Secret North: Book 4 of The Wishes Series (44 page)

***

On a day of many firsts, drinking a glass of scotch at one in the afternoon was added to the list. I felt better for it. Without the distraction of shaking hands, explaining the drama of the morning was much easier.

“So the whole family bailed?” Adam asked incredulously.

In fairness, Ivy hadn’t bailed. I knew her well enough to know she would’ve moved heaven and earth to see her sister, the squealers and her sparkly dresses walk down the aisle.

“All three of them are in a bad way. I heard puking in the background.” I shuddered at the memory. “Food poisoning.”

“Ugh.” Adam, pulled a face. “Tough break.”

“Bridget’s good to go, though. Right?” Bente needed the support of at least one little girl in a red dress, even if it was Bridget.

He grinned at me, doing his best proud papa impersonation. “She looks so freaking cute, Ryan,” he boasted. “She wouldn’t lose the boots though.”

I laughed. “Mom is going to kill someone if Bridget turns up in galoshes. It’s bad enough that she’s two bridesmaids down already.”

Adam was shaking his head before I’d got the words out. “Mom bought the boots. She found red ones to match her dress.”

“Huh.” I set my glass down. “She must be mellowing.”

“Maybe,” he replied. “I wish Dad would.”

It was probably going to be a tense day for Adam and Charli. They hadn’t seen or spoken to the king in the three weeks since Adam pulled the pin on his job. I made a mental note to be as far away as possible when they crossed paths. Even being in a church wasn’t likely to save them from his wrath. I tried to play it down. “What’s the worst he can do?”

“Nothing,” he replied confidently. “There’s nothing he can do, which is the main reason he’s so mad.”

I shook my head, trying to shake free of the ugly family related tension. “He’s giving Bente away.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah.”

“He likes Bente, Ryan.”

“He likes Charli too…. way down deep in his soul.”

Adam grinned wryly. “I know he does.”

“If she wasn’t such a fruitcake, he’d go easier on her,” I added.

“I like that she’s a fruitcake. She’s my fruitcake,” he said proudly.

I couldn’t help smiling. As deluded as I thought he was at times, it was really impressive that six years down the road, he still considered Charlotte his biggest coup.

“Do you think we’ll be as happy?” I asked.

Adam leaned back in the cushion, picking invisible lint off his trousers. “It’s not difficult, Ryan,” he replied. “Accept that you’re an idiot and let Bente take care of the rest.”

I didn’t understand. He explained carefully.

“Décarie men are stupid,” he began. “It started with Dad.”

“What did?”

“The stubborn, selfish thoughtlessness that makes us deficient.”

I felt my shoulders sag. It was impossible not to feel disheartened. I was all these things, despite the huge effort I’d made to change my ways.

My brother reached across and slapped me on the back. “Don’t stress about it,” he urged. “The universe came up with a solution.” Despite the fairy-speak, I let him continue. “We’re sent beautiful, forgiving wives who are ten times smarter than we can ever hope to be. It evens the score and balances things out.”

I glanced across at him, immediately noticing his stupid grin. “Bente is much smarter than me,” I agreed.

“She needs to be,” he told me. “You need all the help you can get. You’re even dumber than I am.”

76. FOLLOWING RULES

Bente

I freaking hated my dress. It was so weighted down with beads and diamantes that walking was difficult. I’d given up trying, and spent the last hour parked on a chair in the middle of the living room – not that I had much choice.

The stylists Fiona had commissioned to transform me into a bride befitting her son had been primping and tugging and pulling at me since they walked in the door. Finally deciding that enough was enough, Charli all but kicked them out. “She’s done,” she said firmly, handing the women their supplies. “She’s gorgeous. Thank you. Good job.”

“What about the little one?” asked one of the women.

“She’s four,” replied Charli. “She’s not being made up.”

“But what about her hair?” asked another, waving a brush at her.

Charli opened the door and herded them out like wayward sheep. “I’ll take care of it,” she assured. “Thanks for everything.”

She closed the door and I took my first breath of the hour.

“Better?”

“Thank you.”

“Are you okay, Bente?”

Her question opened a floodgate of emotions I’d been holding back since dawn. I inexplicably burst into tears, ruining my inch-thick makeup in an instant.

Bridget got to me before Charli did. “Don’t cry, Bente,” she soothed. “It’s a happy, happy day today.” She patted my knee.

A painful sob caught in my throat. “I know, baby. I am happy.”

Charli thrust a handful of tissues at me. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

Dabbing my eyes was futile. I could practically feel the mascara running down my cheeks. “Were you nervous before your wedding?” I asked.

“I can’t actually remember.” She half smiled. “I can remember being really excited, though. It was like setting off on a huge big adventure without having a clue where we were headed.”

There was still excitement in her voice. It made me wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I desperately wanted to marry Ryan. I’d spent weeks promising myself that I could get through this day to make that happen. I was beginning to realise I’d been lying to myself the entire time. How I handled that would probably determine my whole future.

From the minute I broke into the Décarie circle, my game plan was to lie low and gain acceptance by toeing the line. I wasn’t like Charli. I didn’t resent the trappings of wealth and I found no joy in rebelling against the lifestyle. But there were consequences for being easygoing and agreeable. The consequences that day were champagne fountains, beaded dresses and a hopeless feeling of dread.

I looked at my dress. “Look at me, Charli.” I thumped my hands on my lap. “This is just the beginning of a day of madness.”

“Oh, Bente,” she said pityingly. “How did you wind up in this mess?”

Admitting to treason was harder than I thought it would be. The words came out in a pathetic mumble. “I just went with the flow and followed the rules.” And now I was drowning. “I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I should’ve been braver and spoken up weeks ago.”

