Page 81 of The Wedding Run
My senses are overloaded, like Charlie tripping on caffeine. Maybe that’s why I can’t let this go. “But how do you know?” I argue. “Relationships take work. They don’t just happen.”
“Are you saying your lists will save a relationship?” he asks.
“My lists… and micromanaging helped us get through the wedding today.”
Someone bumps into Luke, and then another person cuts between us. Luke pulls me toward him as the crowd jostles us, and I find myself nestled snugly against his chest, his arm and shoulder shielding me from the throng.
“Someone opened the floodgates,” he whispers in my ear, sending a tingling sensation down my spine.
We make our way toward vendors selling arts and crafts. One vendor offers handmade bandanas for dogs.
Luke holds out a bandana made of fabric that resembles a spring bouquet. “For Bailey?”
“Thoughtful, but too girly.”
He searches for another bandana. “Your lists can be useful, but they also have their limits. You don’t want a husband or boyfriend to bring you flowers because it’s written on a list or calendar, do you? Or do you want him to think of you and, onhis way home, pick up flowers because he misses you and loves you?”
He gets a point for that one.
I sigh. “Derek bought me flowers on our anniversary and my birthday because his secretary reminded him. Or maybe she ordered them. I don’t know.”
“Not everyone has a secretary,” Luke says. “But then again, I’m not an expert on romance and relationships.”
“Did your fiancée have lofty expectations that you couldn’t meet?”
Luke continues to search through the assortment of bandanas. “Not exactly.”
Maybe I went too far. “I’m sorry, Luke. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He shows me a bandana that says, ‘Take a hike.’
“Trying to tell me something?” I ask with a smile.
“Never.” He leans against the display table and faces me. “I was more like Derek. Not realizing how I wasn’t meeting her expectations.”
“Maybe her expectations were unrealistic,” I suggest.
He sighs, his blue eyes turning stormy. “When my sister died, I didn’t take it well. I was angry and emotional. Understandable, I guess. It took me a long time to move through the grief. I was moody and depressed.”
I’m nodding, connecting on many levels.
“At the same time,” he says, “my fiancée was planning our wedding. It felt like we were on two different planets. She wanted to talk about colors and flowers, venues and cake flavors. And… I didn’t. I tested her patience. She interpreted my indifference as a sign that I didn’t care.”
“Oh, Luke…” I can’t imagine him in such a dark place. He’s usually cheerful and steady. Yet, I’ve been in a dark place and know how hard it is to climb out of that deep well.
“I didn’t say that to get your sympathy. As I said, I’m a pretty simple guy. Usually, I’m grateful for every day.” Then his eyes brighten. He reaches past me to a bright red bandana with a bulldog. “Go Dawgs.”
I smile. “I always wanted a dog. Dad had his hands full raising three girls. A few months ago, Derek and I considered getting a puppy, but he’s allergic.”
Luke sharpens his gaze. “No, he’s not.”
“What?” At the sound of my shriek, several people turn and look at us.
“My folks used to have a dog. Chester was this big, goofy rescue. No idea what breed. Part elephant, Mom used to joke, because of the amount of food he ate. But he was the gentlest dog you’d ever want to meet. When Derek first came to visit my folks, I told him Chester’s name was Cujo, because he had a violent past.”
“Cujo?” I ask. “As in Stephen King’s novel?"
Luke suppresses a laugh. “You should have seen Derek jump and squirm when Chester sniffed around him. Derek was petrified the whole weekend until Mom figured out what I’d done and told Derek Chester’s real name. Eventually, Derek warmed up to Chester. Aside from that, Derek had no problem being around him.”
