Page 82 of Heartless

Chapter Twenty-Six

Madison

“Mmm, that’s the best cake I had ever tasted,” our next bride mumbled before she had even pulled the fork out of her mouth.

We sat at a table in the gardens. I had asked the staff to pull something together at the last minute. We were supposed to meet at the bakery, but apparently she woke up that morning and decided the baker and I could swing it. Which we did, of course.

My phone vibrated on the table. I glanced at the screen. Another text from Parker.

I left them all unread. He hadn’t stopped texting for two days straight. The level of attention I planned on paying him from the scale of one to ten was minus fifteen. Which was also the approximate number of unread texts I had.

“Is the groom joining us?” I asked the bride as I flipped my phone with the screen down.

“Nope.”

“Is he okay with you choosing the cake on your own?”

I had to ask to spare myself and the baker the inconvenience of a last minute change. In my experience the grooms that didn’t get involved in the planning complained the most and oftentimes they blew up over the same details they swore they didn’t care about.

“We could send him a piece,” the baker offered.

The bride shook her head. “He’s shooting a movie in Vancouver.”

“Can I have his piece?”

Parker’s voice came from behind me. I froze for a moment. Memories assaulted my brain. Of his hands, his mouth on me. Of my mouth on him. A ball of warmth formed low in my belly and I pressed my thigh together.

The women at the table greeted him with smiles, while I remained with my back to him. We sat at a round table for eight with only three seats occupied and of course he decided to sit right next to me.

“Hello, Mr. Wilson,” the baker started. “I didn’t know you would be joining us.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.”

I still didn’t look at him, but I was sure he was smiling. His tone sounded cheery. The baker’s otherwise pale face was covered in pink spots and she stuttered. “I will fetch you a piece immediately.”

She disappeared and left me alone with Parker and the bride.

“Maybe you should call the groom and ask him about the cake,” he said to our client. “We men often say things without thinking too much and then we regret it.”

I couldn’t hold the snort. The bride’s eyes flew in my direction.

“Yeah. You know what?” She smiled at Parker. “I’m going to call him right now.”

Then she stood up and in a matter of a minute since he came, we were left completely alone.

“Thanks about that by the way,” I pointed at the bride with my chin. “All her phone conversations last about an hour, but who cares, right? It’s not like I have better things to do than sit and wait at this table.”

Parker leaned too close for my comfort and whispered in my ear. “An hour? Guess how many times I could make you come in an hour.”

“Zero,” I deadpanned, and he laughed. And that's when I finally looked at him.

There was no trace of regret on his face. That was what I feared the most, didn’t I? That he decided what happened was a huge mistake. A violation of the memory of his perfect wife.

God, I really was an awful person. I was jealous of a dead woman. But how could I not be when he made his living space into something like a tomb? Even if he was ready to sleep around, that didn’t mean she wasn’t the permanent resident of his heart.

That thought made my own heart stop for a second.

Why do you care if he still loves her or not? It’s not like you want his affections.

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