Champagne and Lemon Drops: A Blueberry Springs Chick Lit Contemporary Romance (32 page)

Tears trickled down Beth's flushed cheeks.
Katie tried again to take possession of the note. Beth stomped a
foot and held the paper behind her back.

How was it that Oz wrote lovely, appropriate
words and Nash couldn't rise to the occasion? And why did it matter
to her so much?

"Damn that Oz!" Beth snapped. "Did he put
you up to this?" Maybe there was more to the so-called threat of Oz
than Nash had let on. Maybe he had been the one quietly sabotaging
things in the background just like his mom did when she'd tried to
move out of Katie's place. It didn't seem like Oz to do something
like this, but then again neither had many of his actions over the
past year.

Katie shook her head and
lunged for the note. "No. I'm just an impulsive mental case, okay?
Give it back and we'll pretend I never showed it to you.
He'll
kill
me if
he finds out I have it. I shouldn't have taken it. I shouldn't have
even read it."

Beth grabbed her purse and shoved her office
chair out of the way. "Move!"

Katie leapt from her spot in front of the
door and Beth blew past.

"Wait! Beth! It was me, it was me!"

Beth rounded a corner at the end of the
hospital corridor and could hear Katie in her soft-soled shoes
scurrying to catch up. She moved faster.

"Wait!"

Nurses turned in alarm as they blasted by
the station. In the atrium, she slowed to a fast walk, fake smiling
at patients and guests who were engrossed in the news before
storming ahead, finally reaching the exit near her car.

"You can't tell him you read it," Katie
said, reaching to grab Beth's arm.

Beth whirled and just about beaned Katie
upside the head with her swinging purse. "He can't screw with my
emotions, Katie. Not without consequences." She resumed her march,
exiting through the large emergency doors and into the blaring
spring sunshine.

"Wait! He wasn't involved. I swear!" Katie
called after her.

Beth gunned the Volvo's engine and tore out
of the parking lot. Less than a week until her wedding and Oz dared
pull this crap? He had to be off his rocker if he thought he could
get away with trying to sabotage her future happiness. He'd given
her up and she was going to remind him of that small fact right
now.

She skidded down her old street sending a
cat that looked a lot like Fluffy scuttling out of the way. Beth
slammed her car into park outside Oz's trailer, jolting her
seatbelt into its locked position. She tried to exit the car, and
nearly strangled herself when her seatbelt refused to release for
her fumbling fingers.

"For heaven's sake!" She threw herself back
in her seat and impatiently tried again. Finally, she stumbled
toward the front steps, tripping over a cedar whirligig, its bitter
scent stinging her nostrils.

She was going to tell that
delusional man a thing or two. There was no way she'd allow him to
illuminate Nash's poetic shortcomings and come out
unscathed.
He
was
the one who messed up. He had his chance and he blew it. Big
time.

She stomped up the steps, yanked on the
protesting screen door, and thumped on the inner wood door with a
heavy fist. She continued to bang until her fist stung and the door
swung inward, just about depositing her against a shirtless Oz.

Beth gaped at Oz's midsection, specifically,
the faint outline of a six pack. And she was not referring to beer.
She was talking stomach muscles. Big lumps of firm stomach muscles.
More than she'd imagined when he'd smoothed his hand over his
midriff at her sister's wedding.

Unable to tear her eyes off his gut, other
than to make a quick visual to ensure that it was indeed Oz, she
continued to gape. Lines of muscle ran down either side of his
stomach region, narrowing to form an unfinished arrow. A trail of
dark hair marched south from his belly button, drawing her eye to
the top of his faded 501s. She lost visual contact with the line,
but knew exactly how and where it ended.

Self-preservation kicked in and she sucked
in a breath, combatting the lightheadedness that had taken over.
Clutching the doorframe, she tried to recall why she had come and
why she thought she should be angry.

Oz broke the silence. "I've been working
out."

She blinked hard, turning her head so she'd
stop staring at his midriff. She cautiously allowed herself to
check his face. His eyes were crisp and bright. He looked healthy.
Hot. Just like at the wedding. Only... better. Lots better.

