Ready to Wed (11 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Jillian was on a tight deadline with an event tomorrow, so I met her at the local organic market to chat and shop. Not having her to talk to as much, especially late at night, was the one thing I missed about crashing with her.

“So are you plotting Phoebe’s demise and hit a snag you need me to help work out, or did a caterer pull out of one of your weddings?” she asked as she picked up a basket and headed toward the produce section. “I’m pretty booked, but if I can squeeze it in, you know I’ll—”

“Actually, I’m having another kind of problem. I’m totally lusting after my new roommate.”

Jillian whipped around so fast I nearly barreled into her. “You’re lusting after the guy you just picked up and moved in with, even though you only knew him when you were a kid?”

To say Jillian had doubted my judgment about moving in with Brendan was putting it mildly—especially since she’d yet to meet him thanks to all of our busy schedules. When she helped haul boxes into the house, though, even she admitted it was better than our previous cramped living situation. And okay, maybe I could’ve found a way for them to meet if I’d tried harder, but I hadn’t wanted her to find any problems with Brendan when being around him was doing wonders for my sanity. Before I’d started, you know, going insane thinking about his forearms and his dirty hands on me, that is.

I twisted a strand of hair around my finger, wrapping it up until the lighter caramel color was covered with the darker part. “It was better than moving in with a stranger, and it’s not like I
meant
for it to happen. Although he is a good-looking guy, so I should’ve probably seen it coming. I thought the fact that we used to know each other so well would keep these kinds of feelings from developing. But he’s been so great about everything, and I mentioned the super good-looking thing, right?”

“So the problem is he’s attractive and you need rebound sex.”

“No! I mean yes to the attractive…” I waited for the elderly woman to pick out a clump of tomatoes and then leaned in close to Jillian, keeping my voice low. “No to the rebound sex.” I exhaled, trying to organize my thoughts. “The problem is I shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.”

“But if you’re really going for the whole independent woman thing, sex without strings is the part I’d suggest embracing. It’s one of the only benefits in a sea of crappiness, honestly.”

Jillian was one of the few women I knew who could pull that off without getting attached. It didn’t mean she wasn’t picky, just that she chose hot, smart guys and viewed them as temporary fun, no false expectations. “One, you know how easily I fall for guys, and two, Brendan’s my oldest friend. Even though we’ve spent years apart, he knows things about me that most people don’t. Things I haven’t even told Grant.”

“Like…?” Jillian frowned at the bundle of cilantro she’d picked up and then tossed it down in favor of another one.

“Like stuff with my mom. I mean, Grant knows that she and I have a strained relationship, but I never told him how abandoned I felt when she picked her job over me. I didn’t really tell Brendan, either, but he knew. And he can read me no matter how hard I try to hide my emotions, which is annoying and comforting at the same time.” I picked up an apple and tossed it in the air, just to have something to focus on besides my confession. “Right now my life’s a mess, and he’s making it all seem okay anyway. But I need to not think about if he’s going to kiss me, and definitely not about doing anything more that would make things weird between us.” I set the apple back on the stack, careful to not knock any over.

“And what about Grant? Is he still asking for a second chance?”

“We’ve been on a bit of a break, but he called earlier. I sent him to voicemail, and he only said to call him. But in theory, he’s still on the table.”

“Well, I think he lost his chance.” Jillian’s eyebrows drew low over her eyes as she tapped her fingers on the shopping basket. “But I see what you mean with Brendan. You do live with the guy already, so that makes things complicated with a high possibility of messy.”

This was why I’d come to Jillian. No-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is advice.

“I think you need a fling,” she said, and I reconsidered the no-nonsense part. “Someone super sexy who you barely know. It’ll get your mind off how hot your roommate is, and might also help you figure out if you even want to get back what you used to have with Grant. Maybe you’ll find you like playing the field again.”

“Doubtful. It’s just going to feel like a huge step backward after being almost married. A fling is a drive-through wedding, and you know how I feel about those.” I tried my best to not sound judgmental—she could do what she wanted, but I knew myself too well to pretend I could pull off no-strings-attached sex.

“They’re a big no-no. But a drive-through wedding’s promising forever in the fastest way possible, and this is promising fun for a little while.”

