Late to the Wedding Read online

  She moved slowly towards the ballroom doorway, slipping past a crowd of guests filtering in under the guidance of two pageboys in tuxedos. Sinking down on a plush velvet sofa on the other side, she watched numbly as people entered the room and filled the rows of chairs, the floral corsages fastened to the sides.

  Don’t do this, Evie. Wouldn’t he be proud of her at this moment, letting Jared walk away?

  Piano chords struck up the beginning notes of the wedding march, the audience turning as one to view the bride’s entrance. Evelyn was among the first to glimpse the bride as she waited in the doorway, her arm cupped by an older man in a tuxedo. The bride’s glance moving from the man beside her to Jared’s face as he stood waiting, a look of adoration as he watched her.

  They love each other. Evelyn’s fingers touched the silent tears which now escaped her eyes unchecked. Head resting on her hands, she sat sobbing in the lonely lobby, aware of the joy separated from her by only a wall, the muffled sounds of a wedding ceremony.

  Jared was lost to her, but that wasn’t the most painful part. She was crying not for the sake of a lost love, but a love that never had a chance to grow. The one she walked away from that morning in Birmingham.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Strains of Pachelbel’s Cannon in D floated through the air in the form of a small lawn orchestra. The rain had given way to a burst of sunshine after the ceremony, allowing Jared’s wedding guests to mingle in the plantation’s ornamental garden. Small groups were gathered in conversation, people balancing glasses of wine and plates of finger foods. And among one of these groups was Evelyn, her smile subdued, traces of red still visible beneath her eyes.

  “Are you a friend of the bride’s?” inquired a lady with a floppy hat, her gloved hand choosing a caviar tidbit from a passing tray. Her sharp little eyes narrowing as she waited for a reply, teeth sinking into the hors d’ vour with relish.

  “The groom’s actually. From New York.” Evelyn bit her lip, feeling more than a little foolish. The plantation had no cell reception, making her escape impossible until she could find a plantation employee who would let her use the phone. In the meantime, she would do her best to hide her embarrassment as she dodged the happy bride and groom.

  It was only a matter of time before Jared or one of his family members spotted her and beckoned her over. The polite questions and conversation that followed would complete her humiliation. A wretched, desperate woman showing up at her ex-fiancé’s wedding to crash the ceremony, now a pitiful stand-in for her busy brother. A woman with so little in her personal life that it was easy for her to race cross-country to a former flame’s wedding.

  “Strange, really,” the woman observed, making her heart jump nervously. “I heard very few of his old friends were able to make it for the wedding. Something about the storm system canceling everyone’s flights.”

  Self-consciously, Evelyn dropped her gaze to the glass of wine in her hand. “Yes, I had a little trouble with that, but I…I wanted to be here for him.” Not exactly true, but then she couldn’t share the real reason.

  “How nice,” said the woman, “Excuse me for a moment, won’t you? I see someone I really must speak to.” As she moved away, Evelyn drifted towards the wall of hydrangeas. Her fingers flipping open her cell phone in vain hope of finding a signal long enough to arrange some transportation to the airport. Which, as far as she knew, was up and running again with clear skies all around.

  A sea of guests parted around her, as if she were invisible in their midst. Ahead, another cluster in conversation, a man in a grey suit directly before her. Lean face clean shaven, hair gently tousled with mousse. Fingers holding a punch cup in a casual pose as his eyes met hers.

  She stared at him. It was impossible. It couldn’t be real.

  “There she is,” Brian gestured towards her with his cup. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said.

  “This young man was telling me how excited you were to see Jared’s wedding.” The woman’s beaming face turned towards her, one Evelyn recognized from a family dinner she once attended with Jared, an aunt from his father’s side.

  For a moment, Evelyn had no voice. Then a faint sound escaped her lips.

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice strengthening once it emerged. “Yes, I was. And this is–”

  “Oh, we’ve met,” Jared’s aunt assured her. “Your boyfriend. I suppose it won’t be long until you two are engaged as well?”

  Brian met her eyes with a strange flicker of apology. A blush stole across Evelyn’s face, a smile forming as she gazed into his eyes.

  “Maybe so,” she said. “I suppose Jared’s set an example for the singles crowd, hasn’t he?” She felt Brian’s fingers interlace with hers, cradling her hand in a warm embrace.

  “Sorry I was late,” he whispered. “Stuck in traffic.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “All that matters is you’re here.” Her voice was soft, in response to something deep in his eyes. Leaning down, he pressed his lips against hers, a gentle kiss that surprised her.

  “Excuse us for a minute,” he said, taking her arm and directing her down the path towards the gate. Ahead was the row of parked cars, the Sedan visible among them. She pulled her arm away from Brian’s, now that they were out of sight of the wedding guests.

  “Your ride home is parked over here, Miss Chase,” said Brian. “If you want it. Just climb inside.”

  She turned slowly around, her gaze falling on Brian instead of his car. She had noticed its layers of grime and dust had washed away to reveal a still reasonably sleek paint job, a sign that he had made an effort with its appearance.

