The Groom Wanted Seconds: A Novella (2 page)

Jeremy shot Rebecca a grin, the kind he hoped said
hey, we still have something between us, don’t we?
“Since you’re back in town now, maybe we could grab some dinner tonight?”

She shook her head. “We broke up, remember? Going out to dinner wouldn’t be a good idea.”

He tried another tactic, even as he could feel failure waiting over his head like an executioner’s axe. “I just wanted to catch up. See how your summer went.”

“It was…fine.” Something in her tone told him that the past three months had been anything but fine. Because she’d missed him? Or because she regretted returning to Boston?

“You know, Lockhart is conducting at the Pops on Friday night. They’re doing a jazz themed show and—”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I can’t. Thanks for stopping by.” She started to shut the door.

He put out his hand, to stop the door, feeling the mistake even as he made it, and unable to stop himself. All he could do was stare at the pretty pink of her lips and wonder how the hell he let this woman get away. “Rebecca, let’s at least talk about this. We—”

“Are over. Goodbye, Jeremy.”

Then the door shut and she was gone. The latch clicked into place. The sound ricocheted in his head.

Damn. He was too late. He’d let too much time go by before contacting Rebecca. If her cold and distant tone hadn’t clued him in, then all he had to look at was the closed door in his face—clear, final, no other way to interpret it. They were done.

The logical side of his brain told him to let her go, to move on, to cut his losses. The statistical chances of them working it out were in the low teens. Only a fool took on a lost cause like that. And Jeremy Hamilton had already been fool enough when it came to Rebecca Wilson.

Trouble was, he was a fool who was still in love. And like a hoarse pop star trying to launch a hit record, he kept on pursuing a lost cause, long after his best chance at success had passed him by.

2 pounds ground round

1 green pepper, chopped

1 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

8 ounces water

1-3 tablespoons chili powder

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon oregano

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon salt

1 16-ounce can kidney beans, drained and rinsed, optional

You’ve made a few bad choices over the last few months, and now all that regret is giving you indigestion. Try something spicy to take your mind off things you can’t change. You’ll wake up your palate, and get your metabolism roaring (which means more room for Girl Scout cookie calories later!). In a Dutch oven, brown the ground beef with the onion, pepper and garlic. Drain off fat (you don’t need those calories to add to your guilt, now do you?).

Add remaining ingredients, except for the kidney beans. Simmer slowly for about 45 minutes (or you can put it in a crock-pot for 4-6 hours on low if you have all day to wait). Add beans and heat through. If you have a lot of regrets to sweat away, increase cayenne pepper and/or chili powder until the heat level is enough to get you out of your seat and moving forward again.

C
HAPTER 2

Rebecca closed the door, leaned her head against it and took in a deep breath. Her chest ached, tears seared the back of her eyes. Her hand rested on the knob, but she didn’t turn it. Didn’t undo the decision.

He’d had his chance in the year they’d dated, and he’d blown it. And the sad part? He probably didn’t even realize where he’d gone wrong.

She’d changed in the months since. Changed in good ways, and in bad, but most of all changed in what she wanted from a relationship.

“Did I hear the doorbell ring?”

Rebecca jerked upright, and swiped at her eyes before turning around to face her mother. “Uh, yeah, it was the doorbell.”

“Was it UPS?” Ma asked. “I’m waiting on a shipment from QVC. I’ve been in a vicious bidding war for Beanie Babies on eBay.” She