Our Love Unhinged (Reluctant Hearts Book 4) (4 page)

I
’ve been putting
this off for months, and Tessa would kill me if she knew I went dress shopping without her—especially when I keep finding excuses when she asks me to go—but I can’t stall anymore. With fifty-nine days—God, only fifty-nine?—until the wedding, I’m still going to have to buy off the rack because there isn’t enough time to order a dress in and have it altered. Luckily, this small mom-and-pop bridal salon I’ve driven by a few times has quite a few dresses to choose from, and they didn’t even blink when I told them I didn’t have an appointment.

Yeah,
luckily
.

I’m not feeling so lucky now as I’m in a too-small dressing room with billowing dresses boxing me in on all sides. Janet, the sales consultant, looked surprised that I came by myself, but she didn’t give me any grief when I said I’d prefer to be in the fitting room alone.

The small, padded bench in the corner calls my name, and I don’t hesitate as I fall onto it, staring at yards and yards of silk, organza, and lace. I don’t even know what kind of dress I want, because I can honestly say it’s nothing I’ve ever thought of before. When most little girls were busy dreaming up their ideal wedding day, I was scrounging for food and dodging my mother’s flavor of the week. And now? After spending the past forty-five minutes strolling through dozens upon dozens of possibilities, to say I’m a little overwhelmed is like saying Lake Michigan is a rain puddle.

This is a day I should’ve been dreaming about sharing with my mom, and here I am, all by myself because I didn’t even want to bother Tessa with it. Truth be told, I didn’t want her to witness me having a breakdown and have her think it had something to do with my relationship with Cade, which couldn’t be further from the truth. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s him . . . us.

Just not
me
.

There’s no one else in the shop now—most people are probably at work at two thirty in the afternoon on a Wednesday—so the silence in here is almost deafening. At least until my ringtone blares. I fumble into my purse and don’t even think before I hit answer, just to get the sound to cease. It’s only after the call is connected that I realize it was Tessa’s face flashing on my screen.

Squeezing my eyes shut and saying a silent prayer that this is short and sweet, I say, “Hello?”

“Hey, girlie. What’s shakin’?”

“Um, not much. Just, um—”

“If you’re going to talk about something technical you’re doing for a site, don’t bother. I don’t have any idea what you’re saying.” Without pausing for my reply, she continues. “Anyway, I set up another appointment for cake testing. Hopefully my brother can force some of these down without grumbling the whole time. I swear, I think we’ve been to nearly every bakery in Michigan. I know he’s a damn good chef, but come
on
, man.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.

“Why are you all quiet?”

“What? I’m—”

“How are the dresses working out for you, honey?” Janet calls through the closed door.

I fumble to mute my phone while I say, “Fine, thanks!” but it’s no use. Tessa definitely heard Janet if her gasp is any indication.

“Winter Jacobson.
Are you wedding dress shopping
right now?
” She spits the question out like a string of four-letter words.

“Umm . . .” There’s no right answer here. If I say no, she’ll call me on it, because it’s obvious that’s exactly what I’m doing. If I say yes, not only will she freak out, but I’ll have to try and explain why I didn’t tell her I was going in the first place.

“Look, lady,” she says in her mom voice, keys jingling in the background. “We’re going to officially be sisters in T-minus eight weeks, so you better start acting like it. Now where are you? I have the afternoon off, and Haley’s got her art club after school. I can be there in ten to twenty.” A door slams, and I imagine she’s already in her car, pulling out of her driveway.

Hanging my head, I close my eyes and rattle off the location of the salon before ending the call. Fifteen minutes later, I’m still in the same place, sitting and staring at miles and miles of fabric, when there’s a knock at the fitting room door.

“You in there?” Tessa asks.

Without answering, I reach over and unlock the latch so she can come in. Her eyes dart to the dresses hanging on the hooks before they settle on my face, and then her lips turn down in the corners. She squats in front of me, blowing the newly blue streak of hair out of her eyes. “What’s up?”

“Just, you know”—I gesture to the dresses—“participating in the second best day in a bride’s life.”

Her eyebrows climb up her forehead. “God, if this is the second best, I’d hate to see the third. You look like you just kicked a kitten.”

