“Gorgeous,” Simone says with tears in her eyes. “Just beautiful.”
“Congratulations, Fiona,” Candice says, just as teary as Simone.
Jen adjusts the hem of my dress, then squeezes my arm.
Trina stands off to the side, as if she doesn’t feel like she belongs. What she doesn’t understand (yet) is that she’s one of us. She gives me a smile and a nod. “You look incredible, Fiona.”
“Thank you for helping with everyone’s outfit, Trina. We wouldn’t look half as good as we do without you.” I smile at her, then glance at everyone’s outfits. I didn’t want to make them buy bridesmaids dresses they’d never wear again, so I just told them to wear something with green in it. It’s festive, but still classic. Trina knocked it out of the park.
Simone is wearing a fitted, deep-forest-green dress with matching heels. The tailoring on the dress is exquisite, with each seam hugging her curves like it was made for her. A square neckline gives it a sophisticated air, and Trina added a delicate gold chain to set off the look. Simone’s red hair looks insanely vibrant against the color of the dress, swept up in a mess of curls with tendrils framing her face.
Jen looks ah-mazing. She’s wearing a dark-green skirt-and-top set. The crewneck, short-sleeved top fits her perfectly, and the skirt is high-waisted and hits her mid-calf. She looks like a 1950’s queen.
Candice opted for a fluttery dress with a nipped waist and a plunging neckline.
Trina was surprised when I told her I wanted her in green as well. She went with straight, wide-leg pants in a rich, emerald color, combined with that fitted white bodysuit with the low back. She’s wearing green earrings, and her bangs, which have grown out to frame her face really beautifully, look awesome. The woman could put on a paper bag and look like she just walked off a runway.
Finally, I let my eyes land on Clancy. My soon-to-be stepdaughter is wearing a dress cut similarly to mine, hitting her mid-calf with the same Bardot neckline, but hers is cut in green silk. She looks so beautiful it makes my heart hurt. I’ve been so lucky to be able to spend the last couple of years with her, and I spread my arms for a hug.
Clancy’s lip wobbles as she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight before pulling away and readjusting my veil. “I’m happy you’ll officially be my stepmom, Fiona.”
“Me too.” My voice is choked with emotion, and I accept a tissue from Jen to dab at my eyes before I ruin my makeup.
Looking over my closest friends, I let out a little squeal and spread my arms. I’m marrying the man of my dreams. I’m living my dream, and Clancy will officially be my stepdaughter by the end of the afternoon.
But this matters too. My girlfriends—the women who built me back up and gave me a purpose in Heart’s Cove with the Four Cups Café and everything that goes along with it.
“I’m ready,” I announce.
“I’ll let them know,” Jen says, leaning over to tick something off on her tablet. Without me asking, she took over the organization of the day, applying the military precision she uses in baking to making sure everything went off without a hitch.
I love these women.
The venue is mostly exposed brick, with rich oak flooring throughout. The main ceremony will happen in a room just off the reception hall, with chairs set up in neat rows and an organza archway to serve as the altar. I stand just outside of it, breathing hard, with a sudden explosion of butterflies in my stomach. I smile as Simone gives me one last hug, then heads into the room.
When I asked Simone if she’d consider being our wedding officiant, seeing as she’s the one who brought me to Heart’s Cove and pushed me to stay with Grant, she burst into tears, then immediately went online to figure out how to apply for her license.
Jen gets our attention as Grant’s groomsmen appear—Wes, Fallon, and even Mr. Cheswick, the man who first introduced him to woodworking many years ago—and lines everyone up, then thrusts a bouquet of flowers in my hands. Then, the most beautiful minutes of my life pass as I walk down the aisle toward Grant, more than ready to be his wife.
The thing is, it feels like the first time. I know I’ve been married and divorced already, but this feels so right that everything that came before pales in comparison. As our procession walks down the aisle, I can’t keep my eyes off Grant. The man looks like he was born to wear a tux. He stands tall next to Simone as tears fill his eyes and a smile spreads wide across his face.
