Then Comes Love (Blue Harbor Book 6)

by Olivia Miles

  “Now that is an offer I won’t argue with.” Howard laughed.

  Doug made some headway on the counter and loaded up the dishwasher by the time his father had transferred the paella to a large serving bowl. Doug grabbed two bottles of wine—one white, one red—and carried them into the dining room, just in time to hear the tail end of a conversation that was unabashedly about his true reasons for coming back.

  Or at least, part of them. Still, he knew that if he and Lisa had stayed together—if their four-year relationship hadn’t come to an abrupt end—he probably wouldn’t have been so willing to pack up his belongings and move back to his hometown.

  Silver linings, he told himself. Or fate. Either way, the message was clear. He was single, and he was staying that way.

  “We’re just worried about you,” his mother said, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

  “Nothing to be worried about here.” He forced a smile as he uncorked the first bottle. “I’m happy to be back. When was the last time I got to spend your birthday with you like this?”

  Too long, that much was true. He came back at least once a year, usually around the holidays, sent lavish gifts when he couldn’t, but there was always his work to keep him busy, and his paid vacation days usually went towards just that—vacation. He’d thought they’d had fun, he and Lisa, on their ski trips and beach getaways. Had the fun just ended, or had it never been there at all?

  He swallowed hard, thinking of the final conversation he’d had with Lisa when she’d made everything so shockingly clear that there was no room for conversation. Nothing to do but walk away. Or in his case, move away.

  “Besides,” he said, jutting his chin at his kid brother. “I haven’t heard anything exciting about your love life in a while.”

  His brother just shook his head. Like Doug, he’d been quiet in school, focused on his studies, but he was also shyer by nature and somehow that gave him a free pass when it came to conversations like this. Besides, he hadn’t just ended an engagement either. Doug supposed it was inevitable. It was a hot topic. Eventually, it would fade away, and sooner rather than later.

  “At least I’ll have someone joining me at the singles table tomorrow,” Justin said, helping himself to a glass of Cabernet. Their mother poured white wine for herself.

  Doug stifled a groan. He’d nearly forgotten about the wedding he’d agreed to attend tomorrow. Was it late June already? Strange to think he’d been back in town a full month now. In some ways, it felt like he’d just returned, and in other ways, like he’d never left.

  “Now don’t groan,” his mother said, as she spooned some of the rice onto her plate. “You always loved weddings. And the Donaldsons were such nice people. You boys looked forward to them renting out the cottage down the street every single summer. Of course, I did always think it might be one of you who ended up with their daughter, but… Well.”

  Doug and Justin exchanged a glance. “I’m not much of a wedding person these days.”

  “Shame. I seem to remember you looking so forward to my brother William’s wedding…”

  “When I was eight,” Doug replied, remembering his uncle’s reception, where he’d first discovered the joy of a DJ and a dance floor. Now the thought of dancing appealed to him about as much as the thought of the singles table.

  “Well, don’t get mad, but when I knew you were coming home, I RSVP’d for all of us to attend the Yates wedding next weekend.” She paused when she caught the sharp look he gave her. “They’ve been our neighbors for all our married life. You boys used to go swimming with Anthony! Besides, we were all on the invitation.”

  “What am I, twelve?” He shook his head. He should have known that this was what came with returning to his hometown.

  “They were just being inclusive,” his mother insisted. “And invitations are expensive. The bride’s family is paying, and I know they’re on a budget.”

  Yes, invitations were expensive, and he knew that from firsthand experience.

  “Fine,” he said, seeing little room for argument. That would make three weddings in a row when he factored in the client who had invited him to his nuptials two weeks from now. He was hardly in a position to say no, especially when he was trying to build his law practice in this town from scratch.

  “And keep your calendar open for three weeks from tomorrow.”

  Make that four weddings in a row. “Who is it this time?”

  Across the table, he heard Justin laugh, but his mother just pressed her lips together. “You remember my friend Dorothy. It’s her youngest’s day—her last wedding. How could we say no?”

  Dorothy had been an old childhood friend of his mother’s, Doug knew. There would be no getting out of this one.

  His mother gave a little smile. “Maybe you’ll be surprised. You might end up having a better time than you think.”

  More like he might meet someone, at least that was what her eyes were telling him.

  Doug took a long sip from his wineglass. He’d had enough surprises for one year, if not a lifetime, and if his mother was insinuating that he might settle down, or even start dating any time soon, she was sorely mistaken. If it wasn’t her birthday he’d tell her so, too, but seeing as it was, he let it pass, along with the weddings he’d be attending tomorrow and next Saturday, and the Saturday after that. And…oh, he couldn’t even think about it.

  His mother’s heart was in the right place, he knew. Always was. She wanted him to be happy. She just didn’t realize that he was happier alone.

  Or, at least, less disappointed.

  He looked over at his mother, who still held his father’s hand, and for a moment, he dared to want what they had, to even believe that it was possible.

  He shook that thought off right away. He knew from firsthand experience that what his parents had was rare, and that he had not been lucky enough to find it.