I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it’s a few things snowballing.”

Sighing, I drop my hands and look at her. “Yeah?”

With a nod, she starts ticking off on her fingers. “First, I’ve never once seen you in a dress, so I imagine you’re feeling a bit out of your element. Second, these dresses cost money—a
lot
of money—and you hate spending it on yourself. And third—and I’m guessing this is the biggie—you’ve got no one here with you.” She drops her hand and rests it on her knee. “But more than that, you didn’t even think
you could call me to come and be here with you.”

“No, that’s not it at all. I knew if I asked you, you’d come. I just . . .” My shoulders sag as I lean against the hard wall of the fitting room. With a shrug, I say, “I’m a mess, and I knew this would be hard. I didn’t want you to have to deal with me and my mommy issues on top of everything you’re already doing to help with the wedding.”

“Newsflash,” she says, jazz hands flying. “I’ve got mommy issues, too. True, yours was a piece of work and I’m thankful I never had to deal with that, but the bottom line is I don’t have a mom to do this with, either. So that means I’m going to count on you to go with me when the time comes and tell me point blank if I can pull off the dress I want or if it makes me look like a walrus. And whether you like it or not, I’m here to do that for you. So it’s time to suit up.” She moves to stand and plucks the first dress off the hanger, then looks at me with a raised eyebrow, just daring me to challenge her.

Even if I hadn’t been around Tessa enough to know when she’s not messing around, the truth is her little speech is exactly what I need. She doesn’t sugarcoat things or bullshit her way through any issues, and I appreciate it, even if I
am
out of my element. Being here by myself just showcased so many things I’m already self-conscious about and brought to life memories I’d rather keep buried. Even if it would’ve been harder to have her here to witness it from the beginning, I should’ve asked her to come, if for nothing else than to support me when I need it most.

Tessa starts tapping her foot in a silent gesture to hurry the hell up, so I stand and strip down to my bra and underwear, then let her help me into the first of too-many-to-count dresses. And while they’re all pretty, and a handful of them fit me perfectly, none of them give me anything resembling butterflies. But maybe I won’t get them? With the exception of my feelings for Cade, I’m not exactly a butterflies kind of girl.

“Maybe I should just get this one,” I say, tugging out the third dress I tried on. It’s all lace with a long train, which is a little over the top for my tastes—not to mention our small, backyard wedding—but it fit me probably the best of all of them, and I liked it okay.

“Not happening.” Tessa shakes her head and grabs an armful of dresses to take back out to Janet before inching the door open to sneak out without showing everyone my goodies. “Just sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Like I’m going to strut around the store in my underwear.

Tessa’s voice carries into the dressing room, along with Janet’s. All kinds of terms I’ve never once heard of in reference to clothing are mentioned—mermaids and trumpets and chapel trains—and I shift from foot to foot, thumbnail in my mouth as I demolish my cuticle. What seems like a thousand minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.

“It’s me.” Once the door is unlocked, Tessa pokes her head in, dresses still out of view. “Close your eyes and assume the position.”

I roll said eyes first, but then comply, arms raised straight in the air while I wait. The door latches behind her, there’s some rustling, and then cool, smooth material slides over my skin. It
feels
nice, but then again, most of the ones I’ve tried—except for the ball gown that weighed at least thirty-five pounds—felt nice.

“Turn around,” Tessa says, spinning me by the hips until my back is to her. “And keep your eyes closed!” Then she’s hard at work fiddling with something at my lower back, and it takes everything in me not to open my eyes and sneak a glance, especially when she spends nearly ten minutes working on the back of the gown.

“What the hell are you doing back there?”

“Buttons.”

“Like . . . real ones?” All the dresses I’ve tried thus far that had buttons down the back had zipper closures.

“Yes, real ones.”

I think about my fiancé trying to get me out of this dress on our wedding night, his large fingers fumbling with what are no doubt minuscule buttons. “Cade’s going to hate it.”

She laughs as she runs her hands down my sides to smooth the dress and then turns me to face her again. “No, he’s not.” Her voice sounds suspiciously tight, like she’s trying to swallow back tears, but that can’t be right. She’s been as stone-faced as me this entire time.

