. He really didn’t know how to fix this—or if he even should. He suddenly had the urge to go back to the church and snag a slice of that peace he’d left behind. Guess that had been a useless errand. There wouldn’t be vows to exchange from the looks of it.
Unless . . .
He sighed. “Okay. Give me the CliffsNotes.” He couldn’t believe he was actually inviting details from an alien bride. But something about those makeup smudges tugged at his empathy. Maybe he could reassure her that she was making the right decision to call it off.
Because at the moment, she didn’t look all that convinced.
Her eyes filled with instant tears. “We just don’t even know each other. It’s never going to work.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”
Her brow furrowed. “I thought you were trying to help.”
He shrugged. “Odds are, it might not work. You haven’t known each other that long. I’m sure there are stats on that kind of thing, right?” Stats. Data. Those were always the things he could depend on. Feelings came and went, but facts were hard and true. The sooner Casey learned that, the better.
“I didn’t even know what flavor cake he wanted.”
He blinked twice. “Cake?”
“For the groom’s cake.”
He waited. But she didn’t explain any further. “Okay?”
Casey rolled her eyes, as if it was his fault he wasn’t tracking with her. “Bri is handling the petit-four tower, which is technically the bride’s cake, right? Well, the chief at the fire station offered to do a fireman-themed cake as a wedding gift and asked me what flavor Nathan wanted.” Her eyes welled again.
“And?” It was like pulling teeth. From a dragon.
“And I told him strawberry.” She bit her lower lip, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her look before. In their few interactions, she’d been confident, beaming. In love.
He was still missing a step. “And he wanted . . . what? Chocolate?”
“See! Even you knew and I didn’t!” She railed back her water bottle with that Nolan Ryan arm of hers.
“Easy there, Zilla.” He pried it from her hand before she could release it and set her back against the doorframe. “It’s just cake.”
“Zilla?”
“Bridezilla.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Better to be mad at me than the groom.” The poor groom. What in the world was Nathan thinking right now? The bride bailing a few hours before the ceremony because of cake?
He ran his hand over the scruff on his chin, a dozen thoughts vying for first place in his mind. Maybe it would be best to call off the wedding. Save her—and her girls—some heartache later on. And Nathan too, for that matter.
An image of Kelsey shot through his mind, and this time, the residual wave of anger and regret didn’t follow. In fact, all he could think about was Bri.
His mouth dried. “Hear me out, okay?”
Casey nodded, her red-rimmed eyes averted.
“I don’t go for this kind of thing. Love, romance, weddings.” He shuddered. “It’s not my game. I’m the first one to say, ‘Hey, don’t do it.’”
Her gaze darted to his, hope and despair warring in her eyes. “You think I made the right decision?”
“I’m telling you, I’m not usually the guy to ask. I’d steer people away from marriage in a heartbeat. It’s just not realistic for today’s society.” Hadn’t his mom shown him that? Hadn’t Kelsey? Hadn’t every headline in Hollywood?
Casey started to tear up again. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, cutting her off. “And what I’m telling you is—marry Nathan.”
Hope flooded her weary, makeup-streaked face. “You really think?”
“That’s part of the fun of a relationship, right?” If relationships should be classified as such. Then he shook his head briefly to clear the temptation to dive into the past. This wasn’t about Kelsey, this was about Casey. And she and Nathan were different—anyone could see that. “Taking time to discover someone is a good thing. You guys are just going to be doing that while you’re married, is all.”
“Maybe.” She gnawed on her lower lip, relief dotting her expression. “So, it’s just cake, right? One more discovery?”
“Exactly.” He released her, giving her an awkward, obligatory pat on the arm. “Don’t worry. You guys put the stats to shame.”
Before he could stop her, she flung herself against him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled. “I think I just needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. It’s been so overwhelming.” Her tears soaked his sleeve. “I can’t wait to tell Nathan.”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
Gerard looked up at the agitated male voice sounding to his right.
Turned out he wasn’t as good at dodging fists as he was beanbags.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Bri sank into one of the few empty folding chairs, the arches of her feet throbbing in her high-heel pumps she’d worn for the better part of the evening. Her lower back ached, too, along with a tension headache forming behind her eyes. But it’d been worth it. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Pastor John had led a moving ceremony that had everyone dabbing their eyes. The announcement kiss had been a wolf-whistler, and the toddler girls had behaved themselves perfectly—short of one mini-tantrum during the unity candle lighting.
Now, Casey glowed as she danced in Nathan’s arms, the fabric of her dress swishing like a bell over the top of her shoes. At the side of the dance floor, which had been formed to the left of the gazebo where they’d said their vows, her daughters painted each other’s faces with cake icing, giggling as they clutched their mini-bouquets in their free hands. Guests milled about in their Sunday dresses, sipping golden punch from the table set up under the decorated arch. The entire fire department had shown up in uniform to support their brother, some with radios strapped to their belts to keep an ear out for calls. The fire truck was parked in front of the bakery on the street, ready to go just in case—which had been a big hit with the kids.
