Kiss the Bride (28 page)

“When will you be home?”

“A week from Sunday.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Remember when we were kids, when we were each other’s best friend?”

She swallowed hard. “I remember.”

“I wish we were still friends in that same way.”

“But we are still best friends,” she protested.

“No, we’re not. You have Tish, and I… I have my work,” he said.

Delaney’s heart pounded with hope. “Is there something bothering you, Evan? You sound different somehow.”

“No, no, not at all,” he denied. “Just thinking about how long we’ve known each other and how very much I love you. I do love you deeply, Delaney. You do know that.”

Oh, dear God, the guilt was ripping her apart. “I know.”

“You’re a very special person.”

“Not so special,” she said, fresh pins of guilt pricking her.

“Very special,” he disagreed. “You believed in me when no one else did. My parents didn’t want me to be a doctor, remember? They wanted me to follow Dad into the oil business. You alone encouraged me to follow my dreams. You were the one who told me I’d make the best doctor in the world. You remember that?”

“I remember.”

“I owe my success to you.”

“You don’t. You did all the hard work. I was just your cheering section.”

“And I love you for it. You matter to me. You matter in my life. Being with you makes me happy.”

“Oh, Evan.” She sighed.

They were the magic words. He couldn’t have said anything that would have convinced her more that she was doing the right thing by marrying him.

“I better go,” he said. “Surgery around here starts at five a.m. I just needed to hear your voice, touch base with you. Everything okay there?”

“Fine, just fine.”

“And the wedding plans?”

“Perfect.”

“With your mother handling the arrangements, of course they are. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Delaney whispered.
Even if it’s not in the way you deserve.

But it was going to be okay, she convinced herself. He needed her. She mattered to him. Ultimately, that’s what she needed most. No chemistry, no sparks, not that certain magical something.

Because it was easier for her to pretend that what they had was enough rather than risk her security on the outside chance that she could have it all.

N
ick tried not to think about Delaney while he sat in Evan Van Zandt’s waiting room, but it was like a drowning man trying not to think about oxygen. She was in his brain, in his blood—like a virus he couldn’t shake.

To distract himself he picked up a copy of
Texas Monthly
and leafed through it, only to find an article about high-society summer weddings and there, smiling back at him from her engagement photograph, was Delaney. Evan had his arm around her waist, and they both looked so happy it was all Nick could do to keep from ripping the page out of the magazine and shredding it into a hundred little pieces.

Instead, he tossed the magazine aside, got to his feet, and began to pace. Hell, even if she wasn’t already engaged to his doctor, there was no way he and Delaney could have a future together. She got her picture in
Texas Monthly,
for crying out loud. She was cool, she was rich, and she was beautiful. He was hotheaded, middle class, and scarred in more ways than one.

“Mr. Vinetti,” the nurse called from the doorway. “Dr. Van Zandt will see you now.”

Nick clenched his jaw. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t walk in there, look at Van Zandt’s smiling mug, and not ache to coldcock him for running off to Guatemala and causing this whole mess in the first place.

It’s not his fault, it’s yours. You kissed Delaney when you knew she belonged to someone else. If you get your heart broken, you’re responsible. No one else.

“Mr. Vinetti?” the nurse called again, and he followed her into the back offices.

Five minutes later, Nick was on the examination table, stuck in that damn yellow paper gown again, when Evan Van Zandt strode through the door. He looked tanned and lean and happy. Apparently, Guatemala agreed with him.

Van Zandt plopped down on the rolling stool and scooted over to the exam table. “How’s the leg?”

“Improved.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s have a look.” Van Zandt flipped up the corner of the paper gown and prodded Nick’s knee. “How’s that feel?”

“Doesn’t hurt,” he said. “A little sensitive to pressure, but no real pain.”

“Excellent, excellent, and the swelling is gone. You really took my advice to heart. Nice progress.” Van Zandt nodded, then rolled back over to the counter where he made some notations in Nick’s chart.

Don’t ask him about his trip. Don’t ask about his upcoming wedding. Don’t ask about Delaney. Get your release form and get the hell out of here.

“How was Guatemala?” Nick asked.

“Oh, terrific, wonderful.” Van Zandt put down his pen and an expression came over his face that could only be described as transformational. “I’ve never felt so alive. We were in the wilds of the jungle, doing primitive surgery on
children, most of whom had never even seen Americans. We were changing lives. These kids had horrible deformities, and when we were finished with them they looked normal. Their families were so grateful. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

The way Van Zandt was looking now was the way Nick felt whenever he thought about Delaney. If Van Zandt preferred getting off on his God complex to being with Delaney, in Nick’s opinion, he was seriously delusional.

“There was this one little fella…” And Van Zandt was off, regaling him with the specifics of his trip.

Nick shifted uncomfortably on the table and indulged Van Zandt’s riff for several minutes. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. “What does your fiancée think about all this?”

“Oh, well, you know, I just got in late last night and I was so exhausted, to tell you the truth, I haven’t had a chance to see Delaney.”

“You haven’t seen her since you got back?” Nick couldn’t believe it. If he’d been gone from Delaney for six weeks, he’d immediately run to her house, sweep her into his arms, and make love to her all night long.

“I know, it sounds odd, but she’s busy preparing for the wedding, and I’m busy catching up with my patients, and we’ve known each other since we were little kids. It’s not like the crazy, can’t-get-enough-of-you breathless kind of love that you see in the movies. Ours is a quieter, more mature relationship.”

