My Best Friend's Bride (29 page)

“Lucky me, I hope?” Abrams stood and held out his hand. “Say you’ll come back, Hunter. Nothing here has been the same without you.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jill didn’t know how it was March already. She’d been so busy working on her book project with Morgan, the past three months had flown by. Morgan loved the revised manuscript and Owen had also given it his stamp of approval. He’d gotten it fast-tracked at a small but reputable press that was eager to build its list by adding known celebrity Jillian Jamison to its cadre of authors. Jill heard the delivery truck in the drive and raced to the door, her heart pounding. It was just what she’d been expecting! Her box of advance copies! She dragged the box into the house, but Fifi and Mimi stubbornly stayed on the porch.
 

They still went out there each night at six, no matter the kind of weather. Fifi would lie there listlessly, watching the road, a tennis ball positioned between her paws, while Mimi nervously paced along the railing. Jill had tried to tell them Hunter was gone for good, but they were only pets, so limited in their understanding.

The fact that Hunter hadn’t tried to contact Jill clearly revealed that things were over. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he formally filed for divorce? Perhaps it was for the same reason Jill hadn’t: She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Filing divorce papers would dredge so many things up again, many of them painful. Plus, it would take time. And time was a commodity Jill had been short on lately. She’d been working so hard on the book, she’d scarcely had the opportunity to eat well or exercise. It wasn’t like in the summer and fall, when she’d had someone cooking for her. Jill tried not to remember the good times with Hunter, because that made things so much harder. It was easier to hold on to the anger and the hurt, and his horrible abandonment that had come at the end. That way, Jill could convince herself she was better off without him.

Jill grabbed a pair of scissors from the coffee table and cut into the newly delivered box. What a feeling it was to pick up
Married Love: Lessons Learned
and hold it in her hands. She ran her fingers across the glossy dust jacket, flipping it over to study her author photograph on the back. Hunter’s earlier question came back to her:
A relationship expert. How’s that working out for you?
“Probably a lot better than it used to,” Jill said aloud. It was true and she knew it. She was a much better informed writer now, because her understanding of real relationships had deepened. It was one thing to study them from the outside, but quite another to be in the thick of one. Jill thumbed through the pages of her book, noting chapter heading after chapter heading, and it was impossible not to think of Hunter. “A recipe for love” was his idea. In a very real sense, this book never could have been written without him. No matter what Hunter thought of her now, Jill decided she ought to let him know that. It was the right thing to do, and would perhaps bring some closure between them. So Jill picked up a pen and inscribed a copy of her book. Tomorrow, she’d mail it to Hunter.

Hunter sat across from Mr. Jamison in the courtyard of Green Meadows, where spring flowers were blooming. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to come around,” Jill’s grandpa said. “I’m an old man. It’s good you didn’t waste any more time.”

“I suppose I was embarrassed, sir.” Hunter set his jaw. “But I do want to apologize.”

“And well you should. You’ve been out of the picture forever.”

“I’ve been working on things.”

“Like what?”

“Getting back on my feet, becoming established.”

“Are you still with that company?”

“I’m working as a partner there, yes.”

“That’s something, anyhow.” Mr. Jamison surveyed him up and down. “Isn’t there another reason you stopped by?”

“There is, sir.” Hunter slapped his copy of
Married Love: Lessons Learned
against his knee. “This is Jill’s new book. Have you read it?”

Mr. Jamison’s cheeks sagged. “I’m afraid I’m not much for reading these days. Things don’t seem to stay with me.” He reached for the book and Hunter passed it to him. “It’s a very handsome edition,” Jill’s grandpa said, turning it over in his hands. He thumped his index finger against Jill’s author photo. “Isn’t she a sight?”

“A very beautiful one,” Hunter answered.

Mr. Jamison perused the book’s front cover. “
Married Love: Lessons Learned
.” He handed it back to Hunter. “Why don’t you tell me what it’s about?”

“All the things that make a successful marriage.” Hunter released a deep breath. “I’d seen an earlier version, but this one’s a little different.”

“How so?”

“There’s a section at the end on deciding whether a relationship is worth keeping.”

“My goodness, that sounds clinical.”

