Bad Boy's Bridesmaid: A Secret Baby Romance (20 page)

I expected
Lindsey to freak. So did Mandy. No one was more surprised than her when Lindsey
bounded to her feet, leapt before me, and wrapped me in a hug.

“Nate, you are a
genius!
”

Mandy squeaked.
“No, he’s not!”

“We’ll have the
wedding this weekend! The dresses are ready. The tuxes are altered. We can
order tables and chairs and make more decorations. Christmas lights and
candles!” She turned to Mandy. “Remember wedding scenario D? Outdoor Fairy
Haven? It’s back on.”

Mandy collapsed
in the easy chair. “Back on?”

“Call Dad. Tell
him you need the rest of the week off.” Lindsey grinned at Bryce. “We’re going
to get married
now
!”

Problem solved.
I arched an eyebrow at Mandy.

There. It
should’ve impressed her. She asked for help. I delivered.

That didn’t
explain why she groaned and bolted to the bathroom. She really didn’t handle
stress well, but it wouldn’t matter once the wedding was over.

I never felt
this way about a woman before, and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
Nothing was going to change my feelings for Mandy.

Nothing.

We had two days
until the wedding, and that was being generous.

Two days to
schedule the ceremony and reception around a funeral, but at least we could
post the little flags on the cars and convoy to the party in mass.

After a full day
of last-minute details—buying shoes, setting salon appointments, securing
decorations, and soliciting the help of
anyone
with the last name
Prescott who wasn’t actively mourning—I couldn’t move anymore.

Slipping away
for an hour to go to a doctor’s appointment was like escaping a POW camp, and
the only rest I had during the day was that first instant my feet hit the
stirrups.

I saw the baby
for the first time.

That little spec
of static with the wub-dubbing heartbeat made it the best day of my life.

I still had the
picture in my pocket, completely secret. I didn’t even call Rick and tell him
my blip of a baby was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

I didn’t want to
share it with Rick. I wanted to share the moment with Nate…and I was too afraid
to pick up the phone and call.

Now my feet
ached. My head hurt. My stomach couldn’t heave anymore.

For the first
time, pregnancy kicked my butt, and the only thing I wanted was a soft blanket,
a bowl of strawberry ice cream, and Nate. I successfully wrapped myself in the
blanket, but I was too exhausted to move. The ice cream was a fading fantasy.

And Nate?

Oh Lord.

He would have
tasted better than any dessert.

It was only two
more days of the secret, and then I could tell him everything…including the
other words I might say. Something as scary as the pregnancy beat my heart a
little faster, but it was just as amazing and exciting and
risky
.

I didn’t dare
admit it to myself, but every time I saw Nate, every time he touched me or
smiled at me or whispered those naughty words to get me into bed, I stumbled
that much deeper into my little pit of mistakes.

First, I had to tell
him about the baby.

Then, if there
wasn’t a Nate shaped hole smacked through my wall and a father-to-be sprinting
to the west coast, I’d reveal the
real
truth—why I was so afraid.

I could handle
the pregnancy myself.

But I couldn’t
lose
him
.

My phone vibrated.
I groaned, tempted to throw the damn thing against the wall. But I recognized
the caterer’s number. I had to take the call.

“Hey Mandy, it’s
Jeff.” The caterer talked quick. “Got some good news. We can do your order for
Saturday.”

Thank God. And
it only took a budget twice what we anticipated.

“You have no idea
how glad I am to hear that,” I said. “And you can bring extra tables and
chairs?”

“Absolutely.
We’ll take care of the set up too if you get us into the venue ahead of time.”

“Is it wrong to
say I love you?”

“My wife
probably wouldn’t like it—”

“Well, she’s a
damned lucky lady.” I rubbed my eyes. “Okay, so that’s dinner for two fifty,
the tables, the chairs, the cutlery, the paper products.”

“That’s right.
Two hundred and fifty vegetarian dinners—a wild mushroom polenta with a porcini
sauce or grilled vegetables with green goddess dressing and a Greek salad.”

I sucked in a
breath. Oh, just when I thought I was getting ahead, life had to kick me into
the dirt.

