In a Moon Smile (22 page)

She tried frantically to develop a deeper trust and a stronger feeling of love for her groom-to-be. But those emotions never developed. So her only other option to stall the wedding was to refuse every suggested wedding date.

It was Becca who initially smelled a rat. “Jack says you can’t tie the knot in May. Chez, why can’t you find one single day in May to be married?” Becca asked while they power walked together through the park.

“I’m launching my new series,” Chesney said quickly, never taking the risk of looking directly at Becca as she walked. “I don’t want to plan a beautiful wedding and an amazing restful honeymoon in Paris for a time when I’m on deadline.”

“If I didn’t know you better, Chesney Blake, I’d wonder if you weren’t purposefully dragging your feet,” Becca said. “The months between April or August weren’t possible, either, as I recall. Do you actually want to be married to Jack?”

Chesney sucked in her breath, waiting for Becca’s rampage to end. Finally the subject changed. She knew she wasn’t completely out of the woods. Becca was suspicious. But maybe she could still find an escape route.

“Mom doesn’t understand why early September won’t work,” Charlotte said on the phone. “Chesney, you refused all possibilities for spring. You hated all the ideas Mom and I shared with you for a summer wedding. What in the hell is wrong with September?”

Fearing that she was now running out of lies but still hoping that Jack would miraculously transform into a truly nice guy, Chesney developed ulcers. Without some kind of catastrophe such as infidelity, she knew the wedding would happen. She simply didn’t have the backbone to tell anyone, not even Becca, that she didn’t want to be Jack’s wife. That truth about herself, about her weakness, her people-pleasing tendencies, that raw honesty about the fact that she was even willing to marry the wrong person just because that’s what everyone else wanted, well, it filled her with self hatred and fear. “Oh Jack,” Chesney whispered to the cool morning. “Thank you so much for screwing your assistant. That was the greatest gift in the world.”

Her thoughts changed as she walked back to the house. Next spring, she would fill that beautiful wrap-around porch with plants. Daisies would dance around the steps. And she would sit out here with her new dog and watch ducks waddle from the pond to the bank. “It will be heaven,” Chesney whispered in the puppy’s ear. “My heaven.”

As she and the rambunctious puppy came crashing through the backdoor, Dalton met her with a smile. When Chesney put the dog on the floor, she grabbed a paper sack filled with nails and spilled them all over the floor.

“Hmmm,” Chesney looked down at the little fuzz ball. “You think I need yet another project?”

“Looks like she has a lot of spunk,” Dalton said with a grin as he reached down to pick up the mess.

At that moment, they both heard a loud truck approaching. It thundered down the lane toward the house. “Who could that be?” Chesney said as she walked toward the window. Then she happily said. “Hey, I can't believe it! After nearly a month's delay, I think my new furniture is here!”

“Will we find a table and chairs on that truck?” Dalton asked with a laugh. “If not, I'm bringing my picnic table over here, Ms... I mean, Chesney.”

Hearing Dalton again say her name made Chesney happy. And at this moment, she didn’t mind if he knew it, either. Dalton followed as Chesney sprinted happily through the dining room and parlor toward the front door. When she flung open the door, expecting to see a delivery man or two on the front porch, her heart sank all the way to her dirty, bare toes.

Jack was on the porch.

“Surprise, darling,” he said as Chesney stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. “Aren't you happy to see me?” He pulled her into his arms and pressed his mouth against hers, hoping for a passionate kiss. But Jack’s mouth felt foreign and harsh, and unwanted. She pulled away from him, unwilling to allow his tongue to gain entry between her trembling lips. “You look lovely,” Jack said, obviously ignoring the rejected kiss. “Life in the country agrees with you, honey.”

“What are you doing here?” Chesney stuttered as she looked past him at the truck. “I thought my furniture…” That’s when she saw Jack’s black Saab. It was parked behind the delivery truck.

“I found some time in my crazy schedule. So I thought, ‘Why not take a road trip? I want to see my girl.’ I can actually visit with you for a few days,” Jack said. “Then you and I can drive back together to Chicago.”