“Can I open?”

“Yes, but don’t look down. Eyes on me, got it?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” I say and open my eyes. And I was right. Hers are glassy, and we’d already agreed there’d be no crying at this party. I jab a finger at her. “I thought I told you no crying.”

“I’m not crying. I have an eyelash.”

“In both eyes,” I say flatly.

She ignores me and unlatches the door to the fitting room, holding it open for me to exit into the main area where they have a pedestal to stand on and a floor-to-ceiling three-way mirror.

“Don’t you dare look down before you get to the mirror,” Tessa says. “Eyes straight ahead.”

“If I trip and rip this dress, you’re buying it.”

When I get to the pedestal, I reach down without looking and gather up the . . . silk? Satin? And step onto the raised platform, letting the dress drop and lowering my eyes to the mirror in front of me. It takes me a minute to take everything in, from the slim straps to the unobtrusive lace embellishment peeking out of the low, draped neckline to the nearly straight silhouette, flaring just slightly at the bottom where the material pools at my feet. Janet and Tessa stand off to the side, both of them sniffling, but I don’t pay attention to them as I twist around and look at the back of the dress. It plunges to just above the small of my back, satin buttons starting there and trailing all the way to the hem.

It’s . . .

It’s . . .

It’s everything I never knew I wanted
.
Simple, classic, elegant, and sexy with just a touch of femininity.

In a wobbly voice, Tessa says, “She’ll take it,” and I can’t even give her shit for buying my wedding dress when I’ve yet to say a word. I’m too busy picturing what Cade’s face is going to look like when I walk toward him wearing this.

And that’s when the dormant butterflies come to life.

I
t’s
fourteen days before our wedding, and I never thought I’d be this calm. It was like a switch flipped that day in the bridal salon after finding The Dress—something I’d assumed would never happen. I figured I’d be walking down the aisle in whatever white dress I could find that fit remotely well. Instead, I’ll be walking toward Cade in something that makes me feel . . . amazing.

I never thought a
dress
could have that much of an impact on my emotions, but here we are.

It’s the day of our bachelor and bachelorette parties, and Cade and I are watching Haley for a bit while the rest of the group gets things set up—what
things
, I’m not sure, but neither of us mind watching Haley before her babysitter comes to stay the night.

It’s nearing a hundred degrees today, which is going to be super fun for the guys and their evening of camping. Haley’s in the new pool Jason just installed this year. It’s way too fucking big for their yard, but what Haley wants, Haley gets. At least where he’s concerned.

Even though I try to avoid it at all costs, I can’t help but compare Haley and the little girl I used to be. She’s not much younger than I was when my mom left me in that grocery store. It’s surreal and bittersweet to see what a six-year-old’s life
should
be like, instead of the living nightmare that was my childhood. While Tessa worries Jase spoils Haley, I’m just happy she has someone willing to give her everything she wants—a childhood she can remember with fondness rather than disdain.

“You want another beer, baby?” Cade tips his head in the direction of my nearly finished bottle.

“No, I’m okay. The girls will kill me if I get too much of a head start.”

“Have they told you yet where you’re going?”

I shake my head. “All I know is I’m supposed to wear whatever Paige left for me. I’m honestly scared to look.”

“You should be,” he says with a smirk as his eyes rake over me. Nearly a hundred degrees, and my nipples still perk up from his perusal like we’re in sub-zero temps.

Before I can ask him what he means by that, Haley pops her head over the side of the aboveground pool. “Hey, guess what?” she yells, like we’re not three feet away from her.

“What?” Cade and I ask at the same time. He reaches over and rests his hand on the arm of my chair, running his pinky along the sensitive skin at my wrist. Perked up nipples
and
goosebumps, all from a look and a pinky. He’s good.

“We brought my flower girl dress home yesterday! It’s hangin’ up in my closet. Mama said I couldn’t wear it or try it on or even
touch
it, case I had dirty hands. She made me pinky promise.”