“It is written in checklist form, but things aren’t that cut and dried. I’d guess they’re more questions for reflection and discussion—between troubled couples.”

“I see.”

“The truth is, when I read it, sir . . .” Hunter hung his head. “I couldn’t help but think of me and Jill, and about how good things were between us.”

Mr. Jamison spoke with authority. “You and my granddaughter made a fine pair.”

Hunter raised his chin. “I agree.”

“Then you go and find Jill. Tell her what you just told me.”

“I would, but I’m worried it might be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Hunter cracked open the book to Jill’s inscription. “Jill dedicated this advance copy to me, but in a way I think she was saying she’s moved on.”

“Why don’t you read what she wrote and I’ll give my opinion?”

Hunter dropped his eyes to the page. “
Thanks for the inspiration and for the memories. It was all real to me.
Then she dated it and signed,
Jill.
”

“That sounds very nice. I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

“She thanked me for the ‘memories,’ Mr. Jamison. Jill is saying good-bye.”

“Poppycock!” Jamison burst out. “That’s simply woman-speak for ‘Here I am, come and get me’!”

“Sir?”

“You
inspired her
. The two of you made memories together. Plus, she says it was for real. That marriage was no more fake for Jill than it was for you. Admit it, Hunter. You fell in love with my granddaughter.”

“I won’t lie to you, Mr. Jamison. It’s true.”

“Did you tell her?”

“Not in so many words.”

Jamison slapped his palm against his forehead. Not once, but twice. He met Hunter’s eyes with a challenge. “What are you waiting for?”

Hunter swallowed hard. “I’m not sure she’ll have me.”

“Well, you’ll never know until you try, will you? Listen, Hunter, I might not be clear on every single detail all the time, but I know who you are. You’re the man who loves my granddaughter. From the look on your face, I’d say you love her very much. From my point of view, Jill just opened a door. You’re the only one who can decide if you’re going to walk through it.”

Hunter got to his feet, clutching Jill’s book to his side. Emotion cloaked his voice as he spoke. “Thanks for taking time to see me, Mr. Jamison, and for your advice.”

Jill’s grandpa took his hand and shook it firmly. “I hope you’ll take it.”

As Hunter walked away, Mr. Jamison called after him. “And boy!”

Hunter slowly turned to face him.

“Don’t make yourself a stranger around here.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Morgan sat beside Owen on a lounge chair, sipping a drink with a tiny paper umbrella poking out of it. They were under a thatch-roofed umbrella, both wearing swimsuits and sunglasses. “I’m so glad you suggested this getaway,” Morgan said. “After being a publicity machine these past few months, I’m beat.”

“I know,” Owen said. “And now’s a good time for a break: while the advance copies are out to reviewers and before Jill’s book tour starts.”

Morgan tried to resist a peek at her tablet, but Owen caught her gaze wandering. “Go on,” he urged. “Take a look. I’ll bet some reviews are in already.”

“You’re such a great guy,” she said, fawning over him.

“I’m curious too.”

Morgan set down her drink and eagerly scanned through her bookmarks. “Holy moly!” she cried. “Five stars is good!”

“Can’t beat that,” Owen agreed.

She excitedly covered her mouth, then pointed at the screen. “Oh, look! Here’s another.
Jill Jamison speaks with passion and authority on a topic many couples will find very close to home.
”

“Excellent.” Owen flagged down the waiter and motioned for him to freshen their drinks.
 

“And another… Married Love: Lessons Learned
is Jamison’s tour de force. Never before has an author written with such insight and sensitivity on the challenging subject of marriage.
And there are more! All fabulous!”

“That’s terrific so many have been posted already.”

Morgan lowered her shades and stared at him. “We owe a lot of this to you.”

“No, I think we owe most of it to Jill. The remaining fifteen percent,” he said, making a joke about her commission rate, “is yours.”

Morgan laughed and accepted the new drink the waiter brought her. “The service here is fantastic,” she whispered to Owen. “Have you noticed? No one has to say anything, and a new drink appears in your hand!”

Owen shot her a rugged smile. “Just like magic.”

