Ready to Wed (18 page)

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I lifted my can and he clinked his against mine. Then he headed to the garage for his pregame get-ready ritual that took seven point five minutes.

I wandered back into the living room and Brendan stood. “Everything good now?” he asked, even though he sounded like he already knew the answer.

I tilted my head. “Are you telepathic?”

“Little bit,” he said with a sly smile. “I could tell you were talking, and from the smile on his face, I’d guess it went well. Plus, my tea leaves said as much this morning.”

“That’s more clairvoyance, I think. Or maybe divination.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I do a little of this, a little of that.”

I put my hands on the sides of his waist. “So what else did your tea leaves tell you, then?”

“That you were dying to drag me to your bedroom.” He nipped at my bottom lip, making my pulse skid underneath my skin in hot bursts. “I have so many memories of sitting on your bed. I wanna see how much it’s changed over the years.”

I glanced toward the garage, then took his hand and pulled him down the hall—might as well make some of his predictions come true. I pushed open the door to my old bedroom. There was a lot more football gear than used to be in there, discarded helmets and shoulder pads, along with an old-school TV/VCR combo so Dad could watch tape. He’d finally gone digital last year, though it took a lot of swearing and threatening to throw his iPad. But some of those tapes were of classic NFL games, including Super Bowl highlights, so there was no way he’d give up the VCR completely.

I shook my head at the mess that a part of me itched to organize. “And he wonders why I didn’t want to move back in. There’s not even a spot for me anymore.”

“You still have all the soccer posters,” Brendan said. There was one of David Beckham for the obvious reasons, and one of Mia Hamm, the athlete I used to want to be. The high school team pictures hadn’t been there when Brendan was last here. While I loved playing, I also learned that I didn’t want to play on a professional level. I had too many other interests, and after four years of playing in high school, I was burned out with the training.

“Here’s the hint of girliness creeping in,” Brendan said, pointing at the pictures of my girlfriends and me in our prom dresses. “No dates?”

“I tore the pictures with them down when the guy I went with broke up with me. My friends and I burned them in a Cleanse Yourself of Your Jerk Ex ceremony, actually. Cathartic, really, until one of the shrubs in the backyard caught on fire and we had to call my dad’s friend Larry, who’s a firefighter.”

Brendan flopped on the bed, pulling me next to him. “Man, this brings back memories.” He reached back and opened the window, then stuck his finger in the small slit in the screen. “It’s still there.”

“Yep, so next time you need to sneak in, let me know and I’ll unlock the window.”

“I was so scared your dad was going to find me, kill me, and bury me in the backyard. I kept thinking it wasn’t worth it, but then I’d come in here and we’d kick back and talk and laugh for hours, so I’d go ahead and sneak in again the next time.”

I ran my fingers across the line of his forearm. “I looked forward to those nights. But I was also terrified my dad would catch you. And then kill us both.” I closed my eyes and thought of the two of us back then, so young and innocent, lying on my bed talking about sports, joking around, and coming up with new strategies for our next game of Fugitive. “I was so crushed when you left.” I opened my eyes and glanced at him. “I wanted to be the tough girl who didn’t cry, but I did. For weeks. Once you were gone, the dynamic with the other guys fell apart and I was a loner for a couple years.”

“It kills me to admit this, but I
might’ve
shed a couple tears myself.” His cheeks colored and he ran his palms down his jeans. He shook his head. “Can’t believe I just told you that.”

I bumped my shoulder into his. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

He took my hand, threading our fingers together. “There at the end, a few months before I left, I started thinking about kissing you.”

My throat went dry. “Oh yeah?”

“I kept chickening out. Thinking it’d be weird. Then after I left, I wished I had.”

“And now…?”

He leaned in, our breath mixing together for a moment before he pressed a kiss to my lips. “Now I’m just glad I finally did.”

“Me too.”

I heard my dad’s heavy footsteps in the living room, meaning the car was ready to go. Over the years I’d spent countless weekends on the sidelines. Once I got to be the same age as the players, I was a “distraction,” so I’d had to move to the bleachers. That was when I’d stopped going to away games, too. Luckily I had my friends from the soccer team by then, and I spent a lot of nights at teammates’ houses, learning about makeup and bras and gossiping about boys.

I kissed Brendan one more time—just a quick peck—and then we headed into the living room.

Dad looked up from the clipboard in his hand. “What are we waiting for?” He pulled on his green and orange hat. “We’ve got a game to go win.”

