Page 19 of The Wedding Run
I creep toward the window, staying low, and peek out from behind the curtain. Derek. Immediately, I duck back, holding my breath. I can’t avoid him forever, but I don’t want or need to see him tonight.
Another deep voice interrupts my thoughts. It’s Luke responding to Derek. But I can’t make out what he’s saying, and I lean closer to the open window.
“She here?” Derek asks.
I dare another glance. Derek wears slacks and a button-down. I bet ten bucks he has a sports coat draped over the passenger seat.
“She’s staying with my folks,” Luke answers.
“Did you have something to do with this, Luke? You left, and thenpoof!she was gone.”
“I went to get the ring, Derek. The ring you forgot.” Luke pulls something from his pocket and hands it to Derek. “On my way back, Libby was walking along the highway. I didn’t think that was safe, so I offered to help. That’s all.”
Derek opens the ring box and then snaps it shut. “Let me talk to her.”
“Tomorrow would be better. She’s tired. You’re tired. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret.”
“I have a flight in the morning,” Derek says as he stuffs the velvet box in his pocket.
“You’re going on your honeymoon? Alone? Or…? Oh, the property. Why else would you choose Ohio over Maui? All to make a deal.”
“What would you know about making a buck?” Derek challenges. “Or getting married?”
I sense a shift in the air, a combativeness I was not expecting.
There’s a pause before Luke says, “You should go.”
“I’m not sure you’re the one who should be telling me about women, Luke.” Derek takes an angry step forward.
But Luke squares up, clearly not one to back down.
I hold my breath, worrying someone is going to get punched in the face. By the looks of it, Luke can hold his own or better.
Finally, Derek raises his hands in a defensive posture. “Look, I need you to keep her here. Until I return.”
“This isn’t medieval times, Derek. She can do whatever she wants.”
“Yeah, and you’re no knight in shining armor,” Derek accuses. “Don’t go playing the hero, all right?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Luke says.
“Hey, man, aren’t you my best man? It’ll only be a few days,” Derek cajoles.
Oh, how I recognize that tone, the one that could coax me into going out when all I wanted was to stay home with a good book, relax in jeans and a comfy T-shirt, or tend my garden.
“Just talk to her,” Derek continues. “Help her rethink her decision. Talk me up. Remind her that we’re good together.”
“She must have her reasons for thinking otherwise,” Luke counters. “Her mother’s letter?—”
“Who cares about some musty old letter written twenty-something years ago? What does that have to do with today? With us?”
“Maybe more than you think.”
“Look, man, you owe me. I don’t like to remind you of that, but you do.”
There’s a longer pause, and I wonder if I missed Luke’s response. I lean closer to the open window, so close that I jeopardize my clandestine position. But I have to hear what is being said.
Finally, Luke says, “She wants me to help her find something that belonged to her mother. It’s a way for me to, you know, be with her.”