  “What do you say?” he asked. “I already stole your bag from the lobby, so you pretty much have to say ‘yes’ if you ever want to see it again.” With an irresistible grin.

  “Why?” she asked. Even though she thought the answer was obvious, she asked anyway. A fluttering sensation returned to her chest. “Why did you come?”

  “Because some things are meant to be,” he answered.

  No trace of jest visible in his features, only a look of hope as he waited for her answer.

  Evelyn’s lips pressed against his, her arms twining round his neck. A passionate, breathless embrace that might have seemed less strange to any passing guests had the ‘Just Married’ sign been tacked to the Sedan, rather than Jared’s car.

  “I guess destiny was involved in this,” Evelyn sighed, her finger stroking his cheek.

  “Right destiny, wrong person,” he whispered back. “That was your only problem before.”

  Despite herself, Evelyn giggled. She felt Brian’s fingers grip her hand, towing her along towards the Sedan’s passenger door. He popped it open for her, letting her slide inside before he hopped into the driver’s seat.

  She clicked her seat belt in place and pretended to reach for the glove compartment. “Should I get out the map?” she asked, playfully.

  “I think we know the way home,” he answered, with a grin. Flicking the ignition switch, to bring the car’s engine to life, along with the radio. Its speakers blasting the familiar sounds of the Beatle’s “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

  Their eyes met for an instant, as if the static of their hitchhiker’s good karma had infused the radio’s speakers for a moment. As if the universe fell into place with sunshine and songs, a meeting of two souls that had more in common than either would have dreamed.

  “Let me lead this time, okay?” A hint of mischief glimmered in Evelyn’s eyes, their depths shining with a happiness she had been resisting for days. Enjoying the look of tenderness in Brian’s face, his mouth twisting into a smile of response.

  “You got it,” he answered. As she turned the volume higher, their voices and laughter merging in the lyrics of the song as the Sedan’s wheels turned homewards on the gravel road.

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  Excerpt from Free for the Wedding

  The lighthearted romantic novella from the author of best-selling Late to the Wedding

  “Valarie?” A man’s voice, his tone young but with the depth of maturity. In the background, the shouts and scuffling noises of a gymnasium.

  “This is Valarie,” she answered, racking her brain for who could be placing a social call. Not her date for this evening, since he possessed a mellow voice and had mentioned he gave up athletics after spraining a thumb playing table tennis.

  No exes in her past, of course. Just a series of acquaintances that seldom made it past the casual luncheon and a string of crushes who were never aware at all that Val glanced longingly in their direction.

  “It’s Jason,” the voice on the other end continued. “Jason Cotter–you know, from Wardruff High School? Aka, the good old days?”

  Val fumbled the computer mouse, inadvertently launching the half-finished memo into cyber space, although she was barely registering her mistake in the wake of this unforeseen development. Clutching the receiver with both hands–in order to keep from dropping it–she managed to choke out a reply.

  “Jason! Of course, how are you? It’s been–”

  “–forever,” he supplied with a laugh that threatened to make her heart wobble. And instantly brought to mind the youngest member of Wardruff High’s football team, the running back hero, with his carefree smile and effortless golden hair.

  She knew from spying on his social network page a couple times–until he switched from public access to private–that he’d developed a lean physique and many more muscles since their days of sharing a lunch table in the school cafeteria. His picture was the only update she had access to these days. It had never occurred to her to 'friend' him or expect him to do the same–much less have him actually phone her up.

  “So are you needing an event planned?” she joked, with a little laugh to keep herself from completely melting down as her heart pounded. The crush of a lifetime, the love of her life, she had believed as an adolescent in braces and a teenager who lurked outside the football field on practice days. She remembered those feelings keenly, explaining why her knees were weak and her grown-up self was yearning towards the sound of his voice.

  “That’s a good guess, but it’s not exactly why I called. By the way, sorry to phone you at work like this, but I couldn’t find a listing for your home number.”

  Jason Cotter wants my number? Her eyes sank closed, her fingers clutching the edge of the desk in a surreal moment. As if she were fourteen again and gazing at the back of his head in math class as the teacher droned on about polynomials.

  “I–I just changed apartments,” she stammered. “Which is probably why you couldn’t find me. Because it’s not like I’m hiding or anything.” With a cringe for how nervous she sounded, babbling on like some girl with a crush. Which she had been–over a decade ago, of course.

  “Yeah, that makes sense,” he chuckled, the shrill note of a whistle echoing somewhere close behind him. “Sheesh–I know that was loud. I’m kind of on the job here. Covering a basketball game for the Richmond Tribune.”

  “You’re a journalist?” She waved away a work colleague who paused in the doorway to hoist a coffee pot invitingly.

  “Sports columnist,” he said. “Big surprise, right?”

  She had pictured him still playing football somehow. His profile picture certainly indicated he was fit enough for the task.