We take our places, and in a short, sweet ceremony, my best friend marries me to the man of my dreams in front of all the people who matter most to me.
When Simone gives us the go-ahead to kiss, Grant bands a strong arm across my back and tugs me close. “I love you so much, Fiona,” he says in a gravelly voice, then kisses me like no one is watching.
When the shrieks and hollers get too much, we fall apart, head next door to the reception hall, and start to party.
I feel so incredibly lucky. The food is divine—overseen by a hawk-eyed Jen—and every single speech leaves me a sobbing mess. Especially Clancy’s. When she showed up on Grant’s doorstep, I never thought we’d end up here. I know step-relationships can be tough, but the two of us have carved out a perfect relationship that’s as close to mother-daughter as it could be.
And when Grant takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor for our first dance, I rest my head on his shoulder and let all my happiness buoy me. Grant chose our song, and as we sway, I listen to the words of “I Found You” by Alabama Shakes and feel love permeate every bit of me. It’s bluesy, soulful, and it makes me cry.
Then we break apart, and Simone, Candice, Jen, Clancy, and Trina are there to hug and dance and cheer with me. I cry so much I must look like a mess, but I don’t care. I’m married to the man of my dreams, my wedding has been perfect, and all the people I care about most are here to celebrate.
After speeches and dinner, there’s cake. Jen made a delicious three-tiered cake with alternating chocolate and vanilla layers, chocolate ganache and raspberry fillings, and the most delicate sugar work I’ve ever seen to decorate it. It’s the perfect cake for a beautiful wedding.
I’ve never been happier.
34
Trina
I can tell by the look on Katie’s face that’s she’s tired and on the verge of dipping into Tantrum Land. So, weaving through the multitude of wedding guests to a table near the front of the room, I find Fiona and Grant and offer them one last congratulations, then gather my kids up and head for the door.
I feel…light. Seeing Fiona and Grant together, Candice and Blake, Simone and Wes—it made me think about myself, and how there could be hope for me too. It made me feel like divorcing Kevin was absolutely the right decision, since there’s no way he’s in the same league as the men in this room.
I try not to think of Mac. He was just a rebound, and I need to focus on myself. I have been focusing on myself, and I’ve been happier than ever.
On my way out of the room, I pass Margaret and her plus one, Hamish, arm in arm on the dance floor. Margaret gives me a smile while Hamish winks, and I try to ignore the squeezing in my chest at the sight of them. I haven’t been back to the Cedar Grove since our girls’ night, and I have no plan to go back any time soon. My future as a pool shark is unfortunately dead in the water.
Loading up the kids into the back of my old car, I give Katie a kiss on the forehead and glance over to make sure Toby has his seatbelt on. He’s latched in and already leaning against the window, fast asleep. Maybe I should have left earlier, but I have to admit, I was having fun.
Fiona’s wedding was laid-back, but so beautiful it made more than a few eyes in the room teary. With the past month being one long marathon of after-school activities and Mom Duties, not to mention the exhilaration of actually pursuing a career as a stylist, today was a welcome relief. It was more than a wedding, really. It was everyone coming together in a celebration of love and friendship. It made me realize just how easily I’ve been accepted into this little community.
And I hadn’t realized how much I needed that. I hadn’t realized how isolated I’d felt with Kevin, and how difficult the decision to leave had been. It felt like I was walking out into the void, with no idea if there was even a floor under my next step.
I’ve discovered more than a floor. Divorcing Kevin and moving to this town has been like stepping into a whole new world full of friendship and light and laughter.
So things with Mac didn’t work out. That’s okay—or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. It was too soon for me to be with a man, anyway. I need to work on myself, focus on my kids.
The engine struggles to turn over a few times, but finally my car starts. I use the window wipers to clear a few fat snowflakes off the windscreen and blast the heat. The wedding venue is about a half hour drive out of town, and seeing as I live on the opposite side, I should be home in forty minutes. I turn onto the road and flick my lights on in the darkness, settling in for the drive.