  Chapter Three

  The Donaldson wedding reception was being held at the Yacht Club, a long-time favorite amongst brides in the county because of its waterfront location and elegant amenities, not to mention the quintessential wood-sided building and lush landscaping. It was also on Gabby’s short-list for whenever her big day finally rolled around.

  Make that if it ever rolled around. Catching her souring mood before it got the better of her, Gabby set the last centerpiece at the head table and stepped back to admire the space under the tent that had been set up right along the water’s edge, making sure that each round table was anchored with an antique vase overflowing with lavender, peonies, and roses in soft purple, cream, and pink.

  She sighed because she just couldn’t help herself. This was a perfectly romantic wedding in the most traditional sense. The bride’s bouquet was bound by a simple ivory velvet ribbon, and Gabby had hung a cone of lavender from each church pew earlier in the day. The reception tables were draped in ivory clothes, and the gilded chairs were the perfect complement to the vases.

  In the distance, she heard the ringing of the bells, and the cheer that went up as no doubt the newly official bride and groom emerged from the double doors to be greeted by their guests.

  She felt her eyes mist just imagining the thrill of that moment, the gauzy veil trailing behind her, catching in the wind as she stopped to kiss her husband on the church steps. She blinked, forcing herself to the present. She was getting swept away, just like Brooke had accused her of doing. Maybe she did read too many romance novels. It was just that lately, they were the only place she seemed to find any romance.

  Quickly, she turned the centerpiece on the head table for optimal display. She was not a true guest at this wedding, much less the bride. She was the florist, and right now she estimated that she had about fifteen minutes before people made their way over to the reception, eager for a glass of cold champagne.

  She could certainly do with one herself, but not right now. Right now, she needed to make her rounds, ensure that everything was accounted for, so that the bride was just as thrilled walki
ng into the tent as she had been when she’d walked down the aisle.

  Her mother had helped out with the earlier part of the day—dropping off the bouquets and boutonnieres for the wedding party, and getting a start on the reception while Gabby finished decorating the church. But now Gabby was down to the final touches, and she’d sent her mother home to relax—not because she couldn’t have used the extra hands, but because she enjoyed keeping this task to herself.

  She walked a perimeter around the grounds, keeping an eye out for a stray leaf or limp bloom, stopping here and there to give the petals a quick spritz. The guests were starting to arrive. She knew from experience that they’d enjoy the cocktail reception while the bridal party was busy with the photographers, probably on the dock with the lake behind them, Evening Island visible in the distance. Gabby always dressed for the event while she set up, so she would blend in if anyone arrived early. Today had been warm, not a cloud could be seen in the blue sky that would soon enough start to change into a glorious sunset, and even though the lake effect could stir up a cool breeze when you least expected it, she was pleasantly warm in her grass green shift dress.

  She stepped back from the last arrangement she had shifted three inches to the right and rotated by forty-five degrees, her heel catching on something that made her nearly lose her footing.

  “Woah, there,” a deep voice rumbled directly behind her as a hand met her elbow.

  Gabby turned to see none other than Doug Monroe, standing right behind her, his dark eyes gleaming as they locked with hers.

  She pressed her lips together and stepped away. “I didn’t see you there.”

  Because if she had, she would have run. Or at least speed-walked away. So this was what she got for caring too much about her arrangements. Another tête-à-tête with the local know-it-all.

  “I didn’t realize that was you,” he was sure to say.

  Something he didn’t know? She was surprised he’d so casually admit it!

  He held up a place card, saying ruefully. “Table twelve it is. You?”

  Here she breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just the florist,” she said tightly, sure to accentuate the word just to make sure he understood where she stood with his comments yesterday.

  “You’re not staying?” His eyebrows shot up in a way that made her wonder if he was truly disappointed by this. Or just curious.

  She looked around the tent. Even though Blue Harbor was small, she didn’t know many of the guests personally. She could duck out after the cocktail hour, drive home, slip off her uncomfortable shoes and dress, and settle onto her sofa with a good book and a cold glass of wine. She had only three chapters left in her latest novel, and despite knowing that it would end happily, she wanted to see just how the heroine reached that point.

  Maybe, she could find a few pointers. Or hope, she thought, feeling her shoulders sink a little as she looked over at Doug, who seemed to be frowning now as he studied the name cards at his table.

  “Singles table?” she asked with knowing dread.

  “At least my brother is with me.” Doug picked up a card and studied it. “Though not beside me.”

  He picked up another card and swapped it out. Gabby felt her jaw slip and she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You can’t do that!”

  He looked at her frankly. “Why not?”

  “Well, well, because the bride put thought into that,” Gabby finally said. And it was the bride’s day.

  But Doug just brushed off her concern with a wave. “I don’t think who is sitting beside who at table twelve will be forefront on her mind tonight.”

  True. And Gabby supposed that people swapped places all the time to avoid awkward setups or conversations with nosy relatives. Now she stepped toward him, hoping for a peek of the cards, wondering just what Doug was avoiding. Or whom he was trying to get closer to.

  “And who is that you’re hoping to sit next to tonight?” she asked.