“It’s different, though. I don’t want some random dude, and the guy I suddenly find myself attracted to—although honestly, I thought he was hot the first day he came into my office, before I knew who he was…” I pictured the way he always had his tie draped over his unbuttoned shirt at the end of the day, and the way the smile brought out the cleft in his chin. Then there was the memory of his body bumping into mine as he reached for his keys and the whole tire-changing incident.

Jillian waved her hand in front of my face. “Yes…?”

“I just got Brendan back in my life, and there’s something about being around him that makes it easy for me to relax, and you know how hard that is for me to do. The last thing I want to do is mess that up, especially right now when work is such a challenge and I’m about to have to start that stupid anger management course. I’ve gotta keep my head on straight. I barely got out of a serious relationship, he’s simply being nice to me because we’re friends, and here I am ready to throw myself at him. I never was any good at being on the rebound. I make stupid choices.” Like the guy Raquel had mentioned during my hair appointment. “I go for the McDonald’s of rebounds—tastes delicious going down, regret it for a week. Then I still find myself heading back for more.”

Jillian wrinkled her nose—she loathed all fast food, and when she could make everything taste a hundred times better when she cooked it herself, why go cheap?

“Of course, that’s unfair to Brendan, because I’m sure he’s not a McDonald’s kind of—” I shook my head. “You know what, I’m not even gonna finish that. Like all my analogies, it’s gotten way too abstract, and now I want french fries.”

“You really do have it bad.”

“Not bad. I came to you at the first sign of temptation. That means fixable, right?”

Jillian tossed a couple of red and orange bell peppers into her basket.

“Jill?”

One of her dark eyebrows shot up. “You want me to tell you the truth, or what you want to hear?”

Silly me, I was kind of hoping for both.

A cute college-age guy with shaggy hair was working the cash register, and he greeted Jillian and me with a huge smile. Jillian kept tilting her head toward him, eyebrows raised, lacking enough subtlety he no doubt realized she was trying to get me to hit on him. Obviously she hadn’t been listening to the no-fling thing.

I left her to pay and waited for her at the front of the store.

No bad rebound, no needing a guy, no deciding to pay Grant a visit because at least I knew him, and no messing up my friendship with Brendan. So there was only one option really. I was going to chant
drive-through wedding
over and over in my head for the foreseeable future, to remind myself what I was
not
looking for.

Get Ready to Wed
by Dakota Halifax

Drive-Through Weddings

I was staring at my computer screen, trying to decide what words of advice to give the great city of Las Vegas this week. Let’s face it, you guys have already got the whole party-hearty-rock-and-roll thing down. What’s left? I was hungry, so I ignored my blank screen and decided I needed a food break. I went through a local burger joint’s drive-through and it hit me.

Drive-through weddings are called that for a reason. Do you ever get halfway down the road after going through the drive-through at a restaurant only to discover you didn’t get exactly what you ordered? (I specifically said
no onions!
And where’s the ketchup I asked for?) Well, take a few minutes and think about your special day. Do you want to get married only to find out the guy performing your ceremony was also arrested for some horrifying reason? (Oh, the things I could tell you I’ve seen preachers dressed as Elvis do. Trust me, sometimes you’d rather not see hunka, hunka burnin’ love go down. Actually, change that “sometimes” and make it “always.”) Maybe you find out your union isn’t even legal—it still totally counts, in case you were wondering. A promise is a promise, and your drunk-in-Vegas excuse won’t hold up in court any better than you did after one of those drinks so large you needed a handle to lug it around the casino. You love your significant other, and this wasn’t just a drunken mistake, was it? Of course it wasn’t! Most any chapel can get you in and out quickly, and I’m not opposed to being married by any of the fabulous bejeweled and jumpsuited preachers out there if that’s what you want. (Just don’t go wandering into the chapel bathroom when they think everyone’s cleared out—trust me on that.) After all, being able to get married on a whim to the one you love is just another thing that makes our fine city awesome.

But please, please get out of the car and take a few minutes to pledge your love to each other. Preferably wearing pants, something that can also be missing during a drive-through wedding, but isn’t nearly as amusing a story for your children as you think it’ll be. Take a few minutes and look around at the decorations—be they cheesy cardboard cupids, fuzzy dice, and flashing casino lights, or chandeliers, elegant draped fabrics, and a rose-petal-strewn aisle—and soak in the moment of standing at an altar and exchanging vows with the man or woman of your dreams. You’ll thank me one day.