Chesney’s head was swimming with anger. Here Jack was, walking inside her house, uninvited. Here he was, announcing that he planned to stay for a few days. Here he was, assuming that she would return with him to Chicago. As he leaned in again, trying to poke his reptile tongue back into her mouth, Chesney was even more appalled. She was seething with anger. But like always, Chesney couldn't seem to say so.

Jack affects me like a hot sauce pan cover. He is the heavy lid that prevents my feelings from bubbling freely.

“Drive back to Chicago?” she asked dumbly. “What are you talking about?”

Jack ignored the question as if he didn’t have time to respond to something so obvious. “Who's this?” He saw the puppy bouncing around Chesney’s feet and bent down to pet it. Then he noticed Dalton Moore, who was leaning against the fireplace mantel, taking in all the action. “And who are you?” Jack’s question bit through the air, laced with irritation.

“Oh don’t mind me. I'm just the handyman,” Dalton said slowly with a forced smile.

Was that an angry look on Dalton's face? Maybe jealousy? Was Dalton thinking that Chesney lied to him about ending the relationship with Jack? Of course, the situation looked confusing and felt awkward. She felt dizzy. Why in the hell couldn’t she open her damn mouth and tell Jack to get out?

“Take the rest of the day off,” Jack said gruffly to Dalton. “I want to be alone with my fiancé.”

“Jack...” Why couldn't she scream at him? What the hell was he doing, introducing himself as her fiancé? Why did the red-hot words of anger crowd in her throat but then run back to hide in her chest?

“You understand, don't you?” Jack said to Dalton with a wink. “We haven't seen each other in months. We need some privacy.”

“Sure,” Dalton said quickly. He never looked in Chesney’s direction. He simply turned to gather his tools.

“Mr. Moore is doing a lot of work here,” Chesney said quickly. “We're trying to get the majority of the renovations completed before winter. We’re on a strict schedule.”

“Mr. Moore can resume his work while you and I are in Chicago, dear,” Jack said crisply as he loosened his tie. Then Jack turned back to the porch and gestured for the delivery men to unload Chesney’s new furniture from the truck. “What did you buy?” he asked as he scanned the rooms. “It doesn’t look like you brought much of anything from your apartment.”

“I wanted to start over,” she stammered. “So I wanted new furniture...”

“Bring everything through this door,” Jack said to the men, as if he was in charge. Chesney glared at him, still unable to get her back bone in place.

“What is that? A desk?” Jack said to the men. “Wait, let me ask where my fiancé wants it placed. Personally, I think that corner would be perfect.”

Certain that her head might pop off her shoulders like a champagne cork, Chesney stepped forward. Her entire body was trembling, but she didn’t care. “For starters, Jack, let me remind you that I am not your fiancé,” she said in an even tone. “And also, I will decide where the delivery men place those items since they happen to be mine.”

“Of course you will, darling,” Jack said cheerfully as he stepped back.

“I want the desk upstairs, please,” Chesney said to the delivery men. “In the room at the top of the stairs.” As the men carefully made their way up the staircase, she turned to Jack, gritting her teeth. “By the way, I don’t know where you got such a ridiculous idea. And I don’t know that I really even care. But I can assure you of one thing, Jack. I am not returning with you to Chicago,” Suddenly intoxicated by her own bitter temper, she took in a deep breath to steady herself. “I don’t know why you would assume something so ridiculous. But Jack, I will not make that trip or any other trip with you.” Chesney then walked over to where Dalton stood, packing his tools, preparing to leave.

“I am renovating my house,” she said. “Mr. Moore and I are working on a time schedule. And Mr. Moore is not leaving. He is working in the upstairs bedrooms.”

A very faint smile crossed Dalton's face as silence filled the room. He stared down at his tape measure. And Jack stared at Chesney.

“Well, this is a very fine welcome,” Jack said.

“It's an expected welcome from an uninvited guest,” Chesney said hotly. With trembling hands, she picked up the puppy and reminded herself to breathe.