We.
That was why, even though he sometimes yelled to get his point across and brought up the point I fell in love too quickly—a fact I was painfully aware of, especially when I looked at Brendan and realized how attached I already was—I’d forever be a daddy’s girl. He was there when I needed him most, and even when life got hard,
we
’d taken it on together.

And if I ever did attempt another walk down the aisle—a big freaking
if
that made my blood pressure rise just thinking about it—he’d sure as hell be the one giving me away.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brendan sent me a text that there’d been an incident at the casino so he was pulling a double shift and wouldn’t be home till tomorrow night. If you asked me, “incident” was a funny word to use to describe anything that caused that kind of reaction, but for all I knew it was a simple card counting violation.

In a way, it was good. When Brendan was around, it was hard for me to concentrate, and I needed to start my column. The blank screen and I had a standoff, that stupid cursor blinking over and over. And over. But I’d made a goal to let the city of Las Vegas into my life on my terms, and I was nothing if not goal-oriented. Even though I thought I’d come to terms with it—and I had—laying it all out made it feel like someone had reached into my chest and gripped my heart, squeezing tighter with each line I wrote. I didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and I liked the thought of anyone actually reading it even less.

It took five drafts to put the spin on it that I wanted, and it was way longer than anything else I’d ever written, but it was time to turn my poor-jilted-bride image around. Preferably before Phoebe made me sound like some kind of pathetic serial dater who couldn’t wait to land another man. The fact that I hadn’t really waited very long was beside the point. But I didn’t want to make it sound like I didn’t care about what had happened either, all
Cheerio, mates! Being stood up’s the best, you should totes try it.

Not sure why that side of me was British, but anyway…

As soon as I’d gone through it again to check for typos and see how it read in one fell swoop, I sat back and sipped my second glass of wine—maybe that was why I felt better about what I’d managed to write.

Part of me thought I should sleep on it, but if I waited, I might chicken out. So I wrote up the email to Tess, attached the file, and moved the cursor over the send button.

In one quick motion, I pressed it. The second it left, a thrill battled the wave of nausea in my stomach. Not a combination I’d recommend, but it was done.

Now I got to hope it wasn’t a giant mistake.

…

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of too-short tablecloths, a massive search for fabric in the perfect shade of blue, and a meeting with Valentina and her mom to finalize food and flowers where Mr. Maddox actually made an appearance. Brendan was working a lot, and I was going nonstop to fix all the tragedies that’d sprung up—it’d been that kind of week. But tonight we had plans, and I was counting on that excitement to get me through the day.

Only then I noticed the
Beacon
in my stack of mail. Even though I knew what the article would say, I had to open it up and see it in black and white.

…

Get Ready to Wed
by Dakota Halifax

When I Dos Turn to I Don’ts

Did you ever want something so badly that you’d do almost anything to make it happen? Have you ever felt like you lost sight of what was important? Wondered how you became the person you are now? Well, a couple of months ago, I wrote a column about how happy I was to be getting married. In case any of you haven’t read about it already, my wedding never happened. Was it from lack of planning? No. It was well planned, I assure you. That was the one thing I got right.

While I was raised by a wonderful dad who means the world to me, and who did a fantastic job, I dreamed of a life with two people who loved each other under one roof, raising a family together. The so-called normal families all my friends had—or seemed to have, anyway. I’m a determined person, and once I set my sights on that dream, I worked to figure out how to get it. I was so close, that dream inches from my grasp. And it wasn’t just about reaching my goal; I was in love. Alas, it didn’t end up the way I’d hoped it would.

Did it hurt to wait for a groom who never showed? I can’t even describe how much that tore me apart inside. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks, but this was deeper, like my life was crumbling around me, and I couldn’t do anything but cry. Yes, I cried. I hate crying, by the way. Not a fan.
At all
.

I found out a few things by getting stood up at the altar, though. I’d lost myself a little in the whirlwind of wedding details and the fact that I was about to achieve my dream. Love didn’t fit in the neat, tiny box I’d placed it in. So I’m rediscovering who I am. Figuring out how to stand on my own again. Thinking about love in a new light. And you know what? So far I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I thought I was. Also, who says what’s a normal family and how you need to get there? There’s no deadline. No race. No perfect checklist that’ll give it to you—if there was, I swear I’d have found it. I love me some checklists.

No matter how well planned out your life is, though, it’s got ups and downs. The unexpected happens. Sometimes it seems like there’s a good reason, and sometimes it seems like the universe is having a good laugh at your expense. I’m glad for these unplanned adventures—some more than others. Am I happy that people know me as a wedding planner whose wedding didn’t go according to plan? Not exactly. Am I happy that I didn’t get married? Well, I’ve had a while to think about this, and even after the pain and the heartache, yes, I am.

