Sweet Salvation (22 page)

“Surely Stacy has this well in hand.” Stacy’s eyes flashed to Joanne’s gratefully; she at least understood.

Jared had looked up then, as if startled. His eyes shifted between them. “Of course, Stacy has been pivotal as we’ve moved forward on this project. She won’t mind if you take a look, will you, honey?”

Talk about putting her on the spot. Jared was usually more perceptive than this. He knew how involved she was with this deal. She’d certainly kept him and the other two partners up to date with emails, attachments, and incessant moaning about all the headaches along the way. Until recently, he hadn’t even attended meetings, unless they were clinical in nature. What had changed?

To Stacy, this was out of right field and it stung. This was her project. It was a professional challenge that she considered a measure of her capabilities and success. Now, Jared wanted his mama. Okay, that was unfair. Stacy didn’t have the same education, experience, or business savvy as Joanne, who was a highly regarded business woman holding the enviable position of CFO at a local health system. What bothered Stacy was that in the year since she’d been practice manager, no one had ever brought Joanne in on consult before. They had an experienced team of attorneys and accountants, whose expertise didn’t come cheap.

Granted, with everything and everyone focused on this deal, there had been little new business; therefore, little opportunity to consult. He’d usually ask his mom questions, even picking her brain about business over dinner, but it had been generalities and he’d never asked her to step in before. He did this same thing with his dad about medical issues, but hadn’t ever brought him in on a case.

Stacy could see his point from a business perspective. Joanne’s experienced eyes on the contracts before committing to the deal wouldn’t hurt. How could she protest and not sound petty and ungrateful? Joanne could make a mint consulting for businesses this way and they would be getting her expertise free. Stacy’s self-confidence wavered and she began questioning herself. What if she’d missed something important like capitalizing an expensive piece of equipment or transposed numbers in the revenue projections making $15 million into $51 million by mistake? No, she told herself. She’d been over and over those figures, her research and data were triple and quadruple checked by her and their accountants. Yet if she missed something, it would cost them dearly and she would only have herself to blame. In the end, she had nodded in agreement, sitting silently and swallowing her injured pride in the best interest of the clinic.

The group lapsed into silence after that as they continued with their meal. Stacy, who’d lost her appetite, hadn’t taken a bite. Her chest felt uncomfortably tight, her throat dry and constricted, and she was struck by a sudden wave of nausea. Abruptly excusing herself, she walked out of the room without another word.

She’d passed by the guest bathroom in the main hall, rushing to the smaller one at the back of the house. There were seven to choose from in the Bakers’ sprawling estate. She opted for the one farthest away from the dining room in hopes of getting a bit more time and privacy. She needed to recover her self-control and nurse her hurt feelings for a bit. She’d splashed water on her face and neck, then paced for a while, trying to regain her composure.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she’d tried to be objective. She looked like a kid, much younger than her years. As petite as she was, she often passed for a teenager, carded consistently at bars and restaurants, even at R-rated movies, which irritated her beyond anything. Only a few years out of school, she was still considered wet behind the ears to the business world. Still, she hadn’t done anything that would make Jared or any of the partners doubt her. Looking at the blond hair atop her head, dumb blonde jokes that had plagued her for years began to rattle around in her head.

How do you change a blonde’s mind? Blow in her ear.

What do you call ten blondes standing ear to ear? A wind tunnel.

What do you call a blonde with a high IQ? A golden retriever.

As she studied her reflection, she saw her tear-bright eyes and cursed herself for her weakness. She’d done entirely too much crying in the past week. She’d identified it as one of the dozens of other issues she needed to work on with her therapist. Her therapist! A thousand thoughts and emotions streaked through her at a frenetic pace. Her tremulous hands came to her mouth in stunned realization. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Jared had always been attentive and concerned with her safety and well-being. Since the panic attack at the country club, he’d been overprotective. Now that he’d seen an attack for himself, it had obviously undermined his confidence in her. What else could it be? Looking for other reasons for his sudden doubt, she discarded each, one by one, coming back to her panic disorder and newly diagnosed PTSD each time. Great, now she had another label for which to be unjustly judged.