Chapter Fourteen

Just because Brendan and I were only friends and I wasn’t going to do anything to compromise that didn’t mean I couldn’t look nice for our not-date. I hadn’t been to anything besides a wedding in a long time, and that was when I was also working my butt off, so it hardly counted. Even when Grant and I were engaged, we were mostly homebodies. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a movie on the big screen.

So that’s why I put on my distressed jeans, fitted white top with the sheer lacey overlay, and five-inch hot-pink peep-toe heels with lips that matched. Not because I was looking for a fling with my
buddy ol’ pal
roommate, but because it was nice to dress up and remember that I could pull myself together pretty nicely when it came down to it.

Man, these shoes pinch the toes.
They’d always been on the tight side, but hey, beauty’s pain, right? How many times had I told my brides to suck it up and deal with the uncomfortableness for a few hours—I said it nicer than that of course, but it was the same basic principle. I’d be sitting through the movie anyway.

Thanks to the email I’d gotten a few minutes after arriving back home—the one detailing how and where to complete my anger management course—I knew this was going to be my last night out for a while, too. Besides logging hours for it and all my upcoming consults and weddings, I was going to hardly have time for pesky things like sleep and eating. Being gone all the time should help keep my lust feelings in check, though, so there was my silver lining. Magical, I know.

My heels clacked against the hardwood floors until I hit the large rug in the living room. Cupid ran up to me and flopped on my feet, which meant
stop everything and pet me if you ever want to move again
. I obliged, scratching him under the chin like he liked.

Footsteps sounded behind me and I stood and turned around.

“Whoa,” Brendan said, running his gaze over me. My heart skipped a couple of what-a-nice-friend-I-have beats. But speaking of whoa, he was dressed in jeans and a vintage T-shirt that showed off his toned chest and arms. He looked good when he dressed up for work, but there was something about the dressed-down look that was making me silently repeat
drive-through wedding
and
McDonald’s burger
again and again.

“You’re all dolled up,” he said.

“You’re all dolled down,” I said. Like a genius with words, I am. “I mean, you look nice out of a suit. Casual. Not that the suit’s not a good look for you.”
Omigosh, stop talking.
“Uh, ready?”

He nodded and put his hand on my back. I might’ve leaned into it slightly, my body reacting before my brain, but I made sure to straighten right away.

Once we were in his truck, everything went back to normal—easy, fun, joking and talking without me thinking about kissing him. Until I had that thought and accidentally homed in on his lips.

Focus, Dakota.
“So, we never finished this morning’s conversation. Either you’re violently opposed to engagement, or you had a disaster with a girl.”

“Disaster
s
,” Brendan said. “But the last one was pretty set on marriage. She started dropping hints six months in. I liked her, but I wasn’t even close to thinking about settling down. Then she decided to start asking when we were going to get married. She told me she expected a ring for her birthday.”

“I’ve had a couple grooms like you. Dragged there by sheer force of the girl. It never goes well, even if the guy does go through with the wedding.” I glanced out the window. I wondered if that was how Grant had felt. Though he was the one who first brought it up. Living together. Marriage. Starting a family someday. And then he’d proposed, surprising me one night with the question and the ring. But maybe he thought it was what I wanted, and at the time, it was. I ran my fingers along the armrest of the door. “So what happened when she didn’t get a ring for her birthday?”

“Before we even got to that point, I told her I wasn’t looking to get hitched. Things went downhill pretty quickly and there was a big ugly breakup. I met her at work, too, so we were still forced to see each other all the time and it was awful. It was one reason why I jumped at the job here.”

“So was it just the girl, or are you one of those people who is violently opposed to marriage?”

“I wouldn’t say
violently
…” Brendan shrugged. “Never thought much about it. Guess I figured it was something way in the future. Like way, way future.”

Since it was all I thought about—not so much mine, but when it’s surrounding you, it’s impossible not to get a couple ideas—that seemed a bit crazy. But I supposed most guys didn’t stay up late talking about fairy-tale weddings and finding the perfect dress. Or tux, as it were.