The kids are asleep in the back, and I let out a long sigh.
I can do this.
The thought zings through me, and for the first time, I actually believe myself. I can raise my kids. I can navigate the complicated relationship I have with Kevin. I can make sure Toby and Katie end up as happy and well-adjusted as possible.
And I can be a stylist. I can pursue things I want.
Just when a smile starts curling my lips, headlights illuminating a triangle of pavement in the dark of the winding road, my car starts to clunk. A rattling noise soon joins it and, frowning, I glance down to see the check-engine light flashing angrily at me.
Uh-oh.
I’m only about halfway home, in the middle of the woods, with two exhausted kids in the back seat. I’m not even sure anywhere would be safe to stop. Squeezing the steering wheel, I will my car to make it back to town.
It doesn’t work.
After another mile, the clunking gets louder and louder until it finally stops…along with the rest of the engine. Biting back a curse, I navigate the car onto the shoulder and turn on my hazard lights, checking the mirror for traffic behind me.
I’m stuck in a gentle bend in the road with dark forest all around, with no traffic lights and limited visibility. The snow is still falling—melting when it hits the pavement, but how long till it starts to stick? This isn’t safe. Visions of a semi-truck smashing into the back of my car fill my head, until I take a deep breath and try the ignition again.
Nothing. My car is completely dead.
Pawing my purse in the passenger seat, I find my phone and unlock it, heart pounding. Do I call a taxi? A tow truck? My mother?
With a deep breath, I close my eyes and try to relax.
I can do this. Wasn’t it just a few minutes ago that I felt sure I could take on the world? This is nothing. This is a hiccup. A blip.
“Why are we stopped, Mommy?” Katie’s sleepy voice comes from the back seat.
“Everything’s okay, honey,” I tell her. “I just need some help with the car.”
“Is it broken?”
“It’s no problem, Katie. Close your eyes. I’m getting us help. You can go back to sleep.”
Katie, of course, doesn’t go to sleep. She sits up and pokes her brother until he blinks awake in confusion. “Where are we?”
“We’re nearly home,” I tell him. “I just need to make a phone call.”
When I step outside, there’s a definite bite to the air. I face the direction we came, trying to dispel the fear of someone crashing into us.
No, it’s fine. We’re well off the shoulder, I’ve got my hazards on, and everything will be fine. I’ve stopped in as safe a place as I can manage. I take a deep breath and tamp down the panic rising inside me.
This is fine. I’m capable. I’m a strong woman. Accidents and crises will be thrown at me for the rest of my life, and I made a decision to face them alone. It’s a broken-down car, that’s all. Everything will be okay.
Glancing at my phone, I make a decision. I pull up my web browser and send a silent thank you to whatever cell phone provider made sure this particular patch of land had service. Then I look up a tow truck company. I wipe a little dot of water from a melted snowflake off my screen and find the phone number.
My plan is to get the car towed and call a taxi after, so I can take the kids straight home. I’ll deal with the car tomorrow.
The closest result for a tow truck company is familiar—it’s Remy’s garage, the man who fixed up my tire and serviced my car back in August. I briefly consider calling someone else, but my kids are more important than my pride. So what if Mac hears about this? Who cares?
“Remy,” comes the gruff voice on the phone after one short ring.
“Um, yes, hello,” I start, pacing back and forth on the gravel shoulder. “I need a tow truck. Or maybe just a jump or something, I’m not sure. My car broke down while driving and now it won’t start.”
There’s shuffling on the phone, and a noise in the background goes silent. “Where are you?”
“I’m just outside Heart’s Cove, on Seaview Drive. About…twenty minutes from the cannery? I’m in the woods.”
Remy grunts. “All right. I can be there in fifteen. Name?”
“My name is Trina. Katrina Viceroy.”
“That hunk of junk finally gave out on you, huh,” comes Remy’s reply, followed by a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”
I let out a long breath and close my eyes for a moment. “Thank you.”