Just as being blond didn’t make her dumb, having PTSD or panic from a past trauma didn’t make her suddenly incompetent. Studying her hair in the mirror, she wondered if she should go red like Jessie, or maybe become a brunette. She could color her hair and erase the blond, that was an easy fix, but how could she erase Jared’s memory of her psychological meltdown?

Stacy paced agitatedly in the long bathroom and had been gone for at least fifteen minutes when Jared had come looking for her. She’d worked herself into quite a pique by this time and refused to tell him what had prompted her to leave so abruptly.

“Are you sick?” he’d asked when she’d opened the door. His tone was solicitous, but she’d snorted at his question and rolled her eyes at how thickheaded he was being.

“What is it then?” he asked pointedly.

“It’s not a panic attack, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She shook her head. She was pissed and if he didn’t know why, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. A childish reaction, true, but if he could act like an archetypal insensitive man, she could act like a typical hard-headed woman and expect her man to know what he had done to upset her. Let him stew for a while.

“So if you’re not ill and it’s not a panic attack, what’s going on with you? You’ve been incredibly rude. Are you hormonal?”

Her jaw dropped. “You did not just say that.”

“If you don’t give me an answer, I can only guess.”

“This is the side you warned me about, but when you mentioned bossy and dictatorial, you forgot to mention condescending ass.”

“Stacy—”

“Nothing is wrong. Can we go back now? I’d like dessert.”

As she brushed by him, his frustrated growl was her answer. After that, she’d turned prickly and standoffish; he’d become impatient.

“Are you feeling all right, my dear?” Russell had inquired when they returned.

“Yes, sir, except for a slight headache.”

“Don’t you like lamb, Stacy? I should have asked. Can I offer you something else?” Joanne’s offer was cut short by Jared.

“Dinner is excellent as usual, Mom. Stacy is just a bit out of sorts this evening.”

That patronizing comment had earned Jared a derisive snort. In turn, he’d placed a warning hand on her thigh under the table. Then he laid out their decisions for the wedding, including ‘scaling back significantly’ and their intention to hire a wedding planner to make all the arrangements. At that point, Stacy knew he’d come to the wrong conclusion. He’d assumed she was upset over the wedding—dumbass.

His parents had looked on in confusion. She was sure they both wondered how the initially pleasant evening had turned into such an awkward affair. Joanne asked, “What about the engagement party?”

Stacy, at last, spoke up. “I’m really not the type for formal parties, Mrs. Baker. I didn’t even go to my high school prom, so please don’t go to any trouble. As far as the wedding, I’d be fine with a small dinner party after a no-fuss civil service. To be honest, I’d much rather have a quickie marriage in Vegas. Jared nixed that idea, but I can’t help thinking how fun it would be to get married by Elvis.” Her suggestion had laid heavy over the dining room and she promptly wanted to take it back.

“We are not getting married in Vegas. We’ve already discussed that.”

Stacy frowned at his dismissive comment;
maybe we won’t get married at all
. Giving him a sidelong glance, Stacy saw that Jared’s jaw was clenched tightly in anger.
Good, now we’re even
.

Joanne looked stunned, although she’d been accepting of all the proposed changes without a word. This made Stacy’s complaints about her efforts seem petty. Left to Joanne, she would only have to show up and say, “I do” as she’d suggested to Jared earlier.

“Vegas could be fun,” Russell had offered, giving Stacy a small smile of encouragement.

“Don’t encourage her, Dad.”

He’d silenced her only ally, clueless insensitive jerk. During the awkward silence that followed, she felt the tension radiating from Jared as he sat stiffly beside her.

“The party will go on as planned,” Jared announced. “I know how hard you’ve worked to organize everything.”

“But if Stacy doesn’t want it…” His mother’s intelligent eyes flicked between the two of them, apprehensive.

“Haven’t the invitations have already gone out?”

“Yes, last week.”

Looking at her future mother-in-law, Stacy easily read the concern in her eyes. “That is fine, Joanne. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. The party I’m sure will be lovely.”

