How to Lose a Groom in 10 Days (2 page)

“Can you sign my shirt, mister?” a tall, lanky kid with a scratchy voice asked from behind his left shoulder, already pulling off his tee.

“I saw you hit that humdinger at Stars Stadium against the Aces,” someone else shouted from a few steps away—a heavyset guy with a briefcase under his arm and a coffee in one hand. “Do you remember that one? It went right over their centerfielder’s head at the wall.”

“You’re really a baseball player, young man?” a grandmotherly type with steel-gray hair asked from his right, her weathered hand landing on his suit sleeve and preventing him from taking another step. “We root for the New York team in my house, but I’ll bet my grandson would love to hear how I met a real baseball player.”

The woman dug in a purse, presumably for a pen, while hats, papers and hands came at him from all sides, pressing him closer to the railing, pinning him onto the staircase with a gridlock of people. Damn it. Melanie wouldn’t just leave him here, would she?

He grabbed a pen and a hat and started autographing things, making small talk on autopilot. He had no flipping clue what had happened back in the Wedding Room. Melanie had spent the night before at her parents’ place even though they’d been living together for weeks. He hadn’t thought twice about it, figuring all brides were superstitious about not seeing the groom on the day of the wedding until the ceremony. Totally normal, right?

Except maybe she had looked jittery during the ceremony. Fidgety. Breathing fast. But he’d figured all that was par for the course with brides. She knew he was crazy about her. What had gotten into her?

“Whatcha all dressed up for?” a teen with a pierced nose asked while she chomped on a piece of gum. “Traffic court? My mom said they don’t care what you wear.”

Grady kept signing and shuffled down a step as the dad with two little kids moved away. On a good day, Grady could sign autographs for a long time, grateful to work in his dream job and all too aware he was a lucky man. But right now, he needed to get to Melanie.

“Just watching a buddy tie the knot,” he hedged, determined to keep his nuptials secret or he’d never get out of the building.

“Oh my God!” the girl squealed and so did ten other nearby women.

The noise level in the throng around him kicked up a few decibels. And a few octaves.

“Was it that nice Boone Sullivan?” The gray-haired granny next to him asked about the Stars third baseman, still clutching his arm while fans crowded them both. “He’s supposed to marry a reality show actress.”

“It wasn’t anyone on the team,” Grady rushed to explain. His teammates were going to string him up by his cleats for starting rumors. “But I’d better catch up to the wedding party now.”

He signed the grandmother’s coffee shop napkin that she’d found in her bottomless purse and gently disengaged himself. The crowd pressed closer, sensing they were losing him.

“Just one more!” a handful of people shouted in unison.

Instead, he dug his phone out of his pocket and held it up as he kept edging down the steps.

“Sorry. My friends are wondering where I disappeared to,” he lied, knowing there were no messages waiting for him since the device hadn’t vibrated in the last ten minutes. “I’d better get back to them.”

“Only three days until the regular season starts, folks!” an old-timer called from the back of the group. “Better let this boy get on his way so he can pack his things and get to Atlanta.”

Grady waved his thanks at the older man who balanced with the help of a cane.

“That’s true, sir.” He had a special place in his heart for the savvy fans who knew more about baseball than him. Some of the volunteers at the Orlando spring training facility had seen more baseball greats come and go than Grady would ever meet. “I’ve got a lot to do before the trip north.”

Some of the people eased back, giving him enough room to make it to the bottom of the steps.

“Good luck, son,” the older man called. “Travel safe.”

The well wishes were echoed by a dozen other people before Grady broke free and arrived at the glass doors. He sprinted out to the parking lot, not giving anyone else time to recognize him. He scanned the area, remembering where he’d seen Melanie’s economical four-cylinder Honda earlier. He’d parked one row behind her.

Only now, he spotted his truck easily enough. Her silver compact was nowhere in sight.

“Damn it.” He cursed a whole lot more as he punched in her number, wishing he could have found a way to break free of the fans faster. Had she waited for him long?

“Hi, this is Melanie…” Her voice mail picked up after four rings.

Really?

She hadn’t just ditched him after the wedding. Now she wasn’t answering his calls?

He’d never been so confused. Opening the driver’s side door of his truck he slid into the front seat and tried calling again. And again.

No answer.

What was it she’d said before she left?
You deserve so much more.

What did that even mean? From the first moment he’d laid eyes on Melanie Webb, all he wanted was her. He came from a driven family of competitive athletes where winning was prized at all costs. Melanie’s playful spirit and easygoing demeanor were like breathing fresh air.

Being with her made him feel—maybe for the first time ever—like he didn’t have the weight of the world’s expectations sitting on his chest every second of every day. With her, he could have fun. Not only did he love her something fierce, he wasn’t sure he could face the regular season without her in his life.

After his fifth phone call went unanswered, he switched screens on his phone and started texting.

I love you.
Without waiting for an answer, he kept typing and sent another message.

Please talk to me.

Outside his truck windshield, the commuter traffic had slowed. The parking lot was full but quiet. Still.

He waited. And waited.

It was worse than watching one of those slow pitchers work the late innings in a tie game. Time crawled by.

They’d just
married
for crying out loud. How could she—

His cell phone chimed. There was a message from “The Mrs.,” a title Melanie had given herself when she’d messed around on his phone two days before. The same day she’d changed her ringtone to “Going to the Chapel.” She’d had so much fun with the wedding, never once complaining about the quick ceremony or the lack of planning time the way most women would.

This was a mistake
.