“Don’t you think you deserve the breathless kind of love?” Nick surprised himself by asking. It was all he could do to keep from smashing his fist into Van Zandt’s clueless face.

Van Zandt looked startled. “But that’s not love. That’s just a romanticized version of lust.”

“Have you ever felt it? That breathless variety.”

Van Zandt moistened his lips. “Well, no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Their gazes met and Nick saw a flick of doubt in Van Zandt’s eyes and it made him feel stronger. “Can I go back to work?”

“What?” Van Zandt blinked.

“You’ll sign my release form? Let me get back to work?”

“Yes, sure.” Van Zandt shook his head. “I’ve got the form right here. A man does need his work.”

A few minutes later, after getting dressed and settling up his bill, Nick found himself on the sidewalk outside the building. The same place where Delaney had first thrown the tarp over him—the release form clutched in his hands.

Scrawled in Van Zandt’s strangely legible hand were the words,
Mr. Vinetti may return to full active duty.

He looked at the form and an arrow of sadness pierced straight into his heart. He’d gotten what he’d come here for. How come he didn’t feel the least bit happy about it?

The packages arrived like swarms of locust. Everyone in Houston, it seemed, was eager to curry favor with the Cartwrights by sending Delaney and Evan wedding gifts.

Now that she no longer had Lucia’s house to worry about and had closed her office until after the honeymoon, Delaney was stuck opening wedding presents and writing thank-you notes. Honey oversaw the operation like General Patton reviewing his troops. Delaney sat at the kitchen table, glumly wielding a calligraphy pen while her mother opened the day’s arrivals.

“That’s the sixth food processor you’ve gotten,” she sniped. “Doesn’t anyone follow the wedding registry?
How difficult is it to go to Neiman’s online and type in your name?”

“It’s okay, Mother,” Delaney said. “I don’t mind exchanging them.”

“I think it’s just inconsiderate.”

“You have to realize not everyone stresses over proper etiquette the way you do.”

“Etiquette? I’m talking common courtesy.”

Delaney sighed. “Just let it go.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let it go, Mother. Stop trying to control everything.”

“I’m not. I just think it’s—”

“You are.”

Honey drew herself up. “Well, what’s wrong with trying to control things in order to have the best outcome?”

“It’s my wedding. I should have some say in it.”

Honey sat down beside her and reached out and took her hand. “I just want this to be the most perfect wedding ever. You deserve it. I can’t tell you how much it means to me and your father. We love Evan so much. And you know how I’ve dreamed of this day. Especially since I never got to do this for Skylar.”

Her mother’s eyes misted with tears, and she fumbled in the pocket of her linen suit for a crisply starched and pressed monogrammed handkerchief. She dabbed carefully at the corners of her eyes, taking care not to smear her makeup. “How I wish your sister could be here for this celebration.”

Seeing her normally composed mother tear up wrenched Delaney’s stomach. In a flash, she was thrown back seventeen years to the day when they first heard the news that Skylar had been killed. It was the first time she’d ever seen her mother fracture, cracking like an egg, collapsing sobbing onto the floor.

Delaney had vowed then and there to do everything in her power to make everything all right. To do what it took to be the perfect child, to make her mother smile again. She packed down her anger, packed down her own desires, and devoted her life to being good. Her mother had taught her it was not okay to assert herself, and she’d lifted the lesson to virtuoso status.

The defense mechanism had served her well.

Following her mother’s advice had transformed her from a chubby, unattractive, socially awkward child into a thin, pretty woman with lots of friends. But now, as she stood on the verge of marrying Evan and entering a life not of her own making, Delaney couldn’t help feeling it had crippled her too.

All these years, what she longed to hear was that her presence mattered. That she was as important to her mother as Skylar had been.

But she’d never heard it.

Instead all she’d heard was that it was not okay to be who she really was, to assert herself.

Her mother put the handkerchief away and forced a bright smile. “Enough regrets. Since the other bakery we were using inconveniently went out of business on us, Sunshine Bakery graciously agreed to stand in at the last minute. They just e-mailed a picture of the cake they’ve specially designed for you based on the specifications I sent them. I think you’re going to love it.” Honey reached inside the portfolio she carried stuffed with wedding details and passed her the computer printout. “The other bakery’s going out of business turned out to be a blessing in disguise.”

Disappointment stole over her as she studied it. Delaney had wanted a traditional wedding cake with lots of tiers and roses and beading made of frosting.

This three-tiered cake was simple, sleek, and smooth. While it was stylish, it had no personality, no heart.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Honey looked at her expectantly. Delaney knew what she was supposed to say; she was supposed to echo “Perfect.”

But her success with Lucia’s house gave her courage. She moistened her lips and met Honey’s eyes. “Mother, I’m not sure this is the right one for me.”

“Of course it’s the right one. I know you think the wedding cake is a bit plain, but darling, it’s simple and elegant. All those colored flowers and excess layers and cream frosting you wanted looked so trailer park.”

“I’m not speaking of the cake.”

“No?” Honey tilted her head. “Is there something else you wanted to weigh in on?”

For years her mother had been able to quell her with a single look that said,
I’m disappointed in you.
Delaney saw the awakening of that look now. One wrong word, and Honey’s face would shift into full-blown disapproval.

“The wedding…” Delaney swallowed.
Come on. You can do this. Tell her the truth. Tell her you’re not sure you’re really ready to get married.

“Yes?” Honey crossed her arms over her chest, warning her with her change in body language.