Love Takes the Cake (11 page)

“I believe you.” The whispered words had barely left her lips before he covered them with his own. He kissed her deeply, erasing any further doubts.

Then he pulled away. “Are you sure? Last chance to change your mind.” He grinned, as if he knew there wasn't a chance at all.

“I'm sure.” They kissed again, slower this time, until Charlotte's insides melted like the hot chocolate in her brownie batter.

She turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against his. “I'm sorry I doubted you.”

“Everyone heals in their own way, in their own timing.” Will rested his forehead against hers before dropping a kiss against her nose. “Though I have to say, I'm glad it didn't take you any longer.”

She swatted him with her oven mitt, then pulled him back for another kiss. “I thought I wanted safe.”

“And I'm not?”

She smoothed the front of his shirt. “Safe is a bow tie. And suspenders.”

Will tilted his head as he considered her. “So, safe to you is an elderly banker?”

“No!” She swatted him again and laughed. “That's what I always joke with Julie about. Bow tie and suspenders is my metaphor for some safe, predictable nerd. The opposite of a ladies' man.” She hesitated. “Someone who won't leave.”

“I get it. But safe can be way overrated.” He gestured around them at the bakery. “You probably see it all the time. You know when married couples cut their cake and feed each other at the reception?”

Charlotte blinked at him. “I have no idea where you're going with this.”

“Safe is feeding each other wedding cake, nice and polite and without a mess and passing napkins afterward.”

He had a point. It sounded . . . a little boring, to be honest. Picture-perfect. Not entirely real.

He grinned down at her. “Wouldn't you rather have someone who smears icing on your face—” His finger gently trailed the length of her cheek. “And then gently kisses it off?”

She drew a ragged breath at his proximity. That actually sounded amazing. Maybe she'd had it wrong all this time. Maybe God hadn't sent her what she wanted because it hadn't been what she and Zoe needed at all.

“See? Safety is vastly overrated.” He grinned and pulled her in for a tight hug. “Then again, for the record, I could probably rock a bow tie if I had to.”

“But that's the best part.” She smiled up at him, trusting fully for the first time in a long time—maybe ever. “You don't have to.”

“That might have been the most awkward toast in the history
of toasts.” Will leaned close to whisper in Charlotte's ear.

She giggled, nudging him with her elbow. “Shh. They'll hear you.”

They'd suffered through several wedding speeches so far at Adam and Brittany's rehearsal dinner, each one worse than the last. And he'd kept her laughing through all of them.

“I mean, come on. Pass the butter. That toast was
dry
.”

Charlotte snorted, and elbowed him harder in the ribs, the sudden motion clanking her used silverware against her discarded plate. The man at the table opposite them shot an amused glance over his shoulder, and Charlotte immediately blushed.

They needed to quit acting juvenile. But Will couldn't help it. He loved the sound of her laughter. And before their big talk last Sunday in the bakery, he wasn't sure if
he'd ever get to provoke it again. He wanted to hear it while he could, and never take it for granted.

The mother of the bride took the platform for her turn, and Will tried to tune her out so he wouldn't be tempted to tease again.

He pressed a kiss against Charlotte's hair instead, glad she had been able to accompany him tonight, and happier still that Julie was able to babysit Zoe and give her the chance to come. They really should do something special for her friend as a thank-you. She'd even helped deliver the desserts earlier, before whisking Zoe back to their apartment for a promised game of Chutes and Ladders. Maybe he'd pick up a gift card, or ask Melissa to make one of those crafty signs for her that she occasionally sold online.

Charlotte's marshmallow caramel apple cupcakes, each perched in a slow-rotating miniature Ferris Wheel, had earned an entire table over on the side of the banquet room. She'd thrown in some of her favorite double-chip brownies for the chocolate lovers as a last-minute addition—a side effect of her good mood the last few days.

A few last-minute wedding gifts filled another table. Will shook his head. At this rate, Adam and Brittany would be set with appliances, gift cards, and kitchen towels until their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Did newly married couples really need that much stuff?

Eloping was starting to look pretty good.

He slid his arm around the back of Charlotte's chair. Make that
really
good.

Brittany's mother finished her speech, blinking back tears as she expressed her joy over the upcoming ceremony.
That was sweet. Sounded like something his mom might have said at Melissa's rehearsal—had either of them been able to make it. He sobered, hating how the past seemed to constantly rear its head during moments like this—moments he should be able to just enjoy.

He shoved away the familiar guilt and clapped along with the others as Brittany's mom left the platform with instructions for everyone to hit the dessert table. He stood, pulling Charlotte's chair back for her, just as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

He motioned for Charlotte to get in line ahead of him, then checked the caller ID. Melissa. That was strange—she knew he was at the rehearsal tonight. Maybe she hadn't meant to call. But no, now that he looked at his screen, she'd already tried calling three other times while it had been set on silent.

His heart stammered. He quickly stepped in line behind Charlotte and jabbed the accept button, plugging one ear with his free hand as the volume in the room increased with laughter and exclamations over the desserts. “Melissa? I can barely hear you.”