I waited for her to say something encouraging enough to pull me out of my funk. It took a while, but she finally came through. “Following the rules only takes you so far,” she said gently. “Sooner or later you have to forget them and play by your heart.”

I nodded in complete agreement.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

I bunched up my skirt as if I was screwing up paper. “Not this,” I whispered hoarsely. “I can’t go through with it.”

77. MITIGATING DAMAGES

Ryan

Not a single phone call that day had brought good news, so when Adam’s phone rang I was preparing for the worst. When he turned his back on me and began speaking in a muted whisper, I knew I was right to be worried. An excruciating length of time passed before he turned to me.

“Now don’t panic,” he warned, “but there’s been a slight hitch.”

“What hitch?”

Even with extra thinking time he wasn’t able to word it gently. “That was Charli,” he began. “Bente just called off the wedding.”

That wasn’t a slight hitch. It was a catastrophic disaster.

I fell back onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. “Just freaking perfect.”

I wasn’t even shocked. I knew it was on the cards from the minute I woke that morning, which meant I should’ve been better prepared for it. Instead, I could feel my hands beginning to shake as despair set in.

“I said don’t panic,” Adam repeated. “Charli wants us to go over there.”

I shook my head. “I can’t deal with this, Adam.”

Adam grabbed my arm and forced me to my feet. “You have to,” he demanded. “Some things don’t go according to plan, Ryan. Just change course and get back on track.”

“How?” I demanded.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Let’s just get over there and figure something out.”

***

Along with the rest of the day, the weather had taken a nasty turn. If I was superstitious, I’d probably consider it to be another bad omen to add to the list. But I couldn’t allow craziness to take hold, so I put it down to it being stock standard October weather. I leaned my head against the window of the cab, enjoying the coolness of the glass while rain beaded on the outside.

The usually short journey seemed to take forever, made even longer by the fact that neither of us said a word. I don’t know what was occupying Adam’s thoughts, but I was busy trying to work out how I’d cope if Bente had called us off as well as the wedding.

I knew I didn’t deserve her, but no matter how deficient I was in some areas I’d given her my all. That had to count for something, and I planned to remind her of that while I was begging her to change her mind.

Avoiding the rain gave me a good excuse to run from the cab to the door without seeming desperate. I bolted through the foyer, quickly thanking the doorman on the way past. But by the time we got to the eighth floor I’d well and truly slowed my roll. I had no idea what to expect when I walked in, and no clue what to say.

Bente was on a chair in the centre of the room, looking miserable and swamped by an excess of white fabric that she’d bunched up on her lap. Charli was nowhere to be seen. At least Bridget was happy to see us. She scooted across the room to her dad, pausing briefly to gift me a quick leg hug on the way.

“Look at my dress, Daddy,” she demanded. “I’m still very clean.”

“Nice work, baby.” He scooped her up and turned to me. “We’ll leave you two to talk,” he offered before carrying Bridget down the hall.

I appreciated the gesture, but a private moment was all but impossible in that apartment. Ignoring the fact that my brother and his family were holed up in the bedroom, I set about trying to reclaim my happy-ever-after.

I crouched in front of Bente. “Hi,” I said weakly.

“Hello,” she whispered.

I put my hand under her chin and tilted her head so she’d look at me. “What’s going on?” I asked gently.

“I can’t go through with it, Ryan,” she replied. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could but I can’t.”

Her demeanour was perfectly calm, zombie like. She looked a bit like a zombie too. Long streaks of black marked the tracks of tears. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d finally had enough and called it off. I was the worst offender when it came to pressuring her. I’d pushed for an early wedding date and then had the nerve to take a step back when the drama of planning it took hold. She’d tried to tell me a hundred times that it was becoming too much to bear. I was under the assumption that we’d both be able to suck it up and handle it. Clearly I was wrong. Pecan pie girl folded at the finish line.

Begging her to change her mind seemed pointless, but I was desperate enough to try. I plotted a very good argument in my head. It was long and detailed and perfectly summed up my feelings. What came out of my mouth was somewhat lacking. “I love you. I wonder if you know that?” I couldn’t be sure. At that point, I wasn’t sure about anything.

Hope flooded my body as she answered. “I know how you feel about me, Ry.”

“It’s not about what I feel for you, Bente,” I clarified. “It’s about what I’ve never felt for anyone
but
you. Please don’t take that away from me.”

She let go of her bunched up dress and fell forward, throwing her arms around my neck. “I’m not taking anything away,” she whispered in my ear. “I just don’t want to do it this way.”

I felt a moment of relief until thoughts of the bigger picture kicked in. Calling off the wedding was going to be a logistical nightmare. In just over an hour, three hundred guests were due to front up at church expecting to see us get married.

I released my hold on Bente and stood. The zombie bride remained glued to the chair.

“Right,” I muttered, trying to figure out some semblance of a plan. “We can still make it work. A quickie wedding at the marriage bureau. What do you think?”

Bente nodded weakly. “Sounds good.”

It wasn’t ideal. She’d vetoed that idea when I first mentioned it, hoping for something slightly grander. But the alternative now terrified her so much that a quick civil ceremony had become her dream wedding by default.

“I’m going to have to call my parents,” I said bleakly. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” she whimpered, getting upset again. “I’ve put you in a horrible position.”

I reached for her hands and pulled her to her feet. “No you haven’t. As long as we’re together, my position is good.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Mom was going to be devastated, embarrassed and probably hysterical. And when she recovered she’d surely kill me, which meant my position wasn’t good at all. But Bente didn’t need to hear this, so I didn’t share the thought. I turned around at the sound of little feet stampeding down the hall.