Ready to Wed (2 page)

“I’d love to catch up sometime,” I said. “Next week I’ll have this mess sorted out better, but honestly, I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Like fighting the impulse to burst into tears again, which pissed me off. I’d never been much of a crier, and it was like all the years of holding back I’d done were gushing out of me now. Grant so didn’t deserve to have so many tears shed over him.

Brendan nodded, pulled out a business card, and gave it to me. “Come by the casino or give me a call.” He walked to the door, but turned around instead of pushing out of it. “I know you throw a killer right hook…” He rubbed his jaw as if he could still feel its effect, and then flashed me a smile. “But if you decide you need someone, you know where to find me.”

“And if you decide you need my help at the casino, I could use an excuse to get rowdy. You’d be surprised how few weddings give me the chance to use my hook.”

He laughed, and I waved good-bye. Joking with him left me cheered enough to fight back the tears. Funny enough, the last time I’d cried so much was probably when he’d moved away. Losing my best friend in junior high had seemed like the end of the world, and it’d taken a long time for his absence to stop sucking.

Technically, Brendan was my first fiancé. I smiled at that, thinking of all our plans when we were young, which were usually more about where we were riding our bikes, whose house we’d eat dinner at, or which sport to play. I wondered if I’d see him often now that he was back in Vegas, or if we’d try to hang out and it’d be weird. Then again, he was already trying to take care of me, something I’d always told him he didn’t need to do, though that never stopped him.

But before I could even think about rekindling my friendship with Brendan, I needed to deal with the guy who’d broken my heart into a thousand little pieces.

Chapter Two

I pushed my way into Jillian’s and sighed when it was clear she wasn’t home yet. She was good at keeping my mind off the current mess that was my life, whether we were talking about the changes she was implementing in her catering business or just chilling watching movies. Without her there to distract me, I also noticed that my stuff was everywhere. There was the blanket-and-pillow stack off to the side of the couch for when it became my bed at night, and the two suitcases I’d taken on the cruise were crammed into one corner. I’d had to borrow an outfit for work today, and on the way home I’d bought a new one for tomorrow. Originally I thought I might try to face Grant tonight, but then I’d gotten an email about a sale at one of my favorite stores, and I’d needed new slacks anyway.

Okay, so I was delaying the inevitable. Putting off things wasn’t my usual style, but this wasn’t a to-do list item that could be easily crossed off with one of my bright-colored gel pens. It was my ex-fiancé and my life that was supposed to be.

Admittedly, it was getting to the ridiculous point. A suitcase filled with a barely worn wedding dress and another with shorts, tank tops, flip-flops, and bikinis wasn’t quite meeting my needs anymore. I missed my clothes, and especially my shoe collection. Not to mention I was usually neat to the point of OCD-ness, and the lack of places to put my meager belongings and the fact that I might be driving Jillian insane with my mess dug at me. I needed to find a better solution, and soon.

Dad’s place would be a hell of a commute, not to mention moving back in with him felt like a total fail on top of my other fails, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. I also wasn’t sure I’d have a choice before long. I headed to the kitchen and pulled the carton of rocky road ice cream out of the fridge. It’d always been my favorite flavor, but I’d never quite gotten the name before. Now I knew that when the road got rocky, it was always there for you. Of course it wasn’t so nice in the added-poundage aspect.

Note to self: Start going to the gym again. Maybe join a volleyball or softball league. Something to keep me motivated.

I grabbed a spoon and headed to the couch, kicking aside the pair of shoes I’d left next to the coffee table yesterday. Apparently the lid to my ice cream hadn’t completely sealed, and now the chocolaty goodness had a layer of ice crystals and was rock solid. I stabbed at it, trying to chip off a bite.

“Come”—another stab—“on.” Were a couple bites of ice cream really so much to ask on a day like today? So much for it being there for me.

My phone rang, and I groaned when I saw it was my mom. I licked off the minuscule amount of ice cream that’d gotten onto my spoon and then answered.

