Changing Scenes (Changing Teams #2) (20 page)

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Astrid

It was two days before Britt and Sam’s wedding, and the entire wedding party—except for Sam’s cousin from Iowa, who would arrive on Friday, hopefully in time for the rehearsal—had taken over Jorge’s shop for our final fittings. The men had been in and out of their tuxes in record time, but us ladies were enjoying every second of the princess treatment.

The dresses Jorge had crafted were exquisite, from Britt’s cream and gold and burgundy wedding gown to our burgundy bridesmaid dresses. Since Jorge would never allow his Matilda to fade into the background, he’d made her a dress in a similar style as the bridesmaid’s, with flowing layers of chiffon showcasing her bump. No, he wasn’t a proud papa, not at all.

“So, today are the fittings, tomorrow we confirm floral arrangements and the menu, and we head up Friday?” I ticked off. Maid of honor duty involved quite a bit of list making.

“I have already confirmed the menus,” Melody said. “Both rehearsal and the banquet. The florist should call me back any minute now.”

“Good,” I said. “You’ve got this down, Mel. Maybe you should be a wedding planner.”

She flashed me a grin. “Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.”

I smiled tightly, hiding my disappointment. I’d wanted to confirm at least the rehearsal menu, just to call the restaurant. I hadn’t spoken to Donnie in any way, shape, or form since I’d shattered my phone on my coffee table and resorted to using the prepay phone for everything. Obviously Donnie couldn’t call me since he didn’t know the prepay phone’s number, and I had steadfastly refused to ask Britt for Donnie’s number. If he wanted to talk to me, he could ask her. Not like he hadn’t gone behind my back before.

“Astrid,” Jorge snapped, jarring me back to reality. “What have you been eating, lard sandwiches?”

“What?” I demanded. “Did you leave your manners at home, Jorge?”

“This dress does not fit,” he said, tugging on the zipper. He was right, the zipper didn’t want to go past my waist. “It fit last week. Explain.”

“Explain what, you crazy tailor?” I muttered. “Check your measurements. I have not gained weight.”

Jorge yanked on the sides of my dress. “My measurements are perfect.”

He yanked on the dress again—truly, a tailor scorned is far worse than any woman—and I felt my breakfast coming up to say hello. I clamped my hand over my mouth; luckily, it subsided. When I looked up, I saw Matilda eyeing me, her mouth pressed in a flat line.

“Jorge, leave Astrid be,” Matilda said. “Surely you can let out a seam?”

Jorge grumbled, but agreed to make the alteration in time for Saturday. He walked away and I stepped off of the pedestal and went to the changing area, Matilda hot on my heels. She entered the alcove with me and snapped the curtain closed behind us.

“Well?” she demanded. “How far along?”

“How far along is what?” I countered.

“You’ve gained weight. Sudden movements make you nauseous. Booze has been making you sick for weeks.” Matilda’s gaze softened. “And, you’re glowing.”

My mouth fell open, ready to disprove everything Matilda said…but, I couldn’t. It was the first thing that had made sense in my life in a long time. “I can’t be pregnant,” I whispered. “We always used protection.”

“Every time?”

“Every time,” I replied, then I remembered the time in the shower. Donnie had followed me in there, and one thing had led to another. When I admitted that I’d never had sex in a shower, Donnie had taken it upon himself to enlighten me. He was a damn good teacher.

“No, once we didn’t,” I said, pressing my hand to my belly. “You think so?”

“I think it’s a strong possibility,” she replied. “Donnie’s?”

“Yeah.” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I turned toward the wall. “I haven’t even spoken to him in weeks.”

Matilda wrapped her arms around me, and said, “You’ll see him Friday. Talk to him then. If you don’t think you can do it alone, I’ll go with you.”

“I can do it,” I said. For my baby, I could do it.

Chapter Forty

Astrid

“You okay?” Britt asked as we pulled into Thirty-Nine and Twelve’s parking lot. Sam had driven us down, which was convenient since I had my professional makeup case stashed in the trunk. I was also crammed in the back seat with Melody. Don’t get me wrong; I love the girl, I just love my personal space as well.