“Will.” Her voice, weaker than usual, registered faintly through the phone speaker. “I need help. I fell.”

Charlotte had no idea what had happened. She just knew there was no way Will could be driving the speed limit.

She watched the muscle in his jaw clench and unclench, watched his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel,
watched the agitated way he kept checking his rearview mirror as if daring a policeman to try and slow him down. “Is—is she okay?”

All she knew was they'd been standing in line to get a cupcake, when he'd grabbed her arm, said, “Melissa's in trouble, we've got to go,” and ushered her out of the banquet room. It was the first time since she'd known him that he hadn't opened the truck door for her.

He had barely given her time to climb in before he gunned it across the parking lot.

He either hadn't heard her question or was ignoring her. She decided—for once—not to assume the worst, and repeated it. “Will? Is she okay?”

“I don't know.” He bit the words off sharper than he probably meant to, but he didn't apologize.

“What happened?”

“Don't know that either.”

Not a very productive phone call, then. Charlotte swallowed back her defensiveness and took a deep breath to attempt to calm her own nerves, reacting to his. He was obviously under a lot of stress and worried about his sister. She could forgive the lapse of manners.

And forget the questions. Guess she'd find out on the scene—wherever that was.

His truck screeched into the driveway of a small but cozy-looking yellow house. A wooden ramp climbed one side of the porch, concrete stairs laced in ivy on the other. A tiny picket fence lined the majority of the yard. He skidded to a stop and had his door open before the keys were even out of the ignition.

Charlotte hurried to catch up as he rushed toward the front door to what she presumed was Melissa's house.

“Mel!” he bellowed, rattling the knob. “Mel! It's me. Can you open the door?”

Charlotte's heart rate kicked up a notch. What was going on? Had Melissa hurt herself? Had an accident? If so, why had she called Will and not 911? She didn't understand.

“MEL!”

“It's locked.” Her voice, tiny and exhausted, finally sounded from inside. She said something else Charlotte couldn't catch, and she raised her eyebrows at Will. He shook his head, having missed it too. He looked ready to kick the door down.

“Do you have a key?”

“Yeah, somewhere.” He searched through his key ring, fingers shaking. “I never have to use it. She's always home and has it unlocked when I come.” Judging by the trembling of his hands, he seemed full of enough adrenaline that Charlotte wondered if maybe he
should
kick in the door, just to release it.

He fumbled the keys twice, then dropped them. Charlotte took them from his unsteady hands. “Which one?”

“The red plated.”

She quickly inserted it into the lock and he wrenched the door open. “Mel! Where are you?”

“Kitchen.”

Charlotte followed him around the corner, through a cheerful living area decorated in aqua and coral. Melissa had good taste. She stopped short before she plowed into Will's back.

“Oh, Mel.” This time, his voice sounded broken, more than angry or panicked. Then he rushed to her side, providing Charlotte her first view of Melissa, sprawled on the wooden floor. Petite, dark-haired, freckle-faced Melissa.

And the wheelchair on its side halfway across the kitchen.

“What happened?” Will's hands hovered over her body, as if he wanted to help but wasn't sure where to start.

“Don't even ask.” She sounded more agitated than hurt. Clearly, the apple didn't fall far from the Martin tree.

Melissa met Charlotte's eyes and found a smile. “We meet at last. Didn't expect it to be like this.”

“Me either. Can I help?” Charlotte stood near the kitchen door, afraid to get in the way.

“No, we've done this before, unfortunately.” Melissa winced as she attempted to move. “Just straighten my leg out for me, Will.”

He obliged, carefully. “Nothing broken?”

“How would I know?”

“Very funny.”

“I'm fine, Will. Was trapped, is all. I'm just glad my cell was in my pocket.”

Slowly he straightened her other leg. “Where's the ambulance?”

Melissa motioned for Charlotte to bring her wheelchair closer. “I didn't call them.”

“You
what
?”

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. Charlotte slipped into the kitchen and pushed the wheelchair toward them, remembering to lock the wheels before she parked it.

Will's big-brother mode was nearing dangerous levels. “Melissa. You told me you called them already.”

“A little white lie. I knew you'd overreact.” She brushed her hair back from her face, wincing a little as Will lifted her into her chair. “I don't need them, I'm fine. It just scared me when I fell. I didn't mean to ruin your night.”

“Ruin my—are you kidding me?” Will stood upright, raking his hands through his hair. “This is madness. I
knew
you shouldn't live alone.”

Charlotte backed slowly across the kitchen as the facts began to snap into place. His close relationship with his sister. His doting on her, the weekly cookies, the sense of responsibility. His putting his life on hold for years. Melissa was handicapped, and for some reason, he'd taken that burden upon himself.

Melissa's phone call made sense now. The last thing Melissa said before Will had interrupted them the other day in the bakery was,
Will hasn't told you?

No, he hadn't.

The question was—why?

“Will, listen to yourself. What are my options? A group home? I'm fully capable of taking care of myself. You've renovated this entire house to be wheelchair friendly.” She grinned. “Just apparently not that particular spot.”