“How are you doing?” she asked. I’d give her credit, she had the sympathetic tone down, but I didn’t quite trust it. After all, last time we’d spoken she asked why I was even bothering to get married. Conversations with her were always tricky as it was, and I hadn’t had the energy to attempt one since I’d texted to let her know the wedding hadn’t happened.

I hugged the ice cream carton to me, hoping a tighter grip would help me dig a bite loose. “I’ve been better, but I’m hanging in there.”

“I can only imagine, knowing how much you wrapped your entire life up in that guy. I said you needed to be careful. That a wedding wasn’t a guarantee.” Here went the I Told You So speech. The divorce from Dad had left her with the opinion that marriage was something best avoided, and she liked to remind me of her stance on a regular basis. Not seeing eye to eye with Mom was nothing new, though. What little time we did spend together during my childhood, she’d filled with encouraging me to act more ladylike, and when I’d gone into wedding planning—which I thought was pretty freaking ladylike—she’d asked why I didn’t want to put my brains to better use. Still, she was my mom, and it was nice of her to check on me, even if her words often came out barbed.

“I loved him. I wasn’t just marrying him for the fairy-tale wedding, you know.”

“That was pretty obvious when you chose to do it during a cruise,” Mom said. See? Definitely had a problem with saying things the nice way. Up until five years ago, we hadn’t really had a relationship—I felt she’d worked hard to forget about me, so I tried to do the same. But when she’d come to me saying she regretted that we didn’t know each other better, I’d decided I’d deal with some of the verbal jabs so we could be in each other’s lives. How exactly I felt about that decision depended on the day. “You could come visit. Get away for a while.”

Mom and her current boyfriend, Frank, lived on the outskirts of L.A. and were in the middle of a remodel project on the house they’d recently bought. For the first time in her life, she was setting down roots, which meant she actually cared about Frank—not that she’d admit it.

“I’ve got nonstop jobs lined up right now,” I said. “And I need to find an apartment on top of everything else, so now’s not really a good time.”

Mom sighed. “Well, I offered earlier, when you did have time off, but you didn’t return my calls. I hope you’re not just sitting around alone, moping and eating chocolate.”

I stared into my ice cream, which was not softening at all and starting to freeze my arms, so cold it burned. “Of course not.”
Because I can’t get the chocolate out, damn it!

“Trust me, the best thing to do is move on and forget the past.”

Her words caused pricks of pain in my chest, duller than they used to be thanks to years of telling myself that it didn’t matter that she’d chosen to leave me behind for her career. Dad had done a good job of stepping up, even if my younger years were mostly a blur of high school football games, either the ones he coached or the games we’d travel to so we could scout out another team. And whenever it was Mom’s turn to spend a week with me, I’d fly to whichever city she was in at the time and try to settle into a temporary place.

I wanted to say that not all of us could leave people behind without a care, but it would only cause a fight, one I always lost, so I simply said, “Thanks for checking in on me, Mom. I’ve got an appointment, though, so I’d better go.”

She filled me in on a few remodeling details first, but eventually I managed to get off the phone. My appointment was with trashy TV, the kind that made me feel like I had my life together. Only I couldn’t stop thinking of how, after a taxing conversation with my mother, Grant used to be there to wrap his arms around me and say, “Call my mom. She thinks you’re amazing. In fact, I think she likes you more than me.”

It wasn’t true, but I’d been surprised at how well I got along with his mom. Evelyn was the motherly figure I told myself I didn’t need, since I was already grown, but liked having around anyway. I’d felt like part of his family after just a few months of our being together, and after we’d gotten engaged, Grant and I had even discussed having kids of our own someday. How’d they look, how we’d raise them. Our own little family, settled in one place. It was all I’d ever wanted, and then it was just gone, no warning. And now I was sitting alone, with not even my dog curled up next to me like he should be, begging for treats since I had mine.