“Every relationship I’ve been in has felt suffocating,” Brendan said. “Never-ending calls all day long to ‘check in’ or ask where I’m at and what I’m doing. Being told I never take anything seriously, and feelings hurt so damn easily that I start to feel like a jackass even when I was sure I wasn’t being one. I feel exhausted just thinking about it.”

“Yeah, relationships.
Pfft.
Who needs them? It’s all just a big show with the couple looking happy from the outside in, anyway—hell, maybe they even believe it. But then they go home and spend their nights bickering about what to do or what to watch on TV. Even the littlest thing can turn into a battle.” I wasn’t exactly sure where that’d come from. I supposed I’d thought about it lately as I’d looked at couples, wondering if anyone was really happy. Grant and I had spent plenty of nights arguing over the remote, and there were a lot of things we didn’t agree on, but I wouldn’t have called us unhappy—I did suffer through a lot of documentaries, though, and he never watched what I wanted. And once in a while he’d zone out when I went over our schedules, but I knew he wasn’t as crazy about his to-do list as I was, even though he asked me to keep his in order and then acted like I was inconveniencing him when I was inputting it for him. Maybe I’d been wrong all these years, and everyone who avoided serious commitments had it right. Life was certainly less complicated.

“If I had a drink, I’d raise a toast to no relationships,” I said. “And I’m feeling rather anti-marriage as well.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d had a drink.” Brendan pulled into the parking lot of the shopping strip with the theater. “I wasn’t saying…” He exhaled. “I’m not opposed to all relationships. But no matter how much I cared about a woman, I’d never let her force me into an engagement to make her happy. When I think about how hard relationships are, and the commitment it’d take to add the ‘till death do us part’ in the mix, I’ll admit it makes me wanna run in the other direction. That doesn’t mean I’m some player who’s against being faithful to one woman, though. There are definitely nice parts of being in a relationship…”

The temperature in the car rose a couple degrees as his brown eyes bored into me, and my breath caught in my throat for reasons I couldn’t explain, and honestly, didn’t want to delve too far into.

“Now…” He patted my thigh. “Let’s go watch zombies!”

“Well, one thing’s for sure. Your commitment to blood and guts is certainly impressive.”

He laughed and then got out of the truck. As we walked past the shops, I was pretty sure I heard my name called. When I glanced around, I spotted a girl waving at me. She was in the Adler/Friedman wedding. Angular cheekbones. “Hey, Angie.”

“Hi,” she said as she made her way over to me. “Guess what?” She thrust her hand in front of my face. “I’m engaged!”

“Congratulations!”

“I’ve been meaning to call you. I’m not sure how much I can afford, but I needed help finding caterers and a location, and I wasn’t sure if that was something you’d do if I didn’t have you there at the wedding?”

“Sure.” I pulled a card out of my purse and handed it to her. “Give me a call and we can discuss pricing options and how involved you want me to be. I can just consult on setup if that’s all that’s needed.”

“I’ve been reading your columns, too. I was so excited for you after your last one, then I read in the paper that you didn’t get married. I’m so sorry.”

The plastic smile I was starting to pull out in times like these automatically formed itself across my lips. I was also remembering why I didn’t go out much. Between Grant and me, it sometimes felt like we knew the entire city. “It’s fine. For the best, really.”

“Well, it looks like you’re doing all right to me.” Angie’s gaze moved to Brendan, then she flashed me a thumbs-up I was sure she thought was covert but was quite the opposite.

“Actually, Brendan’s just a friend.” I looped my arm through his, needing his support to continue the everything’s-so-amazing ruse. “I’ve known him forever.”

Brendan tugged on our intertwined arms, jostling me into him and making me stumble on my heels. “Feels like longer sometimes.” He shot me a goofy smile when I glanced up at his face, and I couldn’t help giggling.

“An eternity, really.”

“Like pre-birth.”

At this point, the lines in Angie’s forehead became more pronounced, so I decided it was time to bring the conversation back from the weird but funny path it had strayed down. “So congrats again on the engagement, and give me a call. It was really good bumping into you.”

“Yeah, you, too,” she said, though it sounded kind of like
I’m never calling you now, you weirdo.