“You on your own?”
“My two kids are here.”
He grunts. “Hang tight. I’ll organize a ride for the three of you back to town.”
“Thank you,” I repeat in a low whisper. I don’t know why it’s such a relief to not have to organize a taxi. It would be simple—one more phone call—but having it taken off my plate feels like a weight off my shoulders. Yes, I’m strong and capable, but I’m also stretched thin.
We hang up, and I slide back into the car.
“What’s going on?” Toby asks, his hand reaching to rest on the edge of my seat.
“The tow truck will be here soon.”
“A tow truck?” Toby asks, straightening. When I nod, a smile tugs at his lips. “Cool.”
Chuckling, I lean my head against the headrest and ask my kids if they enjoyed the wedding. Katie tells me about all her favorite dresses (Jen and Simone’s) and how she saw Grant crying when he spotted Fiona. Toby regales us, in great detail, with his thoughts on the food. We’ve barely been talking ten minutes when I see two sets of headlights coming from the direction of Heart’s Cove. The front car gives two little honks, and I smile when I see the tow truck drive past. Thank goodness.
The car behind it is a pickup truck, but I don’t get a chance to have a good look at it. The two vehicles pass us, then reappear a few minutes later heading in the same direction as us, having turned around somewhere safe down the road. When the tow truck pulls up in front of my car, I smile at the kids and tell Toby to open his door and step out.
“Katie, you go out on Toby’s side. I don’t want you walking out on the road.”
She shuffles across the back seat without protest, and pretty soon the three of us are standing beside the car as Remy exits the tow truck and calls out a hello. “Bad place to break down,” he says, heading for the back of the tow truck. The snow has changed to a misty, wet drizzle, the cold seeping in through my jacket.
“Tell me about it,” I answer, then put my hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Give Remy some space to work, honey.”
“But I want to watch!”
“Listen to your mother,” comes a different voice from behind me.
My eyes widen at the sound of it, and I freeze—but Katie doesn’t.
“Mr. Blair!” she cries. “What are you doing here? Our car isn’t working. It stopped right here in the middle of the road and Mommy called for the tow truck.”
Spinning slowly, I try to stop my heart from giving ou
t.
Mac is striding toward us, a soft smile on his lips pointed at Katie. “I heard. I’m here to take you home.”
“You are?” Katie’s head tilts to the side, and she glances at me. “Why is Mr. Blair taking us home?”
My throat is drier than it’s ever been. I still have one hand on Toby’s shoulder, who’s busy watching Remy hitch the car up to the back of the tow truck. Katie’s hand is in mine, but she’s tugging at it to get my attention.
“Did you call Mr. Blair, Mommy?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s Remy’s friend. He’s doing us a favor.” Finally, I let my eyes climb up to meet Mac’s.
It’s been nearly three weeks since that parent-teacher conference, and I thought I was over him. I’d been so busy with the kids and school and the business that I convinced myself he was a rebound, and whatever happened between us was casual. Fleeting.
Well, it feels like the furthest thing from fleeting right now. It feels like my whole body has turned electric.
“You okay?” Mac asks softly, and I can hardly take it. That voice, when it’s sweet and caring, undoes something that I’ve always tried to lock in the depths of my heart.
Unable to make my voice work, I just nod. Then I clear my throat. “You didn’t have to come here.”
“I was at Remy’s place when you called,” he explains. “I wasn’t going to leave you stranded.”
“All done,” Remy says. “You got everything you need from the car?”
“Um…” I glance in the windows, then open the door to grab my purse. The back seat is empty, so I close the door and nod to Remy. “All good.”
“Come on, Katie,” Mac says, gesturing to his pickup. “Let’s get you home.”
“Do you have a tow truck too, Mr. Blair?”
Mac chuckles as I slip my arm around Toby’s shoulders to guide him to the waiting truck. “No,” he says. “I’m just helping someone I care about.”
Dirty Little Midlife Disaster: A Motorcycle Hottie Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 4) Page 22