The Bridesmaid (17 page)

“Okay, well, I have something huge I have to ask my parents, but they kind of have other things on their minds right now,” Abby said.

“Like your sister’s wedding?” Barb asked.

“Basically.” Abby pulled the canister of sportsthemed pencils toward her on the desk and ran her hand over the erasers. No reason to bring up the constant fighting that was going on.

“What’s the something huge? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Abby stopped fidgeting and looked at Barb. “I got into a student exchange program and I’m going to go to Italy for a whole year and play soccer with Roberto Viola.” It was the first time she’d said it out loud.

Barb’s blue eyes widened and she whistled. “Wow. That
is
big. Congratulations. That Roberto Viola’s a hot one.”

“Barb! Ew!” Abby exclaimed.

“What? I still got a libido!” Barb replied.

“All right, all right,” Abby said, trying to get the mental image of Barb and Roberto Viola out of her head before it stuck there. “So what should I do?”

“You should tell them,” Barb said. “They may be all wrapped up in Carol right now, but you’re still their daughter and they love you. They should hear about this.”

Abby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Barb was right about one thing—she knew her parents loved her. But she wasn’t exactly sure they were going to want to hear about Italy. Especially not with the War of the Wedding being waged at all hours. Abby hadn’t even had a chance to tell them about her and Noah yet. Every time she saw them they were both in such horrid moods, she knew they wouldn’t react in the ecstatic way she wanted them to. It broke her heart to imagine saying, “Mom! Guess what? I’m totally in love with Noah Spencer!” And her mother looking back at her with that angry determined look on her face, “Don’t you think an English garden theme is a beautiful idea? Good. Tell your father.”

So instead, Noah was yet another secret.

“Tell them you need them both for half an hour, then sit them down and spill the beans,” Barb suggested. “Why not do it this weekend?”

“I can’t. Carol’s shower is this Sunday,” Abby replied. “And I have to make this huge vat of rice pudding.”

“Rice pudding?”

“Yeah, it’s Carol’s favorite. It’s for the shower. I’ve been working on the shower all week and I really want it to be perfect.”

Whoa. Was that me who just said that?
Abby thought, nearly gagging.

Barb smiled. “You’re a good sister, kid. So wait till after the shower, but not long after. Meantime, I got an idea.” She slapped Abby on the back, then popped open the register drawer and pulled out a few bills. “Why don’t you go over to that bakery you love so much and get us some cannoli to celebrate your international adventure?”

“Really? Thanks!” Abby beamed, grabbing the cash. Free snacks
and
a little Noah time. What could be a better mood lifter? “Be right back!” she called as she jogged for the door.

Abby kept under the awnings along the strip mall to avoid getting soaked. She was giddy with anticipation over getting to see Noah. It was like that feeling she got right before her parents brought out her birthday presents and she loved it. She hustled over to the bakery and whipped the door open. Spencer’s was even deader than Sports Expert. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Hello?” Abby called out.

Nothing. She walked behind the counter and over to the kitchen door, where she stopped, her breath completely taken away. Sitting in the middle of the huge wooden worktable was the most beautiful wedding cake she had ever seen. The white icing was covered with intricate swirls of the lightest light pink and dotted all over the cake were hundreds of tiny, colorful butterflies. It wasn’t just a cake. It was art.

But it wasn’t just the cake that left Abby fighting for breath. It was watching Noah, his backward baseball cap streaked with icing, his brow furrowed in concentration, as he decorated it. He was so intensely focused, he had yet to notice her standing there.

“Wow,” she said finally, because she had to say something.

Noah started and looked up. He saw Abby and took a couple of instinctive steps back from the cake.

“Noah! I didn’t know you decorated!” Abby said, walking up to get a closer look. “This cake is unbelievable.”

“Okay, you need to go.” Noah grabbed Abby’s shoulders and turned her back in the direction from which she’d come. “You were never here. You never saw this. Buh-bye.”

“Noah!” Abby said, freeing herself from his grip. “What’s your deal?”

“Abby, if my dad found out that you knew I was decorating . . . I think he’d pretty much have a heart attack,” Noah said, walking out into the shop.

