The Goodbye Bride (9 page)

“You're going to need a better lock. A dead bolt.”

She entered the living room, looking around at the unfamiliar sleek furniture. The walls were dove gray, the carpet white. The charcoal leather sofa looked like it was built to admire, not sit on. The end tables were glass and metal. On the wall was a Georgia O'Keefe floral print, nicely framed, and a skyline of a city—Portland, she presumed. It was a nicely appointed apartment, but it was not to her taste.

She felt Zac's presence as he entered the room. “Nice place. Anything seem familiar?”

She shook her head. “Zac, this isn't even my style. Or in my budget. Are you sure this is my place?” What if they'd picked someone else's lock?

“The camera crew wouldn't be here if it weren't.”

“Oh. Right.” She hoped she would get her brain back soon.

His eyes drifted around the room. “Maybe it was furnished.” He walked toward a table while she wandered down a short hall.

A nice bedroom. A fancy bathroom with a big garden tub. She stopped in the bathroom doorway as her eyes caught on her red can of Big Sexy Hair. She picked up the mousse and the familiar hairbrush and pulled them close. Her eyes fell on her facial cleanser, and she grabbed that too.

Zac appeared in the doorway, his eyes dropping to the products she cradled like a baby in her arms. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she set them down on the marble counter, one by one, her hands shaking.

You're really losing it, Lucy.

“I found some stuff.” He held up some envelopes. “Mail. Looks like a bank statement and a few bills. A paycheck.”

“A paycheck? From where?”

“Someplace called Vacasa.”

She took the check, frowning at the place of employment she'd never even heard of. At the amount of the paycheck. Even if it was only a weekly paycheck, it wasn't enough to justify a place like this.

She shook her head. “It doesn't make any sense.”

“You probably had a second job. Let's see if we can find some car keys.”

She followed him into the living room, through a tiny dining room, and into a kitchen. Maybe Brad had forked out the money for the apartment. She couldn't imagine living off a man like that, but nothing else made sense.

“Bingo,” he said, scooping an unfamiliar leather purse off the counter. He handed it to her.

“Why would my purse be here? Wouldn't I have taken it with me?”

He shrugged.

But no, she would've carried a dainty little white one to go with her dress. And likely a small suitcase or overnight bag. She'd had to change and get ready, after all.

Runaway Bride.

She pushed the thought away as she rifled through her bag. “I doubt if my car's even here.” Her fingers connected with the metal edges of keys. She pulled out the ring containing three keys and a Buick remote fob.

But she drove a 2010 Mini Cooper, and she'd never had the luxury of remote start. She frowned. “These aren't mine.”

“I'm betting they are.”

He walked to the window and peered through the sheers before pulling them back an inch. “They're still there.”

She came up behind him, close enough to smell his spicy, woodsy scent. She drew in a deep breath, committing the smell to memory.

Zac aimed the fob toward the street, pushing a button.

Lights flashed on a Buick sedan parked just down the street.

“Bingo.” He handed the keys back to her.

Their eyes met and clung, the lamplight washing over his handsome features. Was he really going to leave her here? Had she really lost him forever?

How can this have happened, God? I love him so much.

He cleared his throat and palmed the back of his neck. “Um, you should check your purse for your phone. It'll have your contacts and texts. Maybe it'll help you remember something.”

“It wasn't in there.”

“Right. I guess you would've had it on you when you fell. You should call the diner in the morning and see if they found it.”

She nodded absently. She didn't even remember the name of the diner or have a clue where it was. She was going to have to call Brad back whether she wanted to or not. Maybe he could point her toward a friend she'd trusted. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so alone. So sad.

“What do you think they meant, Lucy?” His deep voice cut straight through her. She met his silvery eyes and gloried in the tenderness she saw there. “About the Runaway Bride thing?”

She wrenched her eyes away, shifting under his steady gaze. He had a way of making her feel like he could see right through her. Right down to the center of her heart. Somehow he'd loved her anyway.

“How would I know?”

“Right.” He shifted away, driving his hands into his pockets. His eyes flittered around the sterile apartment, then came back to rest on her. “You're all settled then. I should get going.”

Her heart drummed against her ribs as he headed toward the
door. Adrenaline emptied into her system, making her pulse race and her limbs tremble.

“Can't I get you something to drink?”

“It's late. I have a long drive.”

“Something for the road then? Some iced tea?” Surely she had iced tea.

“No thanks.”

She followed him, fighting the insane urge to grab his shirt and drag him back. Or race ahead and throw herself in front of the door.

But he didn't want her. Didn't love her anymore. He was eager to get back to his Lucyless Summer Harbor life. And what did she have? An unfamiliar apartment in a foreign city, a fiancé she didn't remember, and oh yes, a gaggle of reporters on her front stoop. Panic rose in her throat, adding to the lump of emotion already knotting there.

Zac opened the door and turned, looking down at her with his cool, steely eyes.

Her feelings must've been written all over her face, because his eyes softened the smallest bit. “You'll be fine. You know where you work, and you have your car and your money, and your . . . fiancé.”

I don't love him. I love you.

“I left his number on the table. You should call him. He'll help you get all this straightened out.”

His words didn't even register. She stared at him, mentally begging him to stay. Why was everyone always leaving her? What was wrong with her?

Panic bubbled up, swelling inside. Her heart thrashed in her ears.
Do not beg, Lucy Lovett. Do not.

The softness was gone from his eyes. Now they were just cold, hard pewter. His jaw was set in a stubborn line, his lips pressed together. As much as she might want to curl up in his arms one last time, it would be like hugging a cold marble statue. And she didn't think she could take one more rejection.