So far, the night, decorated with sheer fabric and twinkling stars and tiki torches, couldn’t have gone any better. But Bri still couldn’t shake the constant edge of nausea gnawing at her stomach. Every time she started to enjoy the evening, the mental image of that yellowed photo in her mother’s trunk took center stage, and she was right back to reminding herself to breathe evenly. This wasn’t the time to process her discovery. This was Casey’s night, and she deserve
d for everything to go perfectly.
Speaking of which . . . Bri snuck a harried peek over her shoulder at the dessert table. The petit fours were being consumed at a steady pace, but it didn’t look like she needed to grab any refills from the kitchen yet.
“Stop it.”
Bri looked up in surprise as Gerard dropped into the chair next to her. He filled the space with authority, the broad width of his shoulders filling out a gray dress shirt that lightened his eyes.
She swallowed, hating his proximity and the way it affected her, yet overwhelmed with the urge to lean into his strength. She crossed her arms instead. “Stop what?”
“Stressing. It’s over. You did it—she’s hitched.” He angled toward her in his chair, hooking his arm over the back. “Now, breathe, Cupcake.” He shot her a wink, and her stomach tripped.
She looked away, back at the happy couple twirling on the dance floor. Nathan leaned in close to hear something Casey said, then tilted his head back and laughed. The joy in his expression made her want to cry happy tears for her friend.
Or maybe they were more like tears in general.
She forced a smile. “I’m keeping an eye on the petit fours.”
“I know. Like I said, stop it.” He was watching her, she could feel it, his eyes boring into her profile.
A random bout of self-consciousness hit her, and she tugged slightly at the hem of her dress—a pale pink sheath that hit right above her knees and went perfectly with the cream pumps currently threatening to murder her toes one by one. She hadn’t stopped long enough earlier to decide if she felt pretty, but with Gerard staring at her like that, she suddenly really wanted to know.
These waters were way too dangerous to tread in her condition. Maybe she’d go grab those petit fours after all and squeeze them into the half-full trays.
Which reminded her. She twisted in her seat and squinted at Gerard. “How many petit fours did you eat tonight?”
Now he stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. “Two.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, four.”
“Gerard.” She lowered her tone in warning.
“Fine, I lost count after six. Don’t judge.”
A reluctant grin escaped, along with a bit of tension from her shoulders. Here she was, in the most romantic setting possible, depressed over love, and Gerard of all people was the one cheering her up. She’d definitely fallen into some kind of rabbit hole. Alice would probably appear in a moment, flanked by two playing cards and a giant teacup.
The DJ hired for the night turned on a new song, a slow country ballad. She swung her foot to the beat, determined to salvage the evening as best as possible and keep all intruding thoughts at bay.
Gerard glanced at her, and the remaining teasing light from their petit-four banter faded into something different. Something slightly more somber but just as genuine. “Would you like to dance?”
Her foot stilled. Dance. With Gerard?
She pressed her lips together, tasting the lingering remains of her cranberry gloss. “Sure.” Did he hear the hesitation in her voice? Did he have any idea what might happen if Mabel and Agnes saw them? Or Casey, for that matter.
Or what might happen if she allowed herself to wrap her arms around those broad shoulders?
They stood at the same time, and she breathed a prayer as she followed him onto the dance floor, her eyes trained safely on the back of his dress shirt.
But no, that wasn’t safe at all, was it?
He stopped toward one side of the floor, where they could participate but be somewhat more inconspicuous. Maybe he was thinking about Mabel and Agnes, after all.
He opened his hand to her, and she slowly placed hers in his, wishing she’d had time to touch up her nails in the frenzy of the weekend. Then she realized Gerard wouldn’t notice anyway, and why did she even care if he did?
Then they were swaying, the music competing with her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears. The scent of evergreen wafted over her, mixed with the slight tang of cinnamon on his breath. She willed her palms not to sweat, unable to help but notice how calm Gerard seemed. Like he wasn’t having any reaction to her at all.
Disappointment knocked, but she refused to answer. It was better that way. Just keep things nice and platonic. Simple. He’d almost kissed her twice yet hadn’t, which was more than enough evidence of where he stood—and where she should be standing. Love was an illusion anyway. Her parents were showing her that with each passing memory she revisited.
Her throat tightened. She had to change the subject, fast. Forget her dreams for the future, forget the feel of his hand lightly grazing her lower back. She should focus on Casey, a few couples away, laughing with Nathan. Focus on the squeal of children running for yet another petit four, on the upcoming garter toss, on Mr. Hansen pouring a glass of punch for Agnes, who fussed over the spilled drops on the white tablecloth.
