Page 33 of Holiday Wedding
11 days until the wedding
Jenny
When we all return to Marjorie, she’s flipping through her text messages, poring over the photos of the flowers we found in the shop. Melinda watches over her shoulder, murmuring her approval when she sees something she likes.
“Good job,” Caleb’s mom says finally, looking up from her phone. “I think I have everything we need. Who wants to go to lunch?”
Melinda waves her hands excitedly and says, “Me! I could definitely go for some food and a cup of coffee.”
“Sorry, Mom,” says Caleb. “I’ve got to run home and change before rehearsal.”
We don’t bother asking Dean what he’s going to do. It’s a given that he’ll stay with Caleb.
“I can’t go either,” I add. “I have to meet my editor from L.A.”
Dean’s head snaps up at that. “Who? Eddie?”
I nod affirmative. “He’s here for the day to go over some work stuff. We’re meeting at an Italian place a few blocks over. Ulivo, I think it’s called.”
The five of us say our good-byes, and I walk outside. I’m lucky that the snow has decided to take a break. It’s still a dusty blanket under my feet, but it’s done falling for now. I find the restaurant easily. It’s small, with a glass counter near the entryway full of pastries. An éclair has been frosted like aChristmas tree, with another one striped like a candy cane. An elaborate expresso machine sits next to the cash register.
I walk past that and into a room filled with upholstered booths and rectangular tables. Eddie is waiting for me, already seated. He doesn’t bother to get up as I approach. It’s hard to reconcile this version of him versus the man who would have jumped up when we first started dating.
“Eddie,” I greet him and slide into the seat directly across from him.
“Jenny,” he returns, raking his gaze over me in an overt way that makes me cringe. “Thanks for meeting up with me.”
Like I had any choice.
“How’d the flower shopping go?” Eddie takes a sip of coffee from the cup that sits by his elbow. “Isn’t Gwen’s mom in town now?”
“She was there.” I signal the waiter from across the room. When he looks over, I point to the coffee and then to me. I’m going to need caffeine to make it through this lunch. Talking to Eddie always makes me uneasy. He’s like a spider, waiting for a bug to fly into his sticky web. “It went fine.”
“No fighting between the two moms?” he asks, just as I predicted.
“None,” I declare as the waiter brings a steaming coffee cup, which he places in front of me. “They’re working together to make the wedding as perfect as possible.”
“What about you?” Eddie leans forward, both elbows on the table.
“What do you mean?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “I’m helping too.”
“No,” he says. “What I meant was, does it bother you? Being the bridesmaid, but never the bride? Isn’t this the third time you’ve been a bridesmaid?”
It’s the fourth time, actually, but I won’t admit that. Instead, I sputter with my jaw dropped open. I’m surprised he went there. Sure. I’ve had that thought over the past few weeks, but for Eddie to say it out loud, to blurt it out, is so insulting it’s painful.
“Maybe it’s not for you. Being the long-term girlfriend. The wife,” he continues, the bastard. It’s like he’s seen the fear in the darkest part of my soul and has decided to give it a voice. I know he’s trying to goad me. I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s too much. The back of my throat tightens, and my vision blurs as tears gather.
Before a single one falls, we’re interrupted.
“I was looking for you,” says a deep, familiar voice behind me. Eddie’s eyes go wide as he gazes up at the man who spoke.
I turn to glance over my shoulder. There he is, 200 pounds of pure muscle paired with a stern expression, wearing his typical navy-blue suit.
Dean.
My spirits sink further. He’s the last person I want to witness my humiliation. “What’re you doing here?” I croak, my throat raw from unshed tears.
“I wanted to see you, sweetheart,” Dean says, smiling widely in a way that shows off all his teeth. He slides into the booth next to me, bumping me aside with his hip.