“Be sure and lock up behind me,” he said in a tight voice. “Take care, Lucy.”

Her lip trembled, and she caught it between her teeth and gave a little nod. It was all she could do.

And then he was gone, the door falling shut in front of her as so many others had before.

Chapter 10

Z
ac pushed open the main door of Lucy's apartment and plowed through the paparazzi.

“Where's Lucy?”

“Can we get your name?”

“Where's she been since Saturday?”

“Are you the reason she left Brad at the altar?”

Zac clamped his lips under the barrage of questions, his eyes straight ahead. He made quick work of the ground between the building and his truck and was glad for the silence once he was inside.

They were still on the stoop. He wasn't important enough to follow. But Lucy was another matter.

Not your problem.

But the image of Lucy's face as he'd left surfaced in his mind. Her skin pale and ghostly, her eyes flashing with panic.

He pushed the image firmly away as he pulled from the curb. His heart fought a battle with his rib cage, and an achy feeling was swelling in his gut.

She's a grown woman. She'll be fine.

He turned on the radio as he accelerated onto the highway a few minutes later. A mournful country song bled into the cab, and he switched the station to something more upbeat.

Lucy was where she belonged, and he was on his way back to normalcy. If normal wasn't all that great, well, he could work with that. He'd been doing it since she'd left. Picking up the pieces was never fun. And if she'd put another dent in his heart, well . . . it would heal. Eventually. He'd forgotten the pull of her sweet Southern drawl, of her liquid blue eyes. The heady draw of her small hand in his.

But she'd seemed so forlorn tonight. So lost as she looked around her unfamiliar apartment, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist.

She has her fiancé. He'll help her through this.

He had to stop this. He turned up the radio and tried to lose himself in the country tune.

It was late. Almost eleven. Time for the TV news, he realized. Would they cover Lucy's story? Would everyone in the city soon be in Lucy's business?

“Why'd you leave your wedding, Lucy? They're calling you the Runaway Bride.”

He frowned at the street in front of him, the words marching like soldiers through his mind. Was that really what had happened? Was that why she'd been alone in the diner when she'd fallen? Had she left yet another groom at the altar? He almost felt sorry for the guy.

A part of him felt vindicated. If he wasn't the only one she'd left, the problem wasn't him. Wasn't
them.
It was her. He chided himself for the thought. This wasn't about him or them. This was about Lucy.

Lucy, who no longer had a fiancé.

And why hadn't the guy mentioned the small matter of getting ditched at the altar on the phone? What did Zac even know about this guy? Just because he'd been engaged to Lucy didn't mean he was on the up-and-up. She hadn't known him long. He could be a real schmuck. Maybe that's why she'd dumped his sorry rear end.

If he'd kept the one secret from her, who knew what other lies he'd tell? And how would she know any better if she couldn't remember anything for herself? She was in a vulnerable position.

And you're just leaving her at his mercy?

His heart rate kicked up, and his breaths came short and quick.

Don't do it, man. Don't go back.

He gripped the steering wheel, wishing he could pick up the phone and call his dad. He'd had a way of cutting through all the details and getting down to the nitty-gritty. He'd know what Zac should do. But he was gone, and Zac was on his own.

He'd have to sort through the details himself.

Lucy didn't belong in Summer Harbor. She'd already broken his heart once. Beau had been texting him regular reminders since he'd stopped over yesterday. He'd been pushing Zac to get her back to Portland as soon as possible. Beau knew she was Zac's kryptonite.

But then he pictured her face as he'd turned to leave. He saw her lips wobbling. Watched the tears trembling on her lashes. Heard the thready whisper of her last words.

And he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave her there. He pounded his palm on the steering wheel, then did it again for good measure.
Dumb, stupid . . .

He drifted into the right lane and took the next exit, hoping he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

The pounding on the door made Lucy jump. Her heart skittered across her chest. Had the reporters slipped inside? They'd still been out there a few minutes ago when she'd watched Zac leave.

Or maybe it was her fiancé. Maybe Brad had gotten wind of her return.

Please no. She just couldn't deal with him right now.

She crossed the room and moved down the short hall. Just a little peek out the peephole. She didn't have to answer. She pressed her fingertips against the door and leaned in. Her eyes widened on Zac's figure. His eyes were cast on the floor, his lips tight.

Zac! She didn't even care why he was back; she was just so happy to see his face again. Her heart found a new speed, and her fingers shook as they twisted the lock and opened the door.

His eyes pierced her. Something glimmered there. Anger? Frustration?

She studied his face for a hint of the reason for his return, but it was an inscrutable mask.

Her mouth went dry. Words stuck in her throat. Hope clawed at her chest, her limbs tingling with it.

“Pack a bag.” His voice was gruff. “And make it quick.”

Air whooshed from her lungs. “You're taking me home?”

“You're going to follow me.” His lips tightened. “And this is just until your memory's back.”

Tension she didn't even know she held drained away, replaced by a light, giddy feeling. The backs of her eyes stung. She pressed a palm to her pounding heart.

“Come on, get moving,” he said tersely. “The vultures are still out there, and I'd like to get at least a little sleep tonight.”

Chapter 11

L
ucy approached the wide front-porch steps of the Primrose Inn in Summer Harbor. The sun was high overhead, chasing away the morning chill. The lush landscaping dazzled with colorful blooms, and raw green stems peeked through the mulch as if wanting to join the summertime fun. Her mama would've loved it.