Sadness gripped her core
with its freezing hand. Inside she screamed,
It's not fair!
He wasn't allowed to
look this good when he wasn't hers. And he most certainly
was
not
supposed
to know it was affecting her.

Comforting anger returned. She whipped out
the love note and waved it in Oz's face. "What the hell do you
think you're trying to pull?" She leaned forward and in the process
caught a whiff of his sweet, memory-laden cologne. She steeled
herself so she wouldn't sway, her breathing jagged. Why was he
wearing it? It was for special occasions. This was most definitely
not a special occasion.

Oz rested a shoulder against the edge of the
inner door. Beth's indignation flagged as Oz's brow scrunched in
confusion, a lock of hair falling into his eyes.

She waved the note again and stepped
forward, the screen door banging against her butt. Oz grabbed her
waving hand and plucked the paper from her grasp. His expression
slowly closed as he unfolded the sheet.

The world felt as though it was turning.
Something had changed.

"How did you get this?" he asked, a hard
edge to his voice.

"What are you trying to do to me, Oz?" She
watched as his gaze took her in, leaving her feeling small and
strangely guilty. "You're intentionally trying to sabotage my
relationship with Nash."

Oz's eyebrows rose. "Wait a second, I—"

"Don't play games with me."
She jabbed a finger at his chest. "I am not dumb. You're making
everything difficult on purpose. You're being the old Oz and it's
not fair! It's wrong. It's
all
wrong." She faltered, unsure whether to run or
keep yelling.

Oz's expression softened, and her anger took
over. She stepped forward, forcing him to back up as she went in
for another verbal blow.

"You set me up. Me, Oz! Me! Quit
interfering." She swiped at sliding tears. She sliced her pointer
finger through the air, first at Oz and then at herself. "You and
me? We're done!"

"Wait." Oz took a step forward, closing the
space between them. "I don't know how you got this from my wallet,
but I didn't set you up. You know me better than that, Little
B."

The nickname cut through her core and she
stumbled. "What?" She glanced beyond the entry and into the living
room. Like a tease, it had transformed itself back into its former
warmth and familiarity. The room was clean, the plants green and
healthy, the picture frames propped up. Her favorite video game was
paused on the TV. It was as though the past had never
happened—except she was standing on the outside.

She closed her eyes against the stinging
flood of loss. She felt like a kite fluttering without its string,
drifting and spinning on a breeze, unsure where the wind would set
her down and in what condition.

Had all of this been simply
to get her out of his hair? No. She shook her head. It was
something else. She leaned over and breathed deeply.
Her
Oz. Her chin crinkled
and she tried to keep her lips from trembling.

He crouched so they were face to face. "I'm
sorry, I don't know who's doing this to you."

She closed her eyes. Neither man was
perfect. It was as though she had been idolizing rock stars only to
find they had drug addictions, cheated on their taxes as well as
their wives, and synthesizers had been making their voices falsely
perfect and deep. But they were close. So close. And Oz felt like
the closest even though he was the furthest. How could that be? How
could she still think he was the one?

He slowly refolded the note over its creases
and ignored the phone which had begun to ring. "I wrote this years
ago. After the first time we slept together." His face flushed and
he slid the note into his back pocket. Still keeping his eyes cast
down, he continued, "I still carry it." His brown eyes, flecked
with amber, met hers and took her in. "It grounds me."

Beth resisted the potent urge to fold
herself into Oz's arms. She stood on the step, emotions roaring
through her like a late summer storm. "We're over, Oz. Remember
that. OVER!" She stumbled against the screen door, pushing her way
out.

***

How could she still have feelings for
Oz?

How could she betray Nash
by loving him
and
loving Oz?

And why couldn't she shove Oz out of her
heart the way she wanted to? Why wouldn't he leave?

Beth folded her hands around her head,
letting tears drip onto her denimed thighs. She checked the clock
to make sure Nash would still be at the hospital and called her
sister on the bedside phone.

