Save the Date (6 page)

A fog swirled in Lucy’s head as she watched Matt’s hands grip her key and unlock her apartment door. Hands that had held her. Then let her go.

Inside, Lucy sat on the edge of the couch and finally found her voice. “How long have you been back?”

Keeping his eyes on hers, Matt eased into the chair across from her. “I’ve missed you.” He ran a hand over his face. “Do you have any idea how much?”

She stared at a spot near his polished black shoes. “Your occasional e-mails the past few years didn’t say.”

And then he was sitting next to her, his hand reaching for hers. “Lucy, I’ve got to catch a late plane, and I hate that we can’t take all the time we need. But you have to believe me, I want you back in my life. I’ve been lost without you.”

“You knew I assumed you were proposing that night two years ago. I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.” The old hurt lodged in her throat and made her words hoarse. “I can’t do this right now, Matt.”

He reached for her as she stood. “When I get back next week, I’m going to prove to you that I can be that man you wanted.”

“I don’t know.” Looking at Matt right now, she knew it would be so easy to just fall back into love with him again. But was that a good thing?

“Whatever it takes and however long it takes. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned toward her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Except for right now because that red-eye flight isn’t going to wait on some accountant.” His eyes were locked on hers as he opened the door. “I love you, Lucy. Believe that.”

And then he was gone.

The last time he had left her apartment, he had taken her heart.

And Lucy just didn’t know if she had another one left to give.

Chapter Five

H
er life could be an Emmy-winning soap opera. Between the stress of Saving Grace’s money woes, Friday night’s fiasco, and Matt’s return, Lucy had about all the drama she could take.

“Yes, this is Lucy Wiltshire. I’m calling for Mr. Greene. Again.” Lucy tapped a pen on the laminate top of her desk. She needed to know the scope of how much trouble Saving Grace was in, and she couldn’t even get the landlord to call her back. Maybe he
wasn’t
selling out to the city. “Tell him I need him to return my call, please. It’s urgent.”

Her head weighed too much for her shoulders today, and her eyes burned with a lack of sleep. The Monday morning sun shone through the small windows of the room, but her mood was anything but bright. She hadn’t slept the entire weekend. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her past and future looming over her like the Grim Reaper coming to make his next collection.

She lifted a glass of water from the desk and sipped.

“I’d be drinking, too, if I’d had the weekend you apparently had.”

Morgan breezed her way into the office, looking annoyingly fresh and beautiful. She had the dark, long hair of some exotic beauty and a tall, trim figure that belonged on the catwalk. It was a wonder Lucy let the woman be her friend. Chuck ambled in behind her, his ear pressed to his phone.

Morgan took a chair across from Lucy’s desk. “Start talking.”

The headache was now a pounding drum. “About what?”

“You can’t text me something like ‘Matt just left my house’ and expect me to let it go. I called you all weekend.”

Chuck put down his phone. “Cough up the details.”

“Don’t you two have to be at work?”

“Going in late so we can take Shayla out for breakfast.” Every girl at Saving Grace was assigned three mentors. Morgan was partnered with a twenty-year-old who was struggling through her first semester at the community college. “Now talk.”

Lucy gave her friends the quick play-by-play, right down to the last slippery shrimp detail.

“Well, obviously you need an umbrella,” Morgan said. “Because, girl, it’s raining men.” She plopped a newspaper on the scarred surface of the desk.

“What?” Lucy took a drink and picked up the front page. Water spewed from her lips. “What the heck?” Wiping her mouth she pressed the paper closer to her face. “What is this? Some sort of joke?”

There, on page one of the
Charleston Post,
was a picture of Lucy wrapped in Alex’s arms as they danced at the gala. She read the headline aloud. “The Prince and Cinderella?” She scanned the first paragraph, which reported that Alex Sinclair, millionaire football star, was dating Lucy Wiltshire, director of a struggling nonprofit. It read like a romance novel starring Prince William and a lowly commoner.

“This is ridiculous.” She kept reading. “Total trash. Like I would date him.” Like Alex would date
her
. How people must be laughing.

“There’s more.” Morgan handed her another paper. “Girls’ home director snares South Carolina’s favorite football hero. Will she show him how the home fires burn?”