“I want whatever makes you happy, dear. As far as the wedding goes, it’s your special day, so of course you should decide.” She set her napkin beside her plate and pushed back her chair. “I’ll just go get dessert.”

Stacy felt two inches tall. Joanne was obviously upset. However, she’d nailed it when she said it was her day. She was the bride, wasn’t she? Then why did she feel like such a bitch?

“I think we’ll head out. It seems we have a few things to discuss.” He was tense, but in control like usual. After that, his conversation had been limited to clipped orders like, “button your coat” and “buckle up.” Mr. Cool had returned until she’d jumped from the moving vehicle like a maniac.

His low voice close behind her dragged her from her musings. “Are you ready to talk now?”

“Not really.”

“Then I obviously didn’t spank you long enough. Come back to the bed and bring your hairbrush.”

“No, Jared. Please.”

“You’d better come clean then.” His hands stroked up her arms and cupped her shoulders, squeezing. “What is going on in that head of yours, my beautiful girl?”

“Nothing.” Her attitude wasn’t doing her any favors, but she was still pissed at him.

“I definitely didn’t spank you hard enough. Come on.” He took her hand and tugged.

She’d only taken a step when she pulled away. “No! I’m still pissed at you, Jared.”

“That’s obvious, Stacy. Your language deteriorates when you’re angry. Why don’t you tell me what I did wrong because I’m at a loss here.”

“Fine.” This was her opportunity to confront him about work and it was on the tip of her tongue, but something made her hold back. What she finally came up with was a cop-out. “The wedding is out of control. I don’t want any of this fancy-schmancy stuff. I told you that, Jared.”

“You heard me tell my mother to back off. We went over this. What has changed since we talked this morning?”

“Nothing has changed. I shouldn’t have agreed to something I don’t want. That’s the problem. I’m trying to keep from making a fool of myself and all you want to do is make your mother happy. Excuse me, but I thought I was the bride here; nobody seems to care what I want. It’s for damn sure nobody cares how I feel, especially my groom. Maybe this is all a big mistake.”

Silence permeated the room as she finally gave voice to her concerns.

“You don’t mean that, Stacy.” His voice was low and gruff with emotion.

When she glanced at him, she saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes. It broke her heart. She moved toward him and sank against his chest, sighing with relief when his arms came up to embrace her.

“What’s this about making a fool of yourself? Why would that be?”

“Oh, Jared, we are just so—different.” Her voice broke as the emotions just below the surface burst forth. “You and your family are white glove service, which I’d never even heard of until today, but I’m imagining a waiter in a monkey suit, white gloves, and silver platters, a linen napkin across his arm. I’m paper plates, red Solo cups, and all-you-can-eat buffets. I don’t know anything about what your mom was talking about tonight. Caviar is disgusting and I have no idea which fork to use for which course at a formal dinner. I’m afraid I’ll just embarrass you and your family. It’s making me a wreck. I’m sure I’ll just trip on my train, spill gravy on my dress, or say something stupid. They’ll all think…”

“What?”

“That I’m just a stupid hick from the south and not good enough for you. And they’d be right.” Pain seared through her belly, which came out in a heart-wrenching sob.

“Baby, don’t,” he breathed as he pressed his lips against her temple, his hand stroking her hair as he held her tight. “I had no idea until today that you were so freaked out by all of this.”

She was at a fork in the road, denial versus truth, and having decided to avoid the work-related issues, she decided on the latter and gave him some truth. “I’m a nervous wreck, Jared.” Her voice shook as she told him one of her greatest fears. “What if I melt down again? In front of all those people, your family and all the people from work would know. I’d die.”

“I’m sorry, honey. This is my fault. I thought a simple ceremony, a dress, some flowers, and a small party would be no biggie, but I can see I was wrong. I can’t stand to see you this way, doubting yourself and doubting us, thinking we’re a mistake and I for damn sure don’t want to add more stress and trigger another attack.”

His hand cupped her chin and he lifted her face up to his. Through her tears, she saw the concern on his face, and was that fear?

“Is that how you really feel? That we’re making a mistake?”

She lifted her hand and palmed his beard-roughened cheek. “No, I didn’t mean that. I love you, Jared.”