“Ugh!” I jammed the spoon into the ice cream so hard that I actually made an inch of progress. But when I tried to scoop, the handle of the spoon wouldn’t budge, so not real progress. Kind of like what I’d accomplished since being stood up at the altar. I’d basically put my entire life on pause, but two full weeks of feeling sorry for myself was enough. Time to type up a game plan and do what I did best—take control of the situation. In fact, I was getting kind of excited thinking about entering it into my task list and highlighting the sections in different colors. One color for fitness goals, another for my housing situation—one that’d allow my dog to live with me—and eventually, one for a new dating plan. That last goal would be long-term, of course. I wasn’t in a hurry to jump into another relationship. My heart was obviously a crappy judge of character. And just so I wouldn’t fail, I would even schedule in a couple of nights a month when I could watch sappy movies and allow myself to be a bit sad that my wedding hadn’t happened.

Yeah. I’ve totally got this.

But first things first; this ice cream was going down. I took it into the kitchen and dug around in a few drawers, looking for something to cut through the impenetrable arctic-frost layer.

“Ooh,” I said, pulling out a flambé thingy I’d seen Jillian use for a wedding that’d involved crème brûlée. I’d just fired it up, the flame blowing nice and hot, when Jillian walked in.

“Put the culinary torch down and no one gets hurt,” she said.

“My ice cream’s frozen.”

Jillian dropped her purse on the table and walked into the kitchen. Her curly dark hair was spilling out of the bun she kept it in when she was cooking, a breadth away from falling out completely, which meant it’d been a long, nonstop day. “That’ll turn it into soup.”

“Good, then I can forget about the stupid spoon and just drink it.”

Jillian pursed her lips and held out her hand.

I slowly handed over the torch. “I know this looks sad, but it’s okay. I realize I’ve reached the allotted amount of being heartbroken time, so tonight’s the last night I’m allowed to be pathetic. I’m going to create a supercool work sheet, and I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Jillian tossed her torch back in the drawer and closed it with her hip. “You can’t plan how long it takes to heal from a heartbreak.”

“You know I’m goal oriented. If I write it down, I’ll make it happen, no matter what it takes.”

“You need closure, babe. That’s what it’s going to take to even
start
the healing.” Jillian took the ice cream carton to the sink, plugged the drain, and ran hot water into it until it was just to the brim. I probably should’ve thought of that, but the flame seemed faster and more destructive. Lately, that was more my style—yet another thing I needed to work on. “You’re going to have to face him sometime. Get some answers, say your official good-bye, and hear why he stood you up, even if it ends up being total shit.”

Jillian didn’t believe in sugarcoating things. She told it like it was and got things done, which was why when she catered the weddings I planned, everything went that much better. But it also meant she wasn’t the girl to go to if you were looking to hear what you wanted to hear.

My shoulders fell. “You’re right. I know I need to see him and talk out a few things. But I’ve got to go into work tomorrow and act excited about planning a wedding.”

Jillian wrinkled her nose. She’d never been much of a wedding fan—her claim was that they were good for business, bad for individuals. Silly me, I’d defended the idea of happily ever after. She pulled the carton of ice cream out of the sink and handed me a fresh spoon. The edges were soft at least, but after only one bite, it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. I held it out to her and she waved it away. “No nuts, remember?”

“Right.” I slid the ice cream out into the sink and tossed the carton in the recycling bin. “I think that’ll be my new motto for guys.”

Jillian laughed. I watched the ice cream slide down the drain, sure I’d regret dumping it later, but at least I was getting to work on my goals. I braced my hand on the counter. “Tell me I’ll get through it. That it’ll stop hurting eventually.”

Jillian wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll get through it. One day, you’ll realize that you haven’t thought about him in weeks, and then you’ll be ready to find someone else. Someone better. You know I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true.”

I flashed her a smile and leaned into her. The sorrow was still there, hanging heavy, all my dreams popped and pressing against my chest. But I felt better than I had when I first walked into the apartment, and I realized, if nothing else, I had one of the best friends ever.

With my
I love weddings
attitude replaced with a
weddings blow
one, and the fact that I was about to take on the busiest wedding season I’d ever done, there was no doubt I was going to need her.