“Absolutely,” I lied. Sam glanced at me in the rearview mirror; trust the man who’d lied for over half his life to be able to smell an untruth a mile away. Or in this case, from the backseat.

“Think he’ll bother you?” Sam asked.

“No, Donnie wouldn’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s one of the good guys.”

Melody touched the back of my hand. “Think you’ll get to talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. I hadn’t told anyone about Matilda’s suspicion that I was pregnant, since there no reason to get everyone worked up over something that might not even be happening. I shook my head again, and said, “Look at me, dragging everyone down. This weekend is all about Britt and Sam. Let’s get in there and celebrate.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sam said, then he leaned over the gearshift and kissed Britt like he meant it. Normally I didn’t mind their public displays of affection, but my heart clenched at the sight of them so happily in love.

I wondered if Donnie would kiss me like he meant it ever again.

We got out of the car, the nearly empty lot telling us we were almost the first to arrive. That honor went to Britt’s mother and stepfather, Cynthia and Patrick Sullivan.

“Mom,” Britt cried when we entered the restaurant, as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.

“Oh, Britty, I’m so happy for you and Sam,” Mrs. Sullivan said. After they’d hugged for a few minutes, Britt stepped back and Sam swept Mrs. Sullivan into his arms and off her feet.

“This time tomorrow I’ll be calling you momma,” Sam said.

“That’s right you will,” she said. Sam set Mrs. Sullivan down and swept his arm toward Melody and me.

“You know Astrid, right?” Sam said. “And Mel, you definitely know her.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Sullivan said, stepping forward and grasping Melody’s hands. “How are you both?”

“Yes, Melody, how are you?” Mr. Sullivan asked.

“Hi, Uncle Patrick,” Melody squeaked. You see, Mr. Sullivan had arranged a marriage for Melody—that’s right, in twenty-first century America he arranged his niece’s marriage—only to have Melody leave the groom in question on their wedding night. At least she smartened up before they left on their honeymoon.

Of course, now she had to be in close proximity to her uncle for the duration of this wedding adventure, and that was all sorts of awkward. Luckily Michael picked that moment for his arrival, and he erupted into our little gathering.

“Sam, my man, let’s get this rehearsal started,” Michael announced. They gave each other a bear hug, then Michael frowned. “You sure you want to shack up with a woman? I mean, Britt’s cute and all, but it’s not too late to go back to the fairer sex.”

“Michael,” Britt shrieked as she pounded his arm.

“I’m just teasing, sugar,” Michael said, draping an arm around her neck. “Now tell me, why are we meeting here instead of at the House of Weddingness?”

“We figured we could carpool to the house,” Britt said. “Come on, let’s wait inside.”

“Carpool,” I muttered, but either no one heard me or they just ignored my plight. The restaurant’s owner and Donnie’s boss, Christa, met us just inside the door, and ushered us into the bar area; she gave me a sad smile, and I wondered what she’d heard. Britt, Melody, Mrs. Sullivan, and I claimed one of the pub tables, leaving Sam and Michael to deal with Mr. Sullivan.

“Who else are we waiting for?” Mrs. Sullivan asked.

“Sam’s parents should be here any minute now, along with his cousin David,” Britt replied. “He’s the other groomsman. Dad and the girls will meet us at the house, along with Jorge and Matilda.”

“The girls will be adorable,” Mrs. Sullivan said, referring to Britt’s toddler twin sisters who would be her flower girls. “Is Sean bringing…her?”

“Yeah, Emily’s coming,” Britt replied. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought Mrs. Sullivan’s eye twitched. “Couldn’t get Dad to leave his girlfriend behind any more than you’d ditch Patrick.”

“Not that I didn’t try,” Mrs. Sullivan grumbled. She was interrupted by a great whooping hello, and we turned and saw Sam barreling toward the door.

“Sam’s parents?” I guessed.

“Sure are,” Britt said. “Be right back.”

Britt went to say hello to her soon-to-be in-laws, and Melody and Mrs. Sullivan bent their heads together. I looked around the restaurant, my gaze landing on a head of dark hair disappearing through the swinging kitchen doors.