“You’re great for business, you know that?” I said to Brendan once she was gone. We started toward the theater again, but a familiar figure caught my attention. I thought I must just be seeing things, but there, waiting to get into our favorite fancy Chinese restaurant, was Grant, and he wasn’t alone. A beautiful blond woman stood across from him, and I could tell from her face she was smitten, though I couldn’t see Grant’s to try to gauge if the feelings were mutual.

My feet were still in motion, and my shoe slipped on something wet. I automatically clamped on to Brendan’s arm to keep from falling and my ankle folded under me. I was pretty proud of myself for not landing on my butt, and would’ve continued the celebration of my awesomeness had I not tried to step down on the foot that’d been twisted and experienced shooting pain all the way from ankle to knee.

“You okay?” Brendan asked.

“Just go,” I whispered, limping toward the corridor that would block me from being spotted by Grant at least. When we were safely out of sight, I wiggled my ankle around, grimacing when it caught again and again. Of all the stupid, embarrassing things. “I’m fine,” I said at Brendan’s raised eyebrows, but trying to put weight on it made me let loose a string of swear words. I crouched down, weight leaning on my left foot.

“Yeah, you’re fine. Obviously.” He squatted to examine my ankle, as if he’d be able to tell what was wrong by seeing it. I didn’t need to see it to know it was at least sprained. He ran his fingers across where it had folded wrong, the ache inside at odds with the careful brush of his fingertips. “If you weren’t wearing these crazy-tall heels…”

My mouth dropped and I patted my shoes. “There, there, he didn’t mean it. It was whoever spilled the drink on the floor’s fault. Not yours.”

Brendan’s mouth kicked up on one side. “I didn’t realize you’d injured your head, too.”

I smacked his arm. “Why do I bother hanging out with you again?”

“Because you don’t have many other options.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“And then there’s the fact that you’ve known me for an ‘eternity.’ Come on, let’s get you home.” Brendan grabbed my hand, glided me to standing, and had his arm around my waist in one smooth transition.

“Not home. We have a zombie movie to see.”

“You can’t walk.”

I dared a glance toward the restaurant and could just see the back of Grant’s head. Everything inside me, from my lungs to my stomach, felt heavy and wrong. Was he dating again? Had he given up on me? Did I want him to? So many confusing emotions swirled through me, but the one thing I knew for sure was there was no way I was limping back past him and the blonde. “Sure I can.” Brendan hesitated, and I saw my opening. “At home I’d just be sitting anyway. Here I’ll be sitting, but with a movie. And popcorn. Can’t you smell it?” The buttery, salty scent filled the air. “By the time it’s over, my ankle will totally be better. I’m sure of it.”

Brendan glanced the way we came, then the few feet it’d take to get to the theater. “I’m carrying you inside, then.”

“No way. I’ll just take off my shoes.” I eyed the floor, thinking of all the germs waiting to seep into my feet. Why hadn’t I worn socks? I mean, the eighties were back, so while we were resurrecting ugly styles, I might as well rock the socks with heels, too.

Brendan turned his back to me. “Hop on.”

My options were now a piggyback ride or being carried like a damsel in distress past my ex-fiancé and the woman he was possibly moving on with. Really, there wasn’t any option. I jumped on Brendan’s back. Of course I got the giggles, and they only got worse when everyone stared at us. “If we see anyone I know, I’ll die twice.”

“Just like a zombie,” Brendan added. After we got the tickets—earning more strange looks—he ordered popcorn, soda, and an extra cup of ice. Somehow, we managed to get it all inside the theater.

He gently lowered me into a seat and took the one next to me. Then he pulled my foot onto his lap and rested the cup of ice on my swelling ankle. Brendan made a couple of jokes and comments about the previews, and the ickiness over the Grant incident faded into the background. After a few handfuls of popcorn and a long pull on my soda, life seemed pretty good, despite the throbbing in my ankle. I watched the lights flicker across Brendan’s features. Who else would piggyback me through a theater and make sure I had ice for my ankle?

As the movie progressed, Brendan leaned over, the ice in place, his other hand hooked on my knee. He tapped his fingers, and every beat sent a zip of electricity up my leg.

Onscreen, zombies were biting people, the gory, thick sounds of beheading and guts splattering filling the air.