He was so thoughtful and charming, and absolutely excellent at what he did. Plus, he was drop-dead gorgeous, making it pretty hard for Morgan to keep her hands off his rock-hard chest. But she would. At least, as long as they were in public. “I heard through the grapevine that Cassandra left
Tempo Beat
. She’s now writing fiction.”

“Really? How fascinating.”
 

Owen seemed to
love
hearing all the gossipy details about Sugar Hollow. Then again, his sister had grown up there and had filled him in on most of its people.

“And,” Morgan continued, “…she’s got a boyfriend.”

“Well, good for her. Who is it?”

“I forget. Someone named after a color.”

He chuckled in surprise. “Mauve?”

“Yes, Mauve! Who would name a child that?”

Owen quirked a smile. “I hear he’s got a sister named Indigo.”

“Noooo.”

Owen waved down a towel boy behind her, pointing above their heads. The lad instantly arrived to adjust their covering to keep them in the shade. Morgan turned her palms up in astonishment. “This place is amazing. They anticipate your every need!”

Owen smiled and lifted his drink. “Did I mention Susan’s getting married?”

“To Brad!” Morgan gave a happy sigh. “At last!”

“I hope you’ll consider being my date to the wedding?”

“I won’t have to consider it long,” she chirped. “The answer is yes.”

Owen paused, then asked her, “Morgan, what do you think will become of Hunter and Jill?”

Morgan contemplated the ocean a long time and sipped through her straw. After a while, she sighed and said, “Honest to goodness, Owen? I just don’t know.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jill was busy in the kitchen when she heard Fifi barking maniacally. She raced into the living room to see what had happened, and found Mimi crazily scratching the door. He leapt repeatedly at the knob, attempting to snatch it in his claws. Fifi
woofed
again, shaking her head and crouching low, the front half of her body near the floor, her big yellow tail pointed straight toward the ceiling. It whipped back and forth and back and forth, like a gigantic wiper blade. Watching it almost made Jill dizzy. What on earth was going on?

A few seconds later, Jill heard tires crunch on the gravel drive and she peered out the window. The earth stopped turning and time stood still.
Hunter.
 

Hunter stepped from his SUV, his heart pounding. In all the presentations he’d made, he’d never had this much on the line. Hunter had thought he’d wanted things before, and had been driven to achieve goals. But there was nothing more important to him at this moment than Jill Jamison remaining his wife. He’d attempted to put thoughts of her out of his mind and pour himself into his work, but he’d been unsuccessful. Each night when Hunter went to bed, he’d been bombarded by images of her sweet face: the way her pretty eyes reflected the sunlight and how her whole face lit up when she smiled. The mornings were even worse. There was no substitute for waking up beside Jill, her gentle perfume filling the air. Hunter needed her with a quiet desperation that upended his world, sending rational thoughts topsy-turvy when all he could think of was holding her in his arms. Not just for today, or for tomorrow, but for as long as their lives endured.
 

Jill’s knees shook and her hand trembled as she opened the door. The animals shot toward Hunter like bullets, Fifi reaching him first. The dog whined and whimpered, puppy-cried and yapped, dancing in happy circles, then suddenly she found a ball and snatched it up in her mouth. She turned toward Hunter and obediently sat at his feet, dropping her offering. Hunter laughed and bent to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Well, hey there, Sport!” He grabbed the ball and threw it long as Mimi came up to greet him, mewing loudly and winding himself around Hunter’s legs. “Don’t worry, Mimi,” he told the cat, pulling a small can of tuna from his coat pocket. “I haven’t forgotten you.” He opened the can and set it on the porch as Fifi retrieved the ball. Hunter took it up again and lobbed it as far as he could, clear into the neighbor’s yard. When the dog took off, Hunter turned to Jill, who stood watching him in awe. “I’m sorry I didn’t call or text first.”

A lump welled in her throat, but she spoke past it. “Hunter, it’s been—”

“Far too long,” he finished for her. He motioned toward the porch with his chin. “Do you mind if we have a seat for a minute?”
 

Sitting sounded like a really good idea. Jill’s head was spinning and her heart was beating double-time. She had worked so hard to convince herself she was over Hunter, but there was no denying the connection she felt when his eyes met hers. Emotion welled within her, rushing like an unstoppable river, and Jill realized how desperately she’d missed him.