A Lowcountry Wedding (34 page)

“Frankly, as long as you’re asking, I have to say I wouldn’t mind it.”

Harper moved her head to look up at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Harper, look. It hasn’t been easy moving into this place, knowing it was paid for by you. It’s beyond anything I could afford. Hell, I’m not even paying rent.”

“That’s not true. You’re paying for all the maintenance and household bills. You buy the groceries. It’s an expensive house to maintain.”

“Well, I can afford those ancillary expenses,” he replied flippantly,
“especially since I didn’t even have to buy you a ring.” He picked up her left hand and let his thumb run over the large mine-cut diamond on her ring finger. It had been a gift from Mamaw on her engagement, a ring that Harper had always loved. “Some would say your grandmothers have made my life very easy. I’m sure some think it in not the kindest way, either. But they’d be wrong. I feel like a freeloader.”

“Oh,” Harper said, crestfallen. She didn’t know his feelings about all this ran so strong. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want you to feel I wasn’t grateful or that I was being small-minded. It’s a great house. I just don’t feel like it’s
our
house.”

Harper slid down beside him on the bed and laid her head again on his shoulder. She didn’t want him to see the crushing disappointment on her face. “Maybe we should consider selling,” she said in a choked voice.

“Maybe we should.”

Harper swallowed hard, closing her eyes tight. She’d expected him to counter her offer, to tell her,
No, of course not. This is our home.
Or something along those lines. The thought of selling Sea Breeze, leaving this place she loved, filled her with despair. She moved from his shoulder to her side of the bed, her back to him.

There was no point in trying to deny her true feelings. “I love this house,” she said in a shaky voice. “This is more than just a place to live to me. It’s my touchstone. I have memories here. Family. I spent the past year tending the house and garden with thoughts that it would be our forever home. Where we’d raise this baby, and hopefully others. Where you and I would grow old together.”

For a long time Taylor did not say anything. Then he reached over to turn off his bedside light and settled on his back on his side of the bed.

“Let’s sleep on it,” Taylor said into the darkness. “This is a lot to think about. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Imogene about this whole prenup business.”

“No, I will.”

“No,” Taylor said in a voice that brooked no further discussion. “I will.”

What being a good parent is about—what being a spouse is about—is no longer thinking only of yourself or your self-interests.

T
he month of May had arrived as fast as sand through Carson’s fingers. With Dora’s stalwart support and unfailing advice, Carson and Harper had crossed off items on the to-do list one after the other. Carson was beginning to get into the flow of being a bride. She still hadn’t found her dress, but her goodie bags were done, her hairstyle set, and Blake’s ring was in the safe. She was sitting at her bedroom desk going through today’s mail. The RSVPs were beginning to roll in and most were acceptances—even a few she’d thought would be a no. Apparently Charleston was a destination people wanted to visit, on top of wanting to celebrate with the young couple.

Her phone rang. She reached out to grab it, eyes still on her acceptance list. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Carson Muir?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Hi, Carson, this is Jennifer at the aquarium.”

“Oh!” Carson felt a flutter of excitement. She sat straighter, her attention focused. “Thank you so much for getting back in touch.”

“I’m sorry we kept you waiting. I’m calling you to tell you that after much discussion, we’ve decided to go in a different direction and we won’t be hiring a PR director at this time. You were one of the strongest candidates and we’d like to keep your résumé on file should something else open up. But for now, I’m very sorry that we don’t have a position to offer you.”

Carson listened in a daze as the flow of words floated in one ear and out the other. The only words she fully caught were
I’m sorry.
After that, nothing else mattered. She didn’t get the job.

After several more moments of platitudes, she and Jennifer bid each other a polite good-bye, and Carson dropped her phone on her bed. A moment later, she, too, fell on the bed and covered her face with her palms. She didn’t have a job. No job. She’d waited for several weeks for them to get back to her, fully expecting to be hired. Precious time that she didn’t have, with no other real prospects on the horizon. What was she going to do now?

Without pausing to think, Carson picked her phone back up and dialed the number she knew by heart.

After she hung up the phone, Carson spent an hour staring despondently at her bedroom ceiling, then rinsed her face with cold water and drove to Blake’s apartment on Sullivan’s Island. He was working on a report at home so she knew he’d be there.
His apartment building was once a bachelor officer quarters, built around 1900 when the island had a large military presence. The old white wood building had since been converted to apartments. Typical of a wooden building near the ocean with a brick foundation, the exterior needed some work, but with its long porch and the ocean nearby, Blake was lucky to have his apartment, as these were some of the few for rent on the island.

Carson knocked on Blake’s door and heard the familiar gruff bark of warning from Hobbs. The door swung open and Blake’s face was before her. His hair was unbrushed, curls askew. His dark eyes widened when he saw her, unexpected, at his door.

“Hey, baby,” he said as a crooked smile of pleasure eased across his handsome face. “I didn’t expect to see you till tonight.” Leaning forward, he kissed her. She tasted something deliciously bitter and tangy on his lips and, looking down, saw he carried a beer in his hand. He was careful not to drink when she was around, an effort she deeply appreciated, and he now tried to discreetly tuck the bottle behind his back. Hobbs immediately came to sniff it.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said irritably, passing Blake as she walked into the room. “Better yet, why don’t you have a drink for both of us.”