  “Anyway,” said Jason, “the only address I’ve got for you is from a Christmas card you sent a couple years back and I guess I sort of lost it. I didn't want to use one online, because I’d hate for the invitation to get lost...”

  “Invitation?” Val frowned, a new wave of confusion flooding her. A small stirring of foreboding which put an end to the blushes over his sudden call.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Do you remember that class reunion the school held last May?”

  “Ummm…” She stalled for time. She hadn’t gone to her high school reunion for a variety of reasons, but mainly because she was still an office assistant as Corky Simmons had predicted their senior year, and was still sporting a slight spare tire around her waist which her cocktail dress didn't hide.

  There was a slim chance in her mind at the time that someone like Jason might be there and that she didn't want to face him as the same old helpful, wide-eyed Val who traded papers with him in chemistry study group.

  Was he inviting her to another one? She couldn’t imagine the classmates getting together for something impromptu and hoped another five years would be passing before she would face them as a group. Long enough for her to become a senior event planner, buy the perfect house in Connecticut, maybe even have a serious relationship or engagement.

  “I had to work that weekend,” she said, finding the first viable excuse. “I heard it was a real blast though–I mean, some of our old classmates mentioned it on their twitter feeds.”

  “Hey, I can’t speak for anyone else,” he said, “but it was pretty much the best day of my life. It’s where I ran into Heather again. You still know Heather Sykes, of course. ”

  Heather. As in her best friend from grades four-through-twelve Heather. As in tall, blonde Heather with the perky smile and revolving door of admirers, from whom Val was inseparable from the moment they first played Barbies together in Forest Park's concrete playground.

  “Yeah,” she said faintly. “Of course I know Heather. We still talk–” Actually, it had been a long time since their last phone or email exchange, she reflected. Over a year maybe. Heather's form of communication tended to be sporadic and flighty, centered on major events or a desire to vent frustrations.

  The gymnasium sounds grew fainter, as if he’d ducked down an empty corridor. “We talked for hours and it turns out we’d both been living in Virginia since college,” he said. “Crazy coincidence, right? So after the reunion we started dating and one thing led to another and well…we’re getting married in June.”

  “Wow.” Her lips felt numb as they formed the word.

  Was she surprised? Jealous? Surely not–not given all the time that had passed since the three of them were gawky teenagers and high school friends. She fought back her momentary shock quickly enough to add in a warmer tone, “That’s great, Jason. Congratulations.”

  “I can’t believe it either.” He was laughing now, excitement audible in his tone as he launched into his story. “There she was, standing right by the big fish tank in the recreation room. They started playing that song we all used to love so much–the one by that band something-or-other–”

  “Hootie and the Blowfish,” said Val automatically, the song lyrics to "I Only Want To Be With You" popping into her head. Then blushed as she realized how weird it sounded that she still remembered.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “That’s it. So I worked up the courage to ask her for a dance, and I could tell she wasn’t exactly swept off her feet, but we took to the floor ...”

  Val’s head sank slowly onto her desk as the voice on the other end continued on. Her head snapped back to attention as he finished with, “…and when I mentioned that note I gave her back in ninth grade, well, it just seemed kind of destined.”

  Her heart dropped, her eyes growing wide. “The note?” she echoed. Oh, no. Not the note. Please, please don’t let it be what I’m thinking…

>   A Chick-Lit Austenesque Romance, A Modern Twist on Pride and Prejudice

  Available in Softcover and E-book

  Also Available in a special U.K. Edition for fans of British spelling, words, grammar, and slang!

  Excerpt from Dear Miss Darcy:

  She was ten minutes early to the restaurant, but only because she hadn’t changed after office hours. Checking her jacket, she surveyed the lavender dress in the lobby mirror and stole a glance at her heels for signs of smudges. Nothing amiss, everything perfect, right down to the curls coiffed at the base of her neck.

  Taking a deep breath, she strolled to the entrance of the dining room as she reminded herself that the quaking inside her body was merely a mild case of nerves. A hostess armed with a menu intercepted her in the dining room.

  “Good evening, Madam,” the hostess said with a smile. “Do you have a table reserved with us?”

  “Actually, I’m meeting someone ...” she began, then trailed off. The presence of a young man at the bar attracted her notice. A young man with dark hair and a slightly rumpled suit, the trademark pink rose of Connections Anonymous tucked in his lapel.

  Henry! No, no, it can't be... Her eyes froze on his figure as the hostess glanced helpfully in the same direction.

  "Is that the gentleman?" she asked. For a moment, Miss Darcy could say nothing. Snapping free of her thoughts, she shook her head.

  "No, no, it isn't," she answered. "I'll just seat myself and wait for him, thanks." The hostess moved on, leaving Olivia in plain view of everyone in the dining room. As Henry's glance roved from the bar towards the dining room, she ducked out of sight.

  "Trick ankle," she explained to the nearest table as its occupants stared at her with surprise. She raised her head to see if Henry was still looking; but he was busy conversing with the bartender, his eyes trained away from her.