Abby followed, confused. “What—he doesn’t know? How could he not know?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t know,” Noah said. “It’s that no one else can know.”

“Okay, ya lost me,” Abby told him. She leaned back on the bakery case and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation.

Noah sucked in a deep breath, put his hands on his hips and sighed. His face was streaked with flour and icing. All she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him—which she would have done if he weren’t being so weird.

“Look, one of the reasons this place does so well is that everyone is guaranteed a wedding cake personally decorated by the famous Dominic Spencer,” Noah said, his expression pained. “If it got out that I’d been decorating all the cakes for the last year, it’d be—”

“The last
year
?” Abby exclaimed. “All those cakes you brought over . . . ? You decorated them?”

Noah swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Omigod, Noah,” Abby said, pushing away from the case. “Some of those cakes were . . . I mean they’re gorgeous. You’re really good.”

Noah smiled for the first time all afternoon. “I know,” he said with a laugh. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Abby asked, baffled.

“It’s just . . . I’m in this now. For life,” Noah said. “This is why I can’t go away to school, Ab. I’ve only been doing this because . . . well, because my dad has serious debilitating arthritis. And it’s only getting worse. I’m doing it because he can’t.”

Abby couldn’t believe it. Dominic had arthritis? That would be like Pedro Martinez breaking his pitching arm. Around this town, Dominic was a legend. He must have been heartbroken. And to know the father and son had been dealing with this for a year . . . Abby wasn’t quite sure what to say. It was devastating. She looked at Noah, and tilted her head.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love decorating,” Noah said. “Never thought I would, but it’s kind of cool.” He smiled and looked back toward the kitchen. “And like you said, I’m pretty good at it.”

“Well . . . that’s good, then,” Abby said.

“Yeah,” Noah replied. “And now you know my deepest darkest secret,” he said, stepping toward her and putting his arms around her waist. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I promise,” Abby said. She was touched that he’d told her his big secret, even if he’d already sort of had to. As he wrapped her up in a sugarcoated hug, she felt totally amazing, and completely guilty at the same time.

She knew Noah’s deep dark secret, but she was still keeping something from him. There was no doubt about it. She had to figure out what to do about Italy, and she had to do it soon.

“Okay, so we’re going with the single orchid centerpieces for the tables, right?” Abby was talking into her cell phone while pacing back and forth along the sidelines at Van Merck.

“Yep. Liam has the delivery set for ten a.m.,” Tessa told her.

“All right, everybody! Huddle up!” Matt Fiorello called out from the center of the field.

“Great. Okay. My game’s about to start. I gotta go—”

“Wait! Abby! We never discussed the favors,” Tessa said. “Missy found this company called Custom Cookies and they have these amazing cookies shaped like little wedding cakes.”

Abby glanced at the field, itching to get out there and play.

“That sounds fine,” Abby said.

“We want to bring them over to show you and get your approval,” Tessa said.

Abby rolled her eyes. “No. You don’t have to do that. Little cake cookies sound . . . great!” she said, hoping her enthusiasm sounded convincing.

“Look, Abby, we want you to be included. We’re bringing them by.”

“Tessa! I’m at the park! I’m playing soccer! You cannot bring cookies by for my approval!” Abby cried. A couple of the guys chuckled as they walked by.

“Look, I don’t want a redo of the dress incident,” Tessa said. “Carol said to run everything by you, so we’re running it by you. Be there in a few. Bye!”

Abby clicked off the phone and groaned. This wedding was following her everywhere. She plopped down on the bench and relaced her cleats just to have something to do. It looked like she was going to miss out on the first game of the day. Missing things seemed to be the theme lately. Last night she had missed out on going to the movies with Delila in order to stay up way too late making Carol’s pudding for the shower. It had taken a full hour just to dish it into crystal bowls to store in the fridge. Then that morning she had spent two hours writing out place cards, and this afternoon was reserved for helping her mom decorate the parlor. A little exercise was exactly what she needed to get her mind off the bridal insanity. But she wasn’t going to get it until she had a cookie meeting.