Blake’s smile collapsed to a frown. He held the door a moment, inhaled deeply, then closed the door and followed her into the small living room, pausing only to set the beer bottle on top of a stack of mail on the front table.

Carson went to the brown nubby sofa that seemed ubiquitous in bachelor apartments. She plopped down and idly glanced around, her fingers tapping her thighs.

This, she thought, was the place she was supposed to call
home in a short while. She felt a cloud of dismay float over her. It looked more like a college student’s apartment than a career man’s home. How could he not see that books and magazines sat everywhere in tilting piles, that his torn leather La-Z-Boy looked more like a holder of laundry? The sisal rug had been chewed in one corner by Hobbs, and she didn’t even want to count the food stains. In the corners and under tables were tumbleweeds of Hobbs’s hair.

Her gaze roved to the galley kitchen, which was part of the open plan of the apartment. He didn’t have dirty dishes lying everywhere, thank heavens. Blake was careful about bugs. But he was clueless about the purpose of cabinets. The counters were cluttered with boxes of cereal, bags of bread and rolls, and electronics plugged into the wall.

The trouble was that she was as bad as, or worse than, Blake at housekeeping. Didn’t couples try to find someone who was the opposite so that they complemented each other? How would they ever manage living together? Suddenly Carson felt desperate that she’d be leaving the spacious and beautiful Sea Breeze for this cramped, bland apartment.

The whole wedding—the thought of getting married—suddenly made her feel anxious and just plain scared. She used to be able to tone down her insecurities with a drink—and she craved one now more than she had in months. It was a physical ache. So she clenched her hands and knees and tried to physically hold herself together. It felt as if she were holding back a bomb about to go off.

Hobbs ambled by, tail wagging, and gently nudged her knee with his nose. It was wet, cold, and slobbery. She usually gave the dog a good rubdown when she came in, but today she
couldn’t. “Go away,” she barked at him, pushing his big block head away.

The big yellow Lab stood for a moment, looking wounded, as though wondering what was wrong.

“Hobbs, settle,” Blake ordered as he drew near.

Hobbs cast a final baleful look at Carson and obeyed the command, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor as he trotted to the corner where his bed lay. He settled onto the cushion with a grumpy grunt.

Blake didn’t sit. He leaned against the kitchen-island counter, resting his elbows on it. His dark brows were gathered and he was watching her warily.

“Carson. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I didn’t get the job at the aquarium.”

He sighed in understanding. Pushing himself from the counter, he took long strides and was at her side in an instant. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“It’s only one job. You’ll find another.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He paused, taking in her mood. “Okay, your dukes are up. You’re looking for a fight. I don’t want to fight.” He rose to his feet. “Want some coffee?”

No, she wanted to scream. She wanted some tequila. Vodka. “Sure. Thanks.”

She stared out the window, through the cheap vinyl blinds, at the trees outside, listening to the noises coming from the kitchen. She knew what she wanted to tell him, but knew if she said the words, Blake might end their engagement. She clenched her hands. She really, really wanted that drink now.

She heard the clicking noises of his automatic coffeemaker and a moment later caught the scent of java in the air. “Smells good.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Thanks.” Her voice was still petulant.

Blake carried the mug of steaming coffee to the wood coffee table. “Careful, it’s hot. Better let it cool a minute.”

Carson stared at the creamy brown liquid, her hands clasped between her knees.

Blake grabbed an armchair and sat in it, his eyes on her. “Carson?”

“What?”

“What did they say?”

“They’re going in a different direction. I have a great résumé. They’d like to hang on to it. But no.”

“Okay, that’s a good rejection.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s really great,” she snapped sarcastically.

“I know it’s not what you were hoping would happen. I’m disappointed, too. But it’s not the end of the world. Hey, something just popped up this week. Something you might really like. Maybe even better.”

“Not now, Blake.”

“Why not now?” Urgency entered his voice. “Just listen. It’s with Waterkeepers of Charleston. They’re a great nonprofit. They—”

“I already have another job.”

Blake silenced and tilted his head to look at her with a guarded gaze. “What job is that?”

“You know what job. With Jason Kowalski. I called him to find out what the status was. He told me it was a good thing I’d
reached out because he was in the process of getting his team for the film together. It’s going to be a major film. Big budget.”

It felt as though the temperature in the room had just dropped twenty degrees. Blake’s face was set. “So you took it?”

“I told him I’d let him know by the end of the week.”

Blake looked vaguely out the window. “I thought you were going to give us until the wedding to find you a job. That’s a month away. We’d agreed.”

“I know.” Carson looked down at the table. Saw the coffee cooling. A scented candle, already half-burned off.

“Then why are you rushing it?”

“I’m not rushing anything. I called to check in. I have to make a decision by the end of the week or this job is gone.”

Blake swung his head around. “What the hell do you care if this job is gone?”

Carson didn’t look up. “I care. I think I want to take it.”

Blake reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. “Carson, look at me and explain why you want to take this job, knowing what that would mean. For us.”