“I don't know what's wrong with you, Chesney,” Jack said. “I penciled this trip into a very demanding schedule. In fact, darling, I jumped through several hoops to make this happen.”

“Then pencil out your damn visit,” she growled. “Please remember, Jack, that you were not invited to come here.”

“I've never seen you behave this way,” Jack said as the delivery men awkwardly entered the front door with an antique table.

“The kitchen is that way,” she pointed across the living room and the noticeably uneasy delivery men barely made eye contact with her. She smiled, trying to reassure them that she had a good handle on this domestic disturbance. Then she turned to Dalton.“If you don't mind, Mr. Moore, you could go ahead and start working in the upstairs bedroom. Let’s go on with the day, just as we planned.”

While Dalton wordlessly climbed the stairs, the delivery men brought in a chair, an overstuffed sofa, a lamp. Jack sat down on the stairs, watching as Chesney snapped directions regarding furniture placement.

“I made this trip because I miss you,” Jack said sadly when the men returned to the truck to carry in the new bed, especially purchased for Becca’s bedroom.

Now or never. Grow yourself a big old backbone right now or spend an eternity being bullied by Jack and anyone else who wants to tell you what to do and when to do it.

“I’m not sure what this visit is about. But I don't want you back in my life,” Her voice was a too-soft whisper. She had to try again, try harder to tap into her inner bitch.

“I made a mistake,” Jack stared at Chesney with watery eyes. “What happened with Belinda was a stupid, foolish, selfish mistake.”

“Our engagement was a mistake,” Chesney said. “We are totally different people. And the longer I am away from you, the more clearly I see that I was never really happy.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Jack’s lips trembled. His pain tugged at her heart. Until this moment, Chesney had never seen Jack show remorse or emotion about anything except money poorly spent on stock market investments.

“Let's not do this to each other,” she said softly. Like any veteran doormat, she felt guilty for hurting him. She touched Jack’s shoulder, hoping to stop this ugly confrontation before things got out of hand. “Just let it go,” Chesney said. “It's over.”

“I tried to give you everything,” Jack said. “Trips to Europe, designer jewelry, a wonderful wedding and a honeymoon was planned...” With quivering lips pressed tight to regain his composure, Jack looked around at the house, at the many unfinished projects, at drop cloths covering areas of the scratched hardwood floors, at cracked windows, at peeling paint and faded wallpaper. “I could give you the life of a princess, Chesney. And you’re telling me that you would rather have this?”

“Yes,” Chesney nodded with a smile. “I'd rather be right here than anywhere else in the world, Jack. And I mean that.”

“I think you're depressed,” he said. “I think you're suffering from clinical depression.” He placed his hand on her forehead with a worried expression, as if she might have a fever, directly linked to a mental breakdown.

Chesney jerked away from his touch. “Just for future reference, Jack, you should know that you can’t diagnose depression by checking to see if I have a fever.”

He tugged nervously at the top button of his dress shirt. His expensive watch band sparkled in the sunlight. “I’m not the only one who worries about you,” he said. “Becca also thinks you should seek treatment for depression.”

Here we go again. When I don’t cave in and do what everyone wants me to do, I become the mental patient.

“When did you and Becca hang your shingles for psychiatric services?” Chesney asked sweetly.

Jack swiped sawdust off his jacket then stepped toward her to cup Chesney’s face in his hands. “I've made so many mistakes,” he said softly.

“There is no need to rehash anything,” Chesney was suddenly so tired. All she wanted was to curl up for a marathon nap.

“You want a small, private wedding?” Jack said quickly. “That’s okay with me. You want a baby right away? We'll have one. You want to renovate this place and summer here? We'll do it.”

“It's too late, Jack,” Chesney said as she stifled a yawn.

“That isn’t true, Chez,” Jack said.

She hated to say it. She didn’t want to sting him and she didn’t want a scene, either. She only wanted peace and freedom. “I don't love you.” Even after she heard her own voice, Chesney couldn't believe the words actually left her throat. They fluttered around the parlor. She avoided Jack's eyes.