  “You.” His eyes glimmered.

  She pursed her lips. Sometimes she was seated with the wedding coordinator and photographers, who barely had time to sit, much less eat a hot meal. It was a courtesy, the table usually being at the back of the room, but with the brides that she grew to know over time, they liked to make her a proper guest, even if she always felt a sense of duty to them until she was sure that every petal was fresh and perfectly displayed.

  She eyed the empty place card holder, knowing that Doug was watching her, wondering if she’d dare to commit the crime she’d just accused him of, and switch things around to her comfort zone.

  Instead, she forced herself to remember her professional reason for being here, and her polite and handy excuse to leave early. With a faint smile that she hoped masked the tension she felt, she tucked the square of cardstock into its clip and, for lack of anything else to do, accepted a glass of white wine from a waiter.

  There was no denying the wicked grin that passed over Doug’s face when he did the same.

  “You look rather pleased with yourself,” she noted. “Enjoying yourself then?”

  “I’d rather be home. No offense,” he added quickly.

  None taken, at least not coming from the source. Gabby frowned at him, wondering if he meant that. Sure, she was already a little tired just thinking about wedding season, but it was also difficult not to be swept away by the music and the decorations and the festive buzz of the guests.

  “You’d rather be home alone than outside on this beautiful day, with free drinks, good food, and…” She stopped herself, realizing that she was nearly guilty of the very thing she was accusing him of.

  “Weddings aren’t my thing,” he said.

  “Well, they are definitely mine.” She laughed under her breath. They were her bread and butter, really, other than Valentine’s Day, which unfortunately only came once a year.

  “You made all these?” He motioned around the tent, which was starting to fill up as the band began to play. More people were taking their seats, and with any luck, their table would fill soon and they’d be interrupted.

  “That’s my job,” Gabby said, noticing the defensive edge in her tone.

  He must have picked up on it, too, because he leaned forward, close enough for her to see the laugh lines around his eyes that made him almost seem likable. “My mother loved the arrangement you made.”

  Possibly, he was just flattering her, but still, she couldn’t resist the smile that pulled at her mouth. It had been a beautiful bouquet.

  “It was the center of our dinner table,” he added. “She said that all of her favorites were in there.”

  There was no pushing back the swell in her chest. “It’s why I love what I do. There’s nothing better than being in the business of putting a smile on someone’s face when they need it the most. That part never gets old.”

  He gave her a funny look and then lifted his eyebrows. “I never thought of it that way.”

  She wasn’t surprised. Still, she was pleased to see he didn’t try to argue her point. Instead, he just grinned and said, “My mother was certainly smiling, and that was, well, it was nice to see.”

  “Oh, I can’t completely take credit for that,” Gabby said, feeling her shoulders relax a bit. “Your dad pays close attention to what pleases your mother, and he knows what brings her joy. It’s so sweet to see people still in love after so many years of marriage.”

  She sighed, even though she saw Doug’s mouth thin.

  “You don’t agree?” she asked, tipping her head.

  He looked over at the bride and groom, who were making their way into the reception, trailed by the wedding photographer.

  “Sweet, sure. But…it’s rare.”

  Gabby let out a laugh of surprise, even though it wasn’t the least bit funny. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. It’s bad luck at a wedding.”

  “Well, they’ll need luck if they expect to last as long as my parents,” Doug continued.

  Now Gabby’s eyes widened as she l
ooked around, hoping that no one had overheard. “My, aren’t you cynical!”

  “Not cynical,” he replied with an infuriating little shrug. “Just realistic.”

  She firmed her mouth closed, unsure of what to even say to that. Was it so unrealistic to think that people could fall in love, share a life together, one that they’d look back on in their aging years, reliving memories and moments that no one else could?

  “Well, with that attitude, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re sitting at the singles table,” she said haughtily.

  “I suppose I’ll be sitting at one for the rest of my life,” Doug commented.

  Of course. She should have known. “A confirmed bachelor then?”

  She didn’t know why she felt disappointed. Probably because this was why she was always at the singles table. All the good men were taken, and the rest were…confirmed bachelors.

  And even some of the not-so-great ones, she thought, sipping her wine.

  “Absolutely,” he nodded, though he didn’t smile.

  A resigned confirmed bachelor, perhaps. Someone who had given up on love.

  Something that she was very close to doing herself.

  “Well, I suppose we should sit,” Doug said, as the tables around them began to fill.

  Gabby picked up her place card and set it back again. “And why exactly did you want to sit next to me versus anyone else?” She lifted her chin, trying to read the other name cards at the table. A few women who must be out-of-town guests, Doug’s brother, of course. No other men, it would seem, except… Her shoulders dropped as an older man took the seat across the table and grinned at them before reaching for the breadbasket.

  Much too old for her.

  She dropped into her chair, and Doug was silent as a few reasonably attractive women joined them at the table, darting eyes in Doug’s direction. From somewhere behind Gabby, she heard the clearing of a throat, and there, at the table nearest them, was Carol Monroe.

  Gabby jutted her chin at Doug. “I think your mother’s trying to get your attention.”