There had to be a special place in heaven reserved for maids of honor.

Christopher’s car pulled into the lot and Abby smiled as he jogged over to her. The game had already started so she and Christopher were both out. At least she had somebody to chill with while she waited.

“Hey! I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, catching his breath. He dropped onto the bench and started yanking cleats and shin guards from his bag. “I have to tell you something so cool!”

“What’s up?”

“My dad got us press passes for a Revolution game the Wednesday after next,” Christopher said proudly. “All access. That means we can be on the sidelines, in the locker room, wherever.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. You mean we’re going to get to meet Taylor Twellman and Steve Ralston and actually, like,
talk
to them?”

“The whole team,” Christopher said. “
All
access!”

“Omigod!” Abby said, turning sideways on the bench. “This is so amazing! Your dad is my hero! I can’t even tell you how much I love you right now.”

“Oooh. How would Cakeboy feel about that?” Christopher asked.

“Shut up,” Abby replied, flushing.

But Christopher made a good point. How
would
Noah feel about her and Christopher going off and doing something this cool together? Together alone. He would probably be jealous, she knew. Boys could be so fragile.

I can’t tell him,
she realized, her stomach turning. If Noah knew about this he’d get suspicious and if he got suspicious things would get tense between them. The last thing Abby needed right now was more complications in her life.
But there won’t be any more complications
if I don’t tell him,
Abby realized.

“Um, Ab? Are those girls over there waving at you?”

Abby looked toward the parking lot to find Tessa and Missy standing by Tessa’s car, indeed waving frantically in her direction. Tessa was holding up a cookie and pointing to it while Missy gabbed on her phone.

“I’ll be right back,” Abby said, jumping up and racing toward them before anyone else noticed. If she knew anything about her soccer buddies it was that they would never let her live down a scene like this.

Abby walked into the catering kitchen on Sunday morning, all decked out in her maid of honor outfit—a pair of unwrinkled chinos and a blue T-shirt. As soon as she stepped into the room she heard Noah’s van pull up out back, and her heart executed a somersault. She rushed over to the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Noah squeezed her shoulders, then planted a quick kiss on her lips. Followed by a longer one like he just couldn’t resist. Abby had to hold her breath to keep from giggling.

“I came to wish you luck with the shower,” Noah said, walking past her into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Abby said.

“And to invite you over for dinner next Wednesday,” Noah added.

“Why next Wednesday?” Abby asked, pulling a stack of napkins toward her and starting to fold.
Next
Wednesday . . . next Wednesday . . . Why does that sound so
familiar?

“My aunt Ro is coming into town and she’s stopping by,” Noah said, grabbing a few napkins to help. “She’s my mom’s sister. You’d love her.”

“You want me to meet your aunt?” Abby asked, beaming. It was so sweet!

“Yeah. So, are you free?” Noah asked.

Suddenly it hit her—the reason next Wednesday was stuck in her mind. She was going to the Revolution game with Christopher, which she hadn’t told Noah about. Abby swallowed back a lump of acidic guilt. After all, what Noah didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Actually, I don’t know if it’s the best idea,” she said. “It’s only a couple of days before the wedding and I should really be here for Carol, you know, if she needs anything.”

Noah’s smile faltered, but he nodded. “Wow. You’re really starting to take this thing seriously.”

“Well, I
am
the maid of honor,” Abby joked.

“I understand, but if you’re free you can always stop by.”

“Yeah,” Abby said, relieved. “If I’m free.”

“So, I still can’t believe you didn’t let me make the dessert for this thing,” Noah said, leaning against the counter.

“Hey, Carol wanted rice pudding,” Abby said, walking over to the fridge and yanking on the door. “And what the bride wants the bride—”

Abby stopped as the horrid stench of sour milk and curdled cream filled her nostrils. Noah took a step back as they both gazed into the refrigerator. The telltale whir of the motor was absent. The light hadn’t gone on when she opened the door. The catering fridge had died. And it had taken the rice pudding and all the other food with it.

“Omigod,” Abby said. She slammed the door and leaned back against it. “The guests are going to be here in an hour and we have no dessert.”