“
Vegetarian
dinners?” I hated to ask the question. “Do you have…
non
-vegetarian
options?”

“Well…no. The
bride requested vegetarian selections.”

“For
herself
,”
I said. “
Lindsey’s
the vegetarian. Everyone else is a straight-up
carnivore.”

“Oh.”

“Oh no.”

“Well, we can’t
change our options now. Unfortunately, there’s too little time to buy and prep
the ingredients for a new menu…” He cleared his throat. “If you cancel…we’d
have to keep the deposit.”

Damn. What was
worse? No food at the wedding…or no meat? Without meat, my family would assume
there
was
no food. But we had to serve something.

“No,” I said.
“We’ll take it. Same plan. We’ll think of something.”

I sorted out the
details and hung up. That added a fifteenth item to my to-do list, and probably
meant I had no time to sleep tonight. I rolled off the couch, got sick, and
rushed to the bathroom.

I didn’t make it
to the toilet, but the bathtub worked. I hardly had the energy to sit up, but I
did have the motivation to cry. The first blubbering tears stole my breath. Frustration
smacked me over the head.

This wasn’t
fair.

I had no idea
how to do this on my own anymore—and it wasn’t just the wedding scaring the
bejesus out of me. I hauled myself to my feet and brushed my teeth. It helped,
but only a little.

The stress was
too much.

Even if I didn’t
tell him about the baby, Nate had said he wanted to help. He promised he’d be
there for me.

He said he
wanted me.

So maybe he’d
help me now?

Why was I so
terrified to dial his number? My lip trembled before he answered. I sniffled as
the call connected, and as soon as I heard his voice, I whimpered.

Nate laughed.

“That’s a
great
Lindsey impression,” he said. “Sounds real.”

I had a bad
habit when I cried—I forgot to breathe, some sort of subconscious attempt to
not actually make a sound. It never worked. Inevitably I’d huffed some choked
gasp that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a sick, orgasmic ostrich.

It wasn’t sexy,
and it wasn’t quiet.

Nate stopped
laughing. “Oh, damn. You’re really upset. What’s wrong? Bryce didn’t get cold
feet again did he?”

Warning bells
clanged in my head. “
What
?”

“Shit. Never
mind. Forget I said anything.”

Great. I
reminded myself to add note sixteen to the to-do list—chase down the groom. He
used to be a linebacker. That wouldn’t be easy.

I choked up
again.

“Mandy, what’s
wrong?”

Everything
.

Where to start?
I couldn’t breathe, and the damn tears frustrated me more. I put the phone down
to grunt out the breath lost in my chest. It did nothing. I coughed it out,
more humiliated that I called Nate and could only cry.

The words came,
but not in the right order.

“It’s all
mushrooms
!”

Tears rolled
over my cheeks. Something told me the baby wouldn’t like mushrooms. The wedding
would be ruined, my family destroyed, the baby would hate everything I tried to
feed it, and I’d be the world’s worst Maid of Honor and mother because I didn’t
check on the
meat.

“
What’s
all mushrooms?” Nate talked slowly. “You gotta give me a little bit more.”

“Dinner. The
wedding. All vegetarian. We all have to eat mushrooms.”

“Oh…I don’t like
mushrooms.”

He sliced the
final cut straight through my heart. I collapsed onto the floor.

“Hey, fine. I’ll
eat mushrooms. Before, during, or after the wedding. As many as you want. I
promise. Just tell me what the hell is happening.”

“The caterers
are making vegetarian-only meals.”

“Why?”

“Lindsey scared
them! She ordered
her
dinner and said she’d rather skin them alive for
getting the dinner wrong than hurt one chicken.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I don’t know
how I’m supposed to get my nails done and put up the decorations and help the
caterers and organize the string quartet and hire the other DJ…” The tears came
back. “I haven’t even learned how to
nae nae
.”

“How to what?”

“Mom’s dress
isn’t done—she wants to wear that red hoochie-momma outfit, and Lindsey is
flipping out. Dad doesn’t have the money right now to pay half the people we
need to pay. There’s no cake—we’re ordering cupcakes from this place called
Sweet Nibbles, but we’re probably going to have to bake cookies too—”

“Mandy, take a
breath.”

