Page 6 of Chasing Mr. December

Chapter 4

Jason

Six years earlier

“Okay, people. Places everyone,” the militant event planner barks.Good grief. What was Corinne thinking with this lady?“We just need to get through this one time, and you can depart to enjoy your dinner.”

“Where’d your girl find this little ray of sunshine?” Dad chuckles behind me. “Isn’t this supposed to be a fun evening before your big day?”

“She probably doesn’t want it coming back on her if we make a wreck of the ceremony.” All of a sudden, I realize it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Glancing up, I find the woman in question with her arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping like she’s waiting on a petulant first grader to stop passing notes during class.

“Sorry,” I quickly blurt as Dad pokes me in the back.

“If the groom and his best man could take their places here at the front, we’ll have the bridal party enter as we discussed, followed by Corinne and her father.”

Turning, I give Dad a playful glare before making haste to the front of the church to stand beside my best man, Ian. Honestly, unless he’s the guy about to wed the girl of his dreams, no man chooses to spend his Friday evening doing this shit. I get it. But Ian’s expression seems more than simply annoyed. I’m tempted to ask if he’s feeling okay. Yet I’m not brave enough to risk the wrath of Medusa and her bionic ears.

After the bridal party has taken their places, the pianist begins the wedding march, signaling Corinne’s moment has arrived. As my fiancée comes into view on the arm of her father, my heart skips a beat.

How the hell did I get so lucky?

As Corinne glides down the aisle, I muse it could just as well be a runway. She’s stunning. At five foot eight, with a slim figure, long platinum blonde hair, and green eyes, my girl is any man’s fantasy come to life. We’d met during our junior year of high school. Even back then, I couldn’t understand what someone like her would see in a guy like me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a bad-looking fella. I’ve never been a jock, but I’ve always tried to stay fit. My plan from an early age was to attend the fire academy, and I knew it was imperative I be in top physical condition to manage the rigorous training required. Corinne always teased we were the most attractive couple at Magnolia Point High School.

Was I merely arm candy?

Life with Corinne hadn’t been perfect. I’d hoped to move to Sycamore Mountain to start my career as a firefighter. I hadn’t been able to cease the longing I had to return after visiting with my parents all those years ago. Quite simply, it was God’s country. However, Corinne wanted no part of that life. Shot me down, no questions asked. She blamed it on wanting to stay close to her family. Yet, in the time we’d dated, she was rarely home other than to sleep. She spent most of her time with me and Ian. I suspect it was more the resort lifestyle she was unwilling to let go. Her parents had spoiled her rotten. She never missed an opportunity for a spa day or shopping spree, neither of which would be easy to come by in the mountains of North Carolina.

But they say relationships are all about compromise. So, if I need to stay in the town where my dad and my friends live in order to keep my gorgeous wife happy, that’s what I’ll do. I’ve just come to accept my days off will likely be spent working a second job to keep her in the lifestyle she’s become accustomed.

“Hi, baby,” I whisper as she comes to stand beside me.

The drill sergeant clears her throat as if reminding me she doesn’t want to have to put me in time out if I continue my shenanigans. Corinne gives me an irritated frown.

Jeez, lighten up. It’s not that bad.

The minister quickly rambles through what we should expect tomorrow. Thank goodness Corinne wasn’t interested in writing sappy vows. Now I can relax until we move on to the kissing of the bride, the party, and ourhon-ee-moon! A lascivious grin takes over my face until my eyes connect with a scowling preacher. I recoil, nearly taking a step back. Does he have some divine telepathy? I must’ve been stuck in my head longer thanI realized, contemplating all the ways I planned to consummate our marriage, as I’d missed when everyone had been dismissed to head to the restaurant for the dinner portion of the evening.

Turning to catch up to my bride, my efforts are quickly thwarted as she yells, “I’ll meet you there, Jason.” My fiancée spins on her heel and darts through the exit doors. Looking around, I notice most everyone has filed out except my father and sister.

“You know it’s not too late to back out, right?” Lacey asks deadpan.

“What? No,” I gasp. “I’m excited about tomorrow.”

My sister’s never been a fan of “Malibu Barbie” as she refers to Corinne. They’re as different as whiskey and wine. While Lacey grew up a latchkey kid, helping ensure I did my homework, getting dinner started as well as any household chores my mother needed help with, Corinne was a child of affluence. My bride hadn’t grown up with the same expectations we had. It wasn’t her fault, merely fortunate circumstance I defended. Yet Lacey wanted to hear nothing of it and would often retreat to the guest room if Corinne was over when she was visiting me and Dad from Chicago.

“Awe, leave the boy alone, Lace. You wouldn’t think anyone was good enough for your baby brother.”

“Um, I could think of about a hundred girls better than the one he’s marrying. Including a few randos off the street.”

Throwing my hand over my heart in shock, I splutter, “Lace, you want me to marry a streetwalker?” I’ve missed seeing my sister. She’s four years older and had already begun college in the Midwest before we moved here. Lacey married her college sweetheart, and they have two of the cutest little girls on theplanet. Given how young they are, she had to make this a solo trip.

“You two haven’t changed a bit since you were kids,” my dad quips. “I can’t believe either of you is mature enough to be married. Now, get in the car and let’s get some of that high-priced dinner I’m paying for before it’s all gone.”

We pull up to The Mad Vine, a mid-upscale restaurant on Corinne’s short list of approved venues suitable for the rehearsal dinner. They specialize in farm-to-table dining. Had it been up to me and Dad, we’d most likely have had it at Luigi’s Pizzeria.Or our backyard.Heck, with Mom’s vegetable garden still thriving, we could’ve had our own garden-to-table spread.

Climbing out of the truck, I join my father and sister before the three of us head for the entrance. After Lacey advises the hostess we’re with the wedding party, the young woman dressed in black extends her arm to the private room in the back of the restaurant where we see several of the bridesmaids whispering behind curved palms. Yeah, Corinne’s friends are rumormongers. No way am I sitting next to those wagging tongues. How does anyone enjoy gossipfest all night long? I mean, come on. It’s Magnolia Point. Nothing that chinwag worthy happens here.

Once we walk inside, we stroll through the dark wooden tables and chairs to the back of the establishment to find the majority of the bridal party noshing on appetizers and dipping rustic bread in olive oil. Several sommeliers are dotted about the space offering wine options. Looking about the room, I don’t see Corinne. Perhaps she hit the ladies’ room. Spotting Ian, I head in his direction.

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