“Excuse me,” I said as I slid off my stool and headed toward the kitchen. My path was blocked by a waitress glaring at me with murder in her eyes.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “You’ve done enough to him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded.

“Just stay in New York and fuck your high-priced men,” she snapped. “Don’s too good for you.”

“Leela!”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Gabe, Christa’s son, glaring at the waitress, then I remembered who she was. Donnie had dated her back in New Bedford. Twice.

“Leela,” Gabe repeated, “you’ve got customers.”

Leela looked me over, huffed, and stomped toward the dining area. I glanced at Gabe, wondering if he’d try to bar my way like Leela had. He didn’t, just jerked his chin toward the kitchen doors. I smiled in gratitude, then I pushed them open and burst right into Donnie’s kingdom.

There were so many people in the kitchen, rushing around as they yelled questions and orders that at first I couldn’t find him. Then a woman moved and I saw him on the far side of the room. Donnie was standing over a table, cutting up vegetables. He stopped when he saw me, knife frozen in mid-chop. We stared at each other for a moment, the chaos of the kitchen drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears.

“I’m sorry,” I said at last, taking a step toward him. “I was wrong to jump down your throat like that and make you leave. I know you were only trying to help. And,” I continued, my voice going high and watery, “you were right. I do have a spending problem, and I have these insane debts that I just can’t get a handle on, and I thought about bankruptcy but that might just make things worse, and—”

“Hey.” Donnie dropped the knife and stepped around the table. “It’s all right. Everything will be all right.” He held my face close to his, stroking his thumbs across my cheekbones. He smelled like onions and carrots and I swear I’d never smelled anything better in my life. “God, I missed you so much.”

“Really?” I asked. Donnie answered by kissing me breathless. I wound my arms around his neck and opened my lips beneath his, and let him devour me. We stopped when we heard applause and a catcall.

“Get back to work,” Donnie barked over his shoulder.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “I shouldn’t have barged in like this.”

“I’m glad you did.” Donnie wiped my cheek with his thumb. “Why you crying, baby?”

“I missed you too,” I said. Donnie led me to a back corner of the kitchen near some shelves, then he pulled me into his arms and tucked my face against his neck. “Missed this.”

“Yeah,” he said against my hair. “Who was that guy?”

I leaned back and looked at him. “What guy?”

“I saw him with you outside the bar you work at, when I went to talk to you,” he replied. “You were laughing it up with him.”

“I have no idea.” I wiped my cheeks. “Wait, did he have red hair?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Padraic, Al’s son,” I replied. “To answer your next question, nothing ever went on between us.”

“And what about you and Archer?” Donnie pressed. “I saw the pictures of you and him on the internet.”

“That was all John,” I snapped. “He picked me up at an eveningwear shoot, which is why I was dressed to the nines. I quit his agency for good that night.”

“Really?”

“You think I’m lying?”

“No, I’m just so happy my heart might burst,” he said. “I’m sorry, babe. Forgive me for being a jealous ass?”

“Forgiven,” I said, and we kissed again. “Still want to be my date tomorrow?”

“You know it, baby.” He kissed my eyelids, then my cheeks and my nose, and finally my lips. “As much as I want to kiss you all night, I’ve got a rehearsal dinner to make.”

I had things to discuss with him, but I guessed that it could wait for a few hours. And some real privacy. “Better get on that. See you soon?”

“Soon.”

Donnie kissed me one last time, then I left him to his ingredients. After a quick stop in the bathroom I returned to the bar, and two of the nosiest women on the planet.

“You and Donnie made up,” Melody squeaked.

“Maybe,” I said, sliding onto my stool.

“Well,” Mrs. Sullivan began, leaning close, “if you weren’t making up why did you just walk out of the kitchen with your lipstick all smudged? Yeah, we can see the door from here.”

“Mrs. Sullivan,” I gasped.

“Call me Cin,” she said, blue eyes glinting. “All my friends do. So, things between you and Donnie are good?”

I looked toward the kitchen and smiled. “Yeah, they’re real good.”