Chapter Three

“Weddings are awesome, weddings are awesome, weddings are awesome,” I said as I paced my love-paraphernalia-filled office, waiting for my morning appointment. Binders filled with invitation choices and pictures of complicated cakes that’d take your breath away and send you into a sugar coma were stacked on my desk.

I picked up a black Sharpie, contemplating drawing mustaches on all of the framed blushing brides. The one beaming across the room at me deserved a few blackened teeth at least.

I tossed the marker away before I gave in to temptation and focused on a blank white spot on the office wall. “Love is beautiful. Not a load of crap that just leaves you heartbroken and rethinking your entire life. Nope, not at all.” I thought after last night’s talk with Jillian and taking the time to type up my goals before going to sleep, I’d feel better. Be ready for this. But now that I was faced with planning a huge ceremony for someone else, I started thinking of all the times I’d assured brides about their weddings. One of my most-used lines was, “I’ve done this long enough to recognize love when I see it, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Did Grant ever look at me that way? Like he’d do anything to make me happy?
I’d seen guys sit through tedious discussions on cakes, place settings, flowers, and decorations. Once, when we arrived at a venue and found the swans were missing, I’d even sent a groom sixty miles north to pick up a few. And he’d done it, because it was what his bride wanted. My groom hadn’t even walked off a ship to explain he wasn’t ready to marry me. The entire time we were trapped on that stupid boat, he’d stayed away from the room as much as possible, slipping in late and leaving early in the morning. At the time I’d been glad, but why did he keep calling me now, asking to let him explain instead of having just spit it out then?

Sure, when he had started with the excuses, I’d picked up the ice bucket and told him I didn’t want to hear it or I’d launch the metal thing at his head. Still felt a bit bad about that, but really, he was lucky I didn’t follow through—my aim is pretty good, and that bucket weighed a ton. Maybe I’d been blind from the start, though, unable to see what was missing when my groom-not-to-be looked at me. Because the life I’d always dreamed of was finally within my grasp, and I wanted it so badly I hadn’t paid close enough attention to the most important thing. If my fiancé even loved me back.

The bell over the door chimed and I plastered a smile on my face. “Willa, hi!”

“Omigosh, I’m so glad you’re back! I’ve been freaking out, worried every place will be all booked up.”

Apparently fake smiles hurt more than real ones, because my cheeks were already burning. Or maybe my smile was out of shape from lack of use. “No need to freak out. Everything’s on track.”

Willa took the seat across from me. “And how was your wedding? Was it amazing? Should I forget this whole big ceremony and hop on a boat, too?”

My stomach took a nosedive. I’d assumed everyone would instinctually know I hadn’t gotten married. I mean, the reception that was supposed to happen two days after our return had been canceled, which left me in the doghouse with several of my vendors, especially since they’d all helped throw together the party with very little prep time. So more fun times ahead for me. But Willa wasn’t close enough to me to be invited—we’d barely started planning her wedding.

I picked up the Sharpie I’d tossed away earlier and rolled it between my fingers. “I, uh, didn’t end up getting married.”

Willa’s face dropped. The only thing worse than feeling sorry for myself was having other people pity me.

“But the cruise was amazing! I mean, it was slightly hampered by the fact that I was trapped in a tiny room with a guy I wanted to toss overboard…”

Now my client’s eyes bulged and her eyebrows arched so high they disappeared under her fringe bangs.

“Kidding, of course. I mean, things were awkward, but we’re adults who still care about each other.” Now that was laying it on a bit thick, but I couldn’t seem to stop rambling, trying to make her see I was totally fine, no pity needed. “Jamaica’s totally beautiful, too.”
As long as you’re not sitting on your butt in a wedding dress crying, and even then, the scenery is at least pretty.
“And you can get ice cream day or night on the ship, and same with pizza, so, score.”

The more I explained, the more concerned Willa appeared. But if she wanted to go for a cruise wedding…well, I’d say hell no, don’t do it. There was just too much that could go wrong.