“Okay, now it’s not only inaccurate, but really horrible journalism. That reporter should be fired for the bad writing alone.”

Lucy grabbed a paper from the stack. Her pulse tripled at the sight of the pictures. One of her in Alex’s jacket, standing inches away from him. Staring into his eyes. She couldn’t even bring herself to read the caption beneath it. The next photo was the worst. A close-up of Alex brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. Taken out of context, it looked . . . intimate.

Chuck wiggled his eyebrows. “Something you want to tell us?”

Lucy dropped the paper to the desk. “Don’t be crazy. I . . . he . . . we . . .” There were no words.

“I’m a pastor.” Chuck adjusted the bill of his USC baseball cap. “Confession is good for the soul, my child.”

Morgan smiled. “You do look good together.”

“Hmph.”
Alex would make anyone look good. That dark hair, with the slightest of wave. Body chiseled by years on the field, hours in the gym, and possibly a handshake with the devil. A face that belonged in movies. And who was she? A girl who apparently didn’t know how to buy a fully functioning little black dress.

“With all these options, we could have a double wedding.” Morgan jerked her thumb toward Chuck, who had managed to duck out of all the preparations so far. “Though I’m not sure
this
guy is even going to show.”

The groom-to-be managed to look suitably contrite. “Of course I’m going to show.”

“Yeah, in your jeans and flip-flops.” Morgan turned on him. “You haven’t even finalized your part of the rehearsal dinner guest list, honey. How hard is it to get your ten closest family members to confirm?”

“I’m a busy man,” Chuck said with his ever-present grin. “I save souls all day.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “Yesterday you were golfing with the deacons.”

“I can honestly say there was a lot of prayer going on.”

With months left before the wedding, it was a familiar argument of late, and Morgan switched to a different prickly topic. “Any progress on Saving Grace?”

Lucy was growing sick of that question. “If worry had any value, we’d have a new home South of Broad,” Lucy said. “I’ve called every business and person of interest in the county. The same list we try every year. We got two more individual donors, but nothing that could touch next year’s operation costs.”

“Maybe we can get the church behind this.”

“Chuck, a bake sale isn’t going to save us,” Lucy said. “We need a serious miracle.”

“I happen to have connections.” He held out both of his hands. Wiggled his fingers. “Let us now pray and ask for one ginormo miracle.”

And so they did. With head bowed, Chuck sent up his holy request for a timely solution for Saving Grace. For each young woman in the home to be protected, secure. And for God to move swiftly and in a drastically creative way.

Lucy held on to her friends’ hands, drawing strength from their friendship, and for their hearts for God. Every fiber of her being sang in agreement with Chuck’s words.
Lord, be big. Be bold
.

And be quick
.

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “It means a lot to have your support.”

“God loves those girls, too, Luce.” Morgan gave Lucy’s hand a final squeeze. “Whatever happens will become a cool part of the Saving Grace legacy.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “So what are you going to tell Matt?”

“He and I are not a couple. Just because he waltzed back into town and said all sorts of completely wonderful, beautiful, and totally convincing things does not mean that we’re getting back together.” Yet.

Morgan shook her head. “That boy broke your heart two years ago. Don’t forget how we nursed you back to life. How we stayed up late every weekend and watched
Star Wars
. How we fed you Blue Bell ice cream until you could face the world again.”

Lucy still had the extra ten pounds to prove it. “He does seem more settled, though. Different.”

Chuck sighed. “All those banana splits and the man
still
isn’t out of your system.”

“God has brought him back into my life for a reason.” Matt was still everything she ever wanted—stable, handsome, kind.

Morgan sighed and eyed her friend. “Just promise me you won’t do something crazy.”

“Me? Do something crazy?” She picked up a paper and tapped Alex Sinclair’s face. “Like romance an American football hero?”

Morgan laughed. “At least we don’t ever have to worry about
that
one.”

Chapter Six

A
lex sat behind his desk with one ear to the phone, one ear to his campaign advisors, and both eyes on ESPN. He had a headache that pounded harder than a three-man tackle, and the tabloid in his hand only sharpened the edge of his mood.