Wanting something, no matter how badly, doesn’t always mean it’s right for us. You’ve got to learn when to hold. When to fold. So my advice to everyone—and especially to the brides out there—is to make sure you take time to figure out what you really want. Don’t settle (unless it’s a budget issue, in which case I’m an expert at figuring out cheaper ways to achieve the same effect). I’ve rediscovered the girl I used to be. I’ve been blessed with good friends who’ve helped me through this last unexpected adventure. I would have never gotten through this without them.

So if you’ve been hurt before, then know you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I’m still there some days. But it gets better. And I’m excited to see what happens after better.

“I think I’m going to puke,” I said to my empty office. People were actually going to
read
that. What had I been thinking? It was like those dreams where you were running around naked, yelling at yourself to
put on some clothes already!
Only there was no putting on clothes. It was out there. And now people were going to know that I cried. That I was human.

“I think I preferred robot mode.”

My office phone rang, and I answered it on autopilot.

“The DJ just pulled out of the wedding,” a hysterical female shrieked at Code Fuchsia level. I shuffled through my brides, trying to put the voice with a face. “We’ve had him booked for months because he’s one of the only DJs who even had Hindi wedding songs, and now he bails on us? What am I going to do?”

Padma. Of course. My mental state was obviously in a bad place if I’d failed to recognize her voice the second I heard it. “Don’t worry,” I said in my soothing, let’s-take-things-down-a-few-color-levels voice. “I’ll have you a new DJ, with the music you want, by the end of the day.”

…

When I got home, Brendan and Cupid were playing fetch in the house. They both froze in place as I stepped inside. Then Cupid brought me his slobbery squeaky ball, which I guess was his way of saying he still chose me when it came down to it. Despite the drool, I appreciated it. I took the ball from his mouth and tossed it down the hall. He bounded after it, tongue hanging out, nails clicking against the floor.

Brendan took one look at me and opened his arms wide. “Bring it in.”

With a sigh, I closed the distance between us and let him envelop me in a hug. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a good DJ who plays Hindi music?”

“Can’t say that I do. But I have a feeling the sad face is about more than trying to find a DJ.”

Was it really that obvious? Guess that was what happened when you let everyone see inside your life—actually, I knew it was more about Brendan being able to read me so easily, which was comforting, but not enough for me to suddenly be okay with everything. “I feel so vulnerable and naked. I don’t like it.”

Brendan dragged his nose down my cheek. “Naked sounds nice.”

“I’m not the good kind of naked right now.” I shook my head and closed my eyes, sinking further into his embrace.

Cupid came over, dancing around with his ball in his mouth, but when neither of us moved for it, he gave up and headed into the kitchen.

“I read it,” Brendan said. “It was good.”

I winced. “I don’t know. I thought I’d be happy to have my version out there. But right now I feel like hiding from the world and never going out again.” Nothing in the column was a news flash for Brendan—after all, he’d seen the pain firsthand. Knowing he’d read every word was both nice because he was being supportive and nerve-racking because I’d reminded him of that broken side of me, something I was still working to be okay with. “I thought I’d gotten over it—and I have for the most part—but putting it out there and knowing people are reading it has brought back all those icky emotions.”

“Give yourself a break. It’d be strange if you felt nothing.” He ran his fingertips down my arm. “It was obvious you put your heart and soul into that column. It was brave and hopeful, and people will relate to that.”

I tipped up my head and peered into the dark brown depths of his eyes. “Thanks, but I still don’t like it. It was supposed to be empowering and I just feel like a mess. At least I’m not crying all the time, the way I was in my office that first day you came to see me.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you didn’t run—you probably should’ve. It’s not too late, although with our living situation, it’s gonna be trickier, so that’s your bad.” The joke didn’t come out quite as light as I’d been going for.

Brendan gently cupped my chin. “Do you really not get it? That first day I walked into your office, I knew I was a goner. I thought it’d be fun to see you again, but when you lifted your beautiful face, black smudged across your cheek, I forgot my own name. As we were talking, I told myself to calm down—that you were D.J., my childhood friend. But from that moment on, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

The anxiety squeezing my chest eased, a happy flutter taking its place. “You made a pretty big impression, too. I kept telling myself to stop thinking about how hot you were. And then you were so easy to talk to, and having our friendship back made all the crappy stuff not so crappy anymore…” I leaned into him again, taking a moment to soak in his familiar cologne and his warm skin next to mine. “Without you, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through these past few months.” I twisted my head and placed my lips against his cheek. “You know I’m a little bit crazy about you, right?”