The words sucked the air out of his lungs. He squinted down at them like he’d read them wrong. But no… his wife had just told him she regretted marrying him less than an hour after the fact.

Obviously, she didn’t know him as well as he thought she did. Because Grady Hollis didn’t give up on anything. It made him a great ballplayer and sometimes, a truly stubborn ass. He hoped one day it would make him a great husband too.

For right now though, he remembered that while Melanie had been playing with his phone, he’d gotten to play with hers too. Would she remember the app he’d asked her if he could download?

The Family Finder was a GPS link to loved ones. She would always know where he was and vice versa. He’d wanted it on her phone so she’d always know he was safe in his hotel for the night and not hanging out at strip clubs when the team travelled.

But right now? The app served a bonus double duty and told Grady exactly where to find his missing wife.

‡

A
lone in the
back parking lot of a rest area off the Florida Turnpike, Melanie swiped a tear off her phone.

It had seemed cruel to keep ignoring Grady’s calls, but she was in no position to talk coherently. After leaving the Orange County courthouse she’d jumped in the car and started driving. She’d chosen the Turnpike to put distance between her and what she’d just done. But she had no idea where she was going. She’d pulled over into a rest stop when Grady’s texts had started coming in so she could read them and reply.

Now, she unbuckled her seatbelt so she could pull on a sweater over the clearance sale dress that had nearly sucked the life out of her back at the courthouse. The cinching bodice had eased a little once the hyperventilating stopped, but she’d also cheated and edged the zipper down a few inches to give herself some room.

Outside her car, a man walked with a small dog on a leash. Melanie double-checked that her doors were locked even though there were others at the rest stop. She might be having a breakdown, but she had her wits about her enough to keep an eye on her surroundings. Keep herself safe.

Or at least, she managed to protect her
physical
safety. She hadn’t been smart enough to protect her heart from a certain charming athlete with a killer smile. Hadn’t her mother told her she’d better be careful of the ballplayers? That had been back when she’d taken her first part time job at another spring training facility when she was just twenty years old. She hadn’t had the time or the finances to go to college with her father’s restaurant teetering on bankruptcy and her mom’s drinking escalating. So Melanie had waitressed for her dad, helped keep an eye on her mom and picked away at an online degree that—God willing—she’d finally receive at the end of this summer.

Her father had been a promising college athlete once, so her mom understood the appeal. They were a baseball family, after all. Die-hard fans. But shoulder surgery had sidelined Melanie’s father and he’d spent years circling through farm teams without ever making a big league roster again. He’d taken it hard, but he’d recovered. Melanie’s mom, on the other hand? Still bitter.

Was it any wonder she hadn’t told her parents about Grady? It would be a drama worthy of a Jerry Springer episode. Her cell phone dinged from a drink holder, the charger connected. She scooped it up.

Our marriage was NOT a mistake.
A second message arrived on her phone with a cheerful chime.
We need 2 talk.

Talk? She wasn’t sure she could even string together coherent thoughts much less speak.

Hell, she wasn’t even sure where she was. She’d just driven. She looked around the rest stop outside her windshield but didn’t see any tips. Just the standard brick bathrooms. Vending machines. And picnic tables.

Her eyes went to the GPS that Grady had bought for her twenty-sixth birthday. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was telling her about her location, but then she hadn’t read the manual. What made him think she’d ever be able to handle life as a major league player’s wife when she couldn’t even navigate her way around her home state? She’d been too busy crying her eyes out to notice the signs along the highway.

She still couldn’t believe he’d really wanted to marry her. He
had
married her, for crying out loud. Who did that?

As she felt around the console for her box of tissues, her eyes fell to the floral bouquet on the passenger seat. The whole car smelled like peonies. She dabbed her eyes and picked up her phone again.

Don’t worry about me
, she typed with shaking fingers. She needed to show Grady that he was wrong about her. About marriage.
Go to Atlanta and settle in your new place.

He’d needed a moving service to transport his things to Atlanta ahead of them. She’d been able to fit half of her stuff in the trunk and back seat of her dinky car, a sad testament to how little she owned. How vastly their lifestyles differed.

She didn’t just have cold feet. She was frozen all the way through.

Her phone chimed again.

I’m not leaving town without you
, his next text informed her.
We chose that house together.

Right. And since he’d been in Atlanta sending her pictures of houses as he drove around town with a realtor, he had missed the almost-panic attack she’d had then too. But back then, a whole month ago, she hadn’t even been thinking about those homes as a place for
them
as a couple. Marriage hadn’t even entered her head four weeks prior. She’d just been helping him choose a cool place to live because he was a hot guy and she’d been wild about him.

Knowing that he would move on without her in a kick-butt home in Atlanta while she stayed behind in Kissimmee had hurt at the time, but at least it had seemed… imminent.

To get married instead? Total ill-advised craziness. She’d figured it was just another fun adventure like when they danced in the rain on the ball field one night after the rest of the team went home. Or like the time she’d dared him to see how far he could launch a ball she pitched to him and he’d broken his neighbor’s window. It had just been fun. Goofy. A spring training romance with an expiration date.

The phone was heavy in her hand as she typed.

I chose the house for you
, she reminded him in her next text.

She’d used a lifetime of knowledge about travelling ball-players and steered him toward a place equidistant from the stadium downtown and the private airfield used by the team. The neighborhood was appropriately affluent to give him privacy but not so stuffy that he couldn’t have a big backyard barbecue with some of the rowdier teammates. It had a guest house in case his parents wanted to visit him and three garages since she’d never known a major leaguer who was content with just one vehicle.