Lauren Billings sat down and crossed her legs. “Your approval ratings continue to skyrocket.”

He nodded vacantly and spoke into the phone. “I’ll stop by for a visit as soon as I can, Dad, but I’m still out for family dinner night, so tell Mom to quit forcing people to harass me. If I get a call from Aunt Marge, I’ll boycott Fourth of July as well.” Alex scanned a report as his father talked. “Because I have too much to do. Campaigns don’t stop for holidays. . . . Yes, I understand I’m breaking my mother’s heart.” He held up a finger to his waiting advisors. “Just tell Finley I’ll take her out to lunch sometime soon.” His guilt spiked at the mention of his seventeen-year-old sister. Alex had been fifteen when Finley had unexpectedly come along, yet he and his twin had fallen in love with her. He knew his sister was struggling this year. The whole family was. But Alex had a drowning campaign to save, and right now that came first.

“Have you seen your latest numbers?” David Spear pushed another report across Alex’s desk as soon as the call was over.

Alex clicked off the TV and finally gave his full attention to the two in his office. When he’d set out to find the best political advisors and campaign managers, he hadn’t settled for anything less than the best. David and Lauren had each worked on successful presidential campaigns. They were tireless and they were bulldogs. Two qualities Alex admired. And needed.

He scanned over the document in his hands. “This is . . . unexpected.”

“It’s phenomenal progress in a remarkably short amount of time,” David said.

The leather of Alex’s chair crunched as he leaned back. “Maybe it’s those revamped TV ads.”

“You know perfectly well what it is.” Lauren stood up and grabbed the magazine. With a French manicured nail, she pointed at page twelve. “
In Touch
magazine says you and Lucy Wiltshire are serious. Do you know how many calls for interviews we’ve had since your gala pictures hit the press two weeks ago? People love the down-home feel of this relationship. It’s exactly what we’ve been missing.”

“Too bad. Find something else to sway voters.” He stretched the tight muscles in his neck. They had been going strong since six a.m. on this Thursday morning. By the time he finished up here and squeezed in a workout, it would be too late to even eat dinner.

“Your current mode of operation is getting us nowhere but second place.” Dave loosened the tie at his neck. The man didn’t believe in dressing down, even on weekends. Alex didn’t know if he admired that or resented it. “You’re one of the most well-known people in the country. There’s no point in pretending you don’t live in a fishbowl. You can either show the public some of your life, or as we saw a few weeks ago in
People
, they’ll just make it up to suit themselves. And frankly, your personal life has been a crucial problem here.”

“I still want to do a few pieces on the loss of your brother,” Lauren said. “I really think if you sat down with
Good Morning America
and finally spoke about—”

“No.” Just the thought of it made him want to tear someone apart. Only yesterday his own investigative team had called with some leads about possible sightings of his brother. He was afraid to be hopeful. “That topic is off-limits.” A year since his brother had been gone. It had both moved too quickly and not fast enough. Six months to the day Will went missing, Alex had walked away from football. Besides the blown-out knee, the game had lost it lure. The fast-paced life had burned him out, and he was ready for a change.

“All they’re seeing is the celebrity side of you.” David stood up and planted his hands on the desk. “If you want to eclipse your playboy jock reputation, it’s going to take some sacrifice.” He gestured to the open page. “And crazy as it is, your involvement with Ms. Wiltshire seems to speak to people. Shows them a side of you they’ve yet to see.”

“There is no involvement with Lucy Wiltshire beyond—”

“We’re your campaign managers,” Lauren said. “If you can’t be honest with us, who can you be honest with?”

“I’m running for office,” he said with a wry grin. “I don’t have to be honest.”

“
Entertainment Tonight
has called twice since the first pictures ran,” Lauren said. “They want a quote.”

“There is no quote. There is no Lucy—”

“If you want to win this thing, it’s time to get aggressive.”

As Lauren interrupted him again, Alex watched her brush a strand of dark hair from her cheek. The woman was beautiful. Legs that a cheerleader would envy. A brain just as potent as her model’s face. And part of him knew, from years of experience, that she wouldn’t turn him down if he suggested a little dinner and candlelight in their off-hours.