“Anyway, for
your
wedding, I’ve narrowed it down to three locations.” I twisted my large computer monitor toward her so she could see the pictures. She was from Alabama and wanted a big Southern wedding on “a plantation-type place,” complete with big hats, parasols, and a never-ending supply of sweet tea.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t dissuaded from the subject of my failed wedding as easily as I’d hoped. She grabbed one of my hands in both of hers, a poor-you expression written all over her features. “Oh, honey, that guy was obviously not the right one for you. You’ll find your prince, don’t you worry.”

I’d never been great at faking optimism, so I charged on with the planning—at least that was a subject I knew I could handle, even if my follow-through sucked. “So, there’s Splendor on the Green,” I said, expanding the photos that showed other ceremonies that’d happened there. “And then there’s a ranch out on the edge of town, and a country club that’d work. There aren’t really plantations around Vegas, but these places have the lush green backgrounds and trees.”

Willa leaned in close, tapping a French-manicured nail to her lips as she studied the options. “I don’t know. I’d really like to see them in person.”

I’d only met her once before, but I’d suspected Willa would be an In Person type. “Well, I made arrangements to see them today if we need to.”

“Perfect!” She shot out of her seat.

At least she was enthusiastic enough for both of us. “We’ll head there in a bit, but I thought you might want to look at save-the-date cards and invitations first.” I handed her the binder, opening up to the section I thought she’d like.

I couldn’t fault Willa for wanting to check out all of her options. It’d made me nervous not seeing beforehand where my ceremony was supposed to be performed. Even though I’d never made it to that spot on the beach, I’d sent a check for their troubles. The deposits I’d made for the food and the reception hall were nonrefundable, and I’d also paid my vendors for things they couldn’t get rid of, like the flowers for the reception and the giant cake that was already halfway made before I could tell them to cancel the order. So my bank account looked like I’d gotten married and had a big party, even though it didn’t happen.

Stop thinking about it.
That was going to be my biggest challenge, the constant reminders of a wedding that never happened as I planned ceremonies for other couples. I simply needed to focus on my clients and their details. Not mine.

“This one! It’s so perfect for us!” Willa lifted the book, pointing to the same embossed silver hearts invitation Grant and I had used for our reception. Cold filled my chest as I stared at it, remembering all that time I’d spent addressing and stuffing the matching envelopes, carefully tucking the silver ribbon inside so the bow wouldn’t get smooshed. The excitement I’d felt that it was all going so smoothly, and how close I was to my happily ever after.

“Those are…” I forced the corners of my mouth into another fake smile. “Lovely.” So lovely I’d known they were what I wanted for my wedding someday, even before Grant was in the picture. “And I’m here to help with the addressing and that kind of thing if you need it.”

Challenge was an understatement. Clearly, not thinking about my failed nuptials was going to be the Everest of goals.

…

It was weird to pull up to a place that used to give me such comfort and happiness and feel nothing but apprehension and nausea. I hadn’t lived at Grant’s long—I was going to wait until after the wedding at first, but then it’d seemed wasteful to keep paying for my apartment when I was never there. So I’d hauled over all my earthly possessions a couple of months ago and settled in. Because silly me, when he asked me to marry him, I thought he’d meant it.

Just like I thought I was ready to see him again. I’d made it through today, and it seemed like a good idea to charge on to the next to-do list item. But now I fought the urge to reverse out of the driveway and flee to Jillian’s.

She’d only tell me to suck it up and go back anyway.

Unless she’s not home…
I eyed my phone and then picked it up and opened my productivity app, where I’d input all my goals and to-do lists. Two items remained for today.

Get clothes from Grant’s, and closure from him.

Gym.

I’d rather hit the gym first, but then I’d be sweaty for this confrontation, not to mention my workout clothes were here.
Maybe getting closure is a little ambitious for one afternoon, though.

I edited it to say “and start to get closure,” then inhaled a deep breath. Now that I was feeling in control, my goals right there in front of me, I was ready to deal.

Anyway, I thought so, but then I got to the front door. I had a key, but it wasn’t my house, and Grant and I were over. Then again, ringing the doorbell seemed odd when most everything I owned was inside. A bark made the decision for me. I unlocked the door and dropped to my knees as Cupid bounded for me. I threw my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his soft black hair.