The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Just a little bit?”

He was obviously joking, but a sharp jab of apprehension shot through me. I thought about how Dad had pointed out my tendency to fall in love so quickly. It was true. I wanted to be tough, and I played it cool, but inside I was always crushed when a guy didn’t call later, or when a relationship ended.

Brendan was not only the guy I was falling hard for; he’d also become my best friend all over again. This was a different kind of falling. It was jumping out of an airplane without checking to see if I’d gotten a parachute, and if it didn’t open, I’d be splat on the ground, no chance of recovery.

“So did that help?” Brendan asked, pulling back to look at me. “Are you out of Code Pink now?”

“Code Fuchsia,” I automatically corrected, but I was thinking that I was in Code Fuchsia trouble with him.

Brendan pulled me toward the couch. “Maybe we can get it to Purple Passion…” He sat and tugged me down so I was straddling him. His hands slid up my thighs, and my worries, as well as every other thought in my head, went hazy. He drew me closer, until nothing but our quickened breaths separated our lips, not an inch of space between our bodies.

He dipped his head and ran his lips across my collarbone, sending the room spinning. I arched back, rocking my hips at the same time, eliciting a groan from him. The next thing I knew I was on my back on the couch, his body pinning me with his delicious weight. Then his tongue and limbs tangled with mine, a blur of kisses and fingertips grazing skin. I tugged his shirt up and let my fingers drift over the taut muscles of his abdomen. I pulled my legs up on either side of him, my skirt inching high enough to expose most of my legs, which Brendan took advantage of, his hands skimming my thighs.

This was it. Maybe I was falling, and it was a little scary and a little fast, but I couldn’t wait anymore. Figuring out everything else could wait.

Brendan’s phone rang, vibrating against my hip bone, and he swore under his breath. He lifted himself onto his hands, his arms locked, and took a few heaving breaths as the phone continued to ring.

“It’s the ringtone I have for Mr. Maddox. I’m so sorry, but I need to get it.” As he reached for his phone, I was pretty sure he muttered, “Looks like I’ll be dealing with the color blue tonight.”

I covered my mouth to hide a smile, because it wasn’t really funny. I was all hot and bothered, too, the imprint of his hands on me a torturous and pleasant memory, all at the same time.

“They’re back?” Brendan asked, running a hand through his hair. “No, I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and let out a sharp exhale. “We’ve got these clients who need extra security, and they’ve taken a liking to me. Which is good, only they want to have access 24-7. They’re going to be here all week.” His eyes met mine, and a flush of heat traveled across my skin. “I had plans to take you out tonight.”

I hooked my finger through one of his belt loops. “I had a feeling we were on our way to staying in.”

Brendan groaned. “You’re so not helping.” He dragged his thumb across my bottom lip. “I’d say you should come stay at the hotel with me, but you’re too distracting, and I might kill someone if they interrupted us. Can’t you be a little less sexy?”

I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue, giving him my best total-weirdo look that’d surely send even sex addicts running for the hills.

“Nice try, but it’s still far too cute.” He leaned in, his lips close to my ear. “Later, you and I are going to finish what we started.” The combination of his words and his breath against my neck sent a pleasant chill down my spine. He kissed the sensitive spot under my ear and straightened. “And stop worrying about your column, okay? It was a good one.”

Warmth filled my chest, different from the heat still pumping through my veins. One more kiss and Brendan headed to his room. He came out a few minutes later in a black button-down and a shiny black tie, looking every bit the security guy those very important people wanted. If it meant getting him full time, I’d be tempted to hire him as my personal security guard, too. I probably couldn’t pay what they did, though.

Not with money anyway.

Okay, dirty thoughts are not making this better.
Brendan paused at the door and I blew him a kiss. Yep, I was a goner. As soon as the door was closed, Cupid came wandering back into the room.

I reached over and petted my trusty companion. “I think I’m in trouble, Cupid. Did you shoot me with your arrows?”

Cupid gave me an appropriately confused look, considering I was talking to a dog about arrows. “I think I’m already in love with him,” I said, though there wasn’t really any thinking involved.

The problem was, Brendan always made this face whenever the words “marriage” or “wedding” were mentioned. Which was kind of often, considering my job. I couldn’t help flashing back to the conversation about his girlfriend who’d been obsessed with it, and how he’d made it clear he wasn’t really into the idea. It wasn’t like I was ready for anything like that—it terrified me now, actually. I just wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to be falling so hard for someone who wasn’t interested in it at all.