“Half the family
is ecstatic they can do the funeral and wedding in the same weekend, but my
cousins are pissed because they said it's disrespectful, but that’s only because
they’ve always wanted Great Aunt Mildred’s jewelry collection, and Lindsey had
already asked to wear the rings and necklace for the wedding—”

“Mandy.”

“I haven’t eaten
all day. My dress doesn’t fit right. Mom and Dad are fighting again—they can’t
even be in the same room. We terrified your dad today. Again. We wanted to make
sure the ceremony was good to go, and some very blasphemous things were said
when my dad suggested Lindsey and Bryce get some counseling after the wedding
to help the marriage…”

“It’s okay. What
else?”

Why did it feel
so good to tell him all this? I sniffled. I think I ranted everything. I
pouted.

“My socks are on
the wrong feet.”

“How do you
know?”

“I can
tell
.”

“Okay. Here’s
what’s going to happen.” Nate’s voice became to a gentle command. “You lay down
and take a nap.”

“What? I
can’t
!”

“I’ll be over in
two hours. You relax until then, try to stay calm, and we’re going to solve the
problems one at a time…starting with the wedding food. Okay?”

Nate was gifted
in bed, but he wasn’t a miracle worker outside my panties. “O—okay.”

“I’ll see you in
a bit.”

The call ended.

I should have
slept. Instead I sprung into a frantic, pulse-pounding scattershot effort to shove
as many blankets, bras, books, boxes, and empty water bottles into my closet as
I could, in lieu of cleaning.

I tossed the
unscrubbed pot soaking in the sink into the oven before rushing to the laundry
basket to find something that looked remotely casual. My favorite pair of jeans
suddenly fit a lot differently, and I didn’t even want to consider those
consequences.  A pair of yoga pants worked though.

I tucked into a
comfy t-shirt and pretended like I could face the most gorgeous man in the
world armed with only a tube of strawberry scented lip balm and a ponytail.

An hour and a
half later, Nate knocked at the door. I nearly forgot to tuck the sonogram picture
into the deepest pocket of my purse.

I took no
chances. I hid the purse and the picture in the closet with all the other
unmentionables.

I answered the
door to a pile of three boxes. Nate slid a fourth down the hall. I peeked
inside.

Lettuce?
Tomatoes? He bought three bags of cheddar cheese the size of my head and a tub
of sour cream I could swim in…

…And if Lindsey
saw the thirty pounds of ground meat he hauled onto my counter, she’d
personally brand both of our behinds.

“What are you
doing?” I stared as Nate unloaded sleeve upon sleeve of hard taco shells. “Tell
me you didn’t rob Mexico.”

“I have a friend
who works at a restaurant depot. One of those stores that sell in bulk directly
to commercial kitchens. He hooked me up.”

“With…a walking
heart attack?”

Nate’s
mischievous grin turned proud. “
Taco bar
, baby! Everyone loves tacos. As
long as the vegetarian dishes aren’t too horrible, we can work this out.”

He was a genius.

A goddamned
genius.

My apartment
wasn’t large enough for any real culinary magic, but Nate made it work. I
texted Lindsey to tell her not to worry about the caterers—which, in turn, made
her
freak
about the caterers—then silenced the phone. Nate rummaged
through my kitchen as if he had always belonged there. He twirled a frying pan
by the handle and winked at me.

“We cook the
meat up now, prep the veggies, and I’ll store it in the fridge at the pub. Then
we’ll deliver it on Saturday to the wedding. Ask the caterers to bring extra
warming dishes, and we’re set.”

“I can’t thank
you enough for this.”

“Oh…I don’t know
about that. Sit there and think of all the naughty ways you might repay me.”

I didn’t trust
his smile, but it warmed me up like I sat on the burner. He pre-warmed the pan
for the ground meat and rummaged through my drawers for a spatula.

“You can cook?”
I asked.

“Cook. Brew.
Bake. I’m a one-man kitchen machine.”

“That’s good to
know.”

His arms tensed
as he hauled the meat to the counter. His muscles flexed, and I wanted nothing
more than to touch his ink. “Why’s that?”