“Hey, boy! I missed you so much!”

Cupid licked my cheek, which I took to mean he missed me, too. Ironically enough, he was the reason I’d met Grant in the first place. I’d just gotten the little Labrador retriever and was still trying out a few monikers when I’d taken him to the park to get some exercise. A group of cute guys were tossing around a Frisbee nearby, and my little puppy, doing what he was meant to do, chased after the yellow disk. He tried to get it in his mouth, but it was big compared to him, and he was having trouble carrying it. Grant smiled down at him, then squatted and patted his head.

I was pretty much a goner at that moment, between the killer dimpled smile and the fact that he was being nice to my dog.

Then my puppy lifted his leg and peed on the guy’s shoe. I turned three shades of red and apologized profusely, but Grant took it all in stride, and by some miracle, asked if he could call me sometime. If that’s not a meant-to-be love story, I don’t know what is.

So I’d called my little doggie Cupid that night, and the name stuck. He was much better trained now, too. When he wanted to be, and with the right motivation, anyway. But he was just one more part of my life that was wound so tightly with Grant’s that it was hard to separate who I even was without him.

“Dakota?” Grant came from the back of the house, and I remained crouched by my dog, despite the burning in my thighs. It felt safer. And honestly, I was tempted to ask Cupid to pee on him again. “I was starting to think you’d never talk to me.”

“I’m here for some of my things. And as soon as I find a place that takes dogs, I’ll be back for Cupid.” I risked a glance at Grant’s face—the one I’d fallen in love with all those months ago but which caused my chest to constrict now. “You can take care of him for me until I find one, right?”

“As long as you need me to,” Grant said softly. His naturally wavy dark hair was slightly longer than normal, and he hadn’t shaved in a while—he must not have gone in to work yet. As usual, he wore a fitted polo shirt. When he’d picked me up for our first date, I’d thought he might be too preppy for me. I’d grown to love that about him, though, how he always dressed nice and acted like a proper gentleman. So opposite of most of my former boyfriends.

I stood before my thighs decided to lock in place. I couldn’t get over how weird it was to see Grant now that everything had changed. I’d expected to feel more anger and less heart-tugging.

“How many times do you need me to say I’m sorry?” he asked with a sigh, as if the question exhausted him.

That extinguished the heart-tugging. I clenched my fists at my sides. “You jilted me at the altar, Grant. You left me standing in a wedding dress on a foreign shore while everyone stared at the poor lonely bride. Then the first thing I had to do when I got home was cancel the reception, which was extra awkward considering I’d used all the vendors I usually work with. Sorry doesn’t quite cut it.”

When I’d finally found him the night we were supposed to get married, he’d told me that he just wasn’t ready. There was a pathetic “sorry” thrown in, too, but I’d been too utterly crushed to really process any of it. “You didn’t even explain. Didn’t tell me why.”

“I tried, but you threatened to throw an ice bucket at my head.”

Oh. Right. That was when the She-Hulk had taken over my body and red was all I could see. But now everything ached, inside and out, from my muscles to my heart, and I needed to get the answer and move on with my life. “Then tell me now. What happened? And if you didn’t want to marry me, why did you propose in the first place?”

“I did want to marry you.” He reached his hand toward my shoulder and I took a large step back, bumping against the door. Cupid moved in front of me, creating a barrier, though he seemed confused as to what was happening. His black muzzle moved back and forth from me to Grant. “It was just all happening so fast, and I needed more time.”

I jabbed a finger at him. “
You’re
the one who suggested the cruise. You said the planning was too stressful and that you’d rather just have it done so we could start our life together.”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

Grant ran a hand through his hair. “An ex-girlfriend came to visit me the week before our wedding—”

“You…cheated on me?” Icy fingers gripped my heart and lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter. I’d suspected the possibility of someone else, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it.

“No!” Grant’s blue eyes flew wide. “I’d never do that to you, Dakota, I swear.”