I smile at her excitement, which hasn’t waned at all since the day Tessa, Paige, and I took her to find her dress. Her eyes got so wide when we walked into the store to see aisle after aisle of dresses on display, like a kid in a candy store. I had absolutely no preference about what she wore, so when she said she wanted to look just like a ballerina, that’s what she got. I think the skirt of her dress is four times as wide as she is and weighs more than she does.

“I bet you’re going to look very pretty,” Cade says. “Just like a princess.”

“Like a
ballerina
, Uncle Cade.” The duh is implied by her tone. She turns her attention to me. “I might even be as pretty as
you
, Aunt Winter!” The smile she shoots me is as bright as the sun beating down on us. Then she pushes away from the side, going underwater as Cade reminds her to be careful. Haley splashes and Cade says something to me, but all the blood is rushing to my ears, my heart beating too fast, my mouth as dry as the Sahara while my world comes to a grinding, screeching halt.

Aunt
Winter
.

Without blinking an eye or realizing how much it could affect me, Haley made me part of her family with a single word. Part of a family I’ve been searching my whole life to find.

Whether or not I admitted it to myself, that’s exactly what I spent my early years doing. I had the hard exterior to protect myself, but deep down, I wanted to belong. I would’ve given anything to be taken in. To be
wanted
. But then I decided I didn’t need any of it and blocked myself off from everything, building a wall of protection around my heart. A wall Cade managed to knock down with his bare hands.

Since the beginning, he’s been trying to show me that his family is my family, but I still feel this divide. Everyone in Cade’s life has been nothing but accepting and welcoming, but I’m stubborn and self-sufficient, and I just feel like I’m taking and taking because I don’t bring anything to the table. I have nothing else to offer.

It’s just me.

And that’s never been more apparent than when we were addressing invitations and I had exactly one to fill out for my side. Annette is the one and only person I’m inviting—the one and only person I
have
to invite. And even though it’s a small wedding—only a couple dozen guests in total—it’s still a blow to realize only one person is coming just for me.

But now . . . with Haley calling me Aunt Winter, it becomes crystal clear it never mattered that I didn’t view myself as part of their family. It doesn’t matter that I never allowed myself to feel or even
think
that, because everyone else already has been.

And that just makes this all the more real.

This wedding . . . tying Cade to myself for the rest of our lives . . . It isn’t just me who could get hurt if all this goes to shit—if I fail at being part of a family. And, really, what the hell do I know about that? The closest thing I had to a normal family life was when I was thirteen and had been placed with a couple for a year. I overheard them talking about taking the steps to adopt me, make me a permanent fixture in their lives. And then after years of trying in vain, they got pregnant and I got shuffled back to the group home I’d managed to escape for a year.

Family has always had a negative connotation in my mind, and that’s something that’s going to take more than a couple years to erase. It’s no doubt why I’ve resisted putting this amazing group of people into that box that Haley just so casually inserted herself into. It isn’t that I don’t love them, because I do. Every last one of them.

It’s because every single person who I’ve ever considered family has abandoned me, and maybe if I don’t put them in that box, I can keep them a little longer.

* * *

I
’m not
sure what drink I’m on. I lost count about twenty minutes after we arrived. What I
do
know is this bachelorette party couldn’t have come at a better time. After Haley’s declaration this afternoon, I needed some alcohol to quiet the voices in my head and the panic still echoing in my veins. And Paige and Tessa are living up to their bridesmaid duties and getting me full on smashed.

We managed to secure a high top table just off the side of the dance floor. It’s packed in here, too many sweaty bodies moving around, but the alcohol thrumming through my body helps to dull it all. Tessa and Paige are both dancing to the beat of the music pounding through the speakers, and I’m clinging to my drink like a lifeline.

Paige leans over the table toward me, shoving a finger in my direction. “Drink up, girl, because we’ve got more stops!”

“Let’s just stay here,” I say, lifting my glass, the blue liquid sloshing around as I do so. “Their Adios Motherfuckers are on point.”

She slams her hands down on the table, the jolt shaking the liquid in her and Tessa’s glasses, a bit spilling over the rims. “We’re gonna be saying adios to these motherfuckers in about five minutes. I don’t give a shit if they rain money from the ceiling. We’re seeing peen tonight, bitches!”