"Yo, what's up bride-to-be?"

Beth sniffed, wiped her cheeks with the back
of her hand, and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Cynthia asked. "Is this
about Nash's bachelor party in the city? He let the stripper give
him a blow job, didn't he? A blow job is a blow job, Beth. No
matter who performs it or under what circumstances. Don't let him
convince you otherwise."

Panic seized her mind. "He got a blow job
from a stripper?"

"Well, I don't know. Did he?" her sister
asked in a curious voice.

"
What?
No. I mean, I don't—you just
said he did!"

"No, I didn't. But it
seemed a likely explanation for your apparent distress. So,
what
has
he
done?"

"I hate you."

Cynthia laughed. "You get so wound up about
men."

Beth took a deep breath and tried to relax.
"I still hate you."

"So? What did he do? The Greatest Couple in
Blueberry Springs has a date tonight. Can you make it snappy, or
should I reschedule our public appearance?"

"It'll be snappy," Beth said with a sigh.
"And he hasn't done anything. Not really."

"Not really? Or not at all? There's a big
difference, especially when we're talking about men and upcoming
nuptials."

"Not really." Beth let out a defeated sigh.
Why did she bother calling Cynthia? Her sister couldn't figure this
out for her. It was her problem. Her consequences.

"Spill."

Beth let out a painful hiccup. "We were
writing our vows and they sucked."

"They sucked how?"

"He thinks I'm clean!" Renewed hurt washed
over her and she chucked one of the throw pillows across the room,
knocking over the laundry hamper.

Cynthia snorted as if holding back
laughter.

Beth continued, "He says I've got nice skin
and that my friends and I are clean. And that I give him his own
space."

"And let me guess, you said some really nice
things? Romantic things?"

"Uh, huh."

"Well, Beth, I hate to
break it to you, but he's a
guy
. That's why there's a dozen women
locked up in a Hallmark factory writing sappy cards for useless,
unromantic men. Guys don't think all lovey-dovey. It's not
natural."

"For some of them, it is."

"For the ones limp in the wrist. Nash is an
acquired taste, like champagne. Not everyone likes champagne, but
it gives an elegant impression and gets the job done. Nash is ready
to go, right out of the bottle. You don't have to wait for him to
figure out who he is in order to see if he wants a life with you.
Vows are hollow, meaningless, Hallmark nothings."

"You're wrong. Not all guys..." Beth paused,
doubting herself. "Katie showed me a note Oz wrote—"

"Oz is a lemon drop, Beth. Everyone loves a
lemon drop, even when it's covered in lint. Aren't you getting
tired of sucking the lint and getting cavities?"

"He wrote it after we'd
been dating for two and a half months. It was beautiful. Poetic.
Romantic. He
knew
me."

Silence.

"He carries it around with him and has since
he wrote it."

"Why are you telling me this? Are you hoping
I'll magically make Nash poetically gifted? Or is there something
more?"

"I'm talking to you because you're my sister
and I need help."

"Help how?"

"To share the indignity of it all." Beth
flung another satin cushion across the room. "I mean, I'm marrying
Nash, who can't write a vow to save his life, and here's Oz
carrying around an old note that would make perfect vows."

"Really? Is that all?"

"That's all."

More silence.

Beth would
not
tell her sister the
truth. Ever.

"Do you know what I think?" Cynthia waited a
beat before continuing. "You're still in love with Oz. Which is
understandable since, from what I've seen and heard, Oz is getting
himself back together. Back to the good ol', familiar, easy-to-love
Oz who you've drooled over for years. But the problem is that Oz
doesn't seem to want you back, now does he? He gave you up."

Beth blinked back tears and tried to
swallow.

"So, little sister, you need to ask
yourself, do you love Nash more than Oz and your perfect,
unrealistic dream that goes along with him? Because you can't marry
Nash in good conscience if you are dreaming of Oz. You need closure
with Oz, and quick. You need to ensure he isn't sitting there
waiting for you to come back to him."