Focus on anything except the dimple in this man’s jaw. “I heard how you saved the wedding.”
His lips tilted up in the corners. “That I did.”
She couldn’t let him get too prideful. “And how Nathan almost gave you a black eye.”
Gerard nodded again, slower this time. “That he did.”
She risked looking closer. Faint hints of purple lingered in the edges of his eye and in the corner by his nose. That could have been a lot worse. “He felt awful after, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, it just looked bad, him walking in on a hug with no context. We’ve shaken hands. It’s all fine.”
“Casey said it was pretty heroic.”
He smirked. “Who? Me or Nathan?”
“Both of you.” She tilted her head to the side, remembering Casey’s enthusiastic reenactment of the event, complete with accents and hand gestures. “In fact, she said you were sweet.”
He winced. “I’ll make sure to get my publicity manager on that right away.”
Bri laughed, another layer of tension sloughing off her back. “Don’t bother. No one would believe it for a minute.” But it had been sweet, him stepping in like that. Sweet—and totally out of character.
Which begged the question. “Why’d you do it?” She lowered her voice as the song switched to one of her favorites, a slow number about magnolias and near kisses and a man watching his true love get married to someone else. “I mean, that was your chance, right? To beef up the army on your side of the line?”
He continued to sway with her. “What line is that?”
“The ‘love is a sham’ line.”
He spun her out in a slow circle and drew her back. His hand settled comfortably on her hip, warm through the thin material of her dress. “I never said it was a sham.”
“Love is a lie?”
“Okay, I might have said that.”
“Well, you’d have been right.”
The pressure of his fingers intensified as he adjusted his touch. Chills cascaded up her spine. “Come on, now, Cupcake. You don’t mean that.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Did she? She didn’t know what she felt anymore, except hurt. Confused. Betrayed. The lyrics pulsed around her, a heartbreaking poem of love never acquired. “I think I do.”
“What happened? Did someone ask for a refund on their love lock?”
She rolled her eyes, even as her fingers tightened involuntarily against his bicep. “No.”
He lightly spun her away from him, and her thoughts whirled in unison with her legs. He pulled her back in and she took a shaky breath. “It’s my parents.”
He spun her again, double this time. “Your parents?”
“I think my mom had an affair.” She collided back hard against his chest.
“What?” His eyes widened and his grip tightened around her. “When?”
She shook her head, emotion balling in her throat. Tears pricked and she clung to his shirt like a life preserver, staring at the button smushed between her fingers. No. She couldn’t break down here.
/> The scent of laundry detergent and evergreen drifted over her like a cologne. Gerard’s cologne. Dancing couples and tiki torches dimmed in her peripheral, and suddenly she was aware of only him. Of his heart thumping under her hand. Of his cinnamon breath and the dark scruff on his jawline and the thrill of his hands around her waist, holding her as if they belonged there.
As if she belonged with him.
A few painful heartbeats passed, then he lowered his head, his breath warm and his words low in her ear. “Come on, Cupcake. Don’t lose it.”
Lose what? Control? Dignity?
Her mind?
She looked up at him, questioning, their faces inches apart. She needed to breathe but forgot how. Their swaying all but stilled as the music and the joyful wedding crowd continued around them.
“Don’t lose the best part of you. Your faith.”
Faith. In God? In love? Were they connected at this point? She didn’t feel connected to anything anymore.
And then it hit her, another memory. Of her parents, slow dancing in the kitchen while tears streamed down her father’s cheeks.
Her chest tightened. No. That couldn’t be real. But more details flooded her mind, convincing her otherwise. The crack in the cabinet behind her father’s head that looked exactly like a lightning bolt. The feel of the cool tile under her thin shorts as she spied from the corner of the kitchen, hidden by the doorframe. She’d always loved to watch her mom twirl, as she’d called it. But they weren’t twirling this time. Just holding each other and swaying.
Like Gerard was doing with her now.
Bri tensed, the sights and sounds of the reception morphing into one big blur. Anxiety took over, filling her mind and her mouth with cotton. She felt Gerard’s arms still holding her close, firm yet gentle, but it was like looking through a distorted mirror. All reflection, no contact.
An overwhelmingly lonely sensation washed over her from head to toe. She was falling for Gerard. Her prince had finally come—on the same night she discovered love didn’t exist.
She couldn’t breathe. Needed to scream. Wanted to hide.
She tore free of his grip, hating how easy it was to do so. He didn’t fight to hold on, which only proved her greatest fears. “I’ve got to go.” She stepped backward, farther from his outstretched hand. If her parents’ love hadn’t been real, maybe there was no such thing.
The Key to Love Page 19