I groan while Tessa just shakes her head. “You know we have three guys who will happily show us their peens, right?” Her words aren’t slurred, her response clear, even with the overpowering music.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Paige shoots us a sly grin. Then to me, she says, “Besides, you’re kind of mopey tonight, and what better way to get happy than to have junk shaking around in your face?”

I frown and bring the drink to my lips, draining it. Apparently I’m not doing as good a job at hiding as I thought I was. “I’m not mopey . . .”

“You kind of are,” Tessa says with a nod, sipping on her virgin sunrise. She insisted on being DD tonight, and since I planned to get shitfaced, I didn’t put up much of a fight. “What’s up?”

“What?” I yell, cupping a hand around my ear. “I can’t hear you over the music.” I wave my hand in a general all-encompassing movement and almost take out a tray of drinks as a waitress walks past. The truth is, I can hear her just fine, but I am definitely not ready to discuss why I feel like my skin is too tight, like I’m trying to claw my way out. Nope, not going there. Not tonight, not ever.

Maybe if I ignore it, it’ll go away. That’s my motto, and that’s what I’m sticking to.

“But seriously,” Paige says, “you’re mopey, Tessa’s not even drinking. What the hell kind of lame-ass bachelorette party is this?”

“I’ve got a dick on my head, Paige,” I say.

“And?”

“And around my neck.”

She rolls her eyes. “
And
?”

“Just sayin’. This party’s a lot of things, but lame isn’t one.”

Apparently not satisfied the party isn’t lame, she sets her sights on Tessa, narrowing her eyes. “And
you
. You didn’t have to be DD, you know. We could’ve Ubered.”

Tessa shrugs. “I don’t mind. Cheaper this way.”

“Cheaper . . . who the fuck cares? It’s not as fun.”

“
I’m
having fun.” She pushes the button on her penis tiara, making the erect dick light up in a rainbow of flashing colors. “Whoo! Peen!”

Previously completely drunk Paige suddenly gets sharper, her eyes narrowing on Tessa as she points an accusatory finger in her direction. “Something’s not adding up with you.”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s talking about, because I just finished my fifth—seventh? Tenth?—drink, and I lost feeling in my face somewhere around drink three. Still, it takes the pressure off me, so I just lean my elbow on the table and bring my straw to my lips, trying in vain to get some more liquid out of the empty glass while I watch the volley between them.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tessa looks away and clears her throat. She might as well have shifty eyes for all the anxiety her body language is giving off.

“Mhmm, sure you don’t. You’ve been super distracted lately.” Paige slams down her empty glass a little too hard.

“Uh, hello, we’re planning a wedding here,” Tessa says with an eye roll.

“You’ve also taken, like, four sick days in the past month. You never do that.” Paige’s eyes narrow further with every word that comes out of her mouth until she’s basically just squinting at Tessa like a pirate. A drunk pirate.
Arrr
. I snort out a laugh, but Paige ignores me as she holds up a hand and ticks off her fingers. “Super distracted, sick all the time, refusing to drink . . . Did you forget I was there the last time?”

I’m still totally lost, but their interaction is too interesting to ignore, so I bounce my eyes between the two of them as they have their verbal match.

“Last time what, Paige? I was sick?”

“Last time you were
sick
? Are you kidding me? Last time you were
pregnant
, slore!” She yells it so loud, several people around us turn to look our way, but she ignores them and focuses on Tessa’s face, which has turned fourteen shades of pink. Paige stumbles back, then moves right into Tessa’s personal space, their noses inches apart. “Holy shit. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Tessa glances at me, then at Paige. Blowing out a deep breath, she nods. “I’m sorry, Winter. I wanted to wait until after the wedding to announce it. I didn’t want you to feel like I was stealing your thunder.”

My thunder? I shake my head because there are words coming out of their mouths, but I have no idea what any of them mean, least of all what they mean strung together like they were. “I don’t . . . You’re not . . .” I slap my hand on my forehead and put the other one on the table to try and ground myself. This room wasn’t spinning a second ago, and now I feel as if I’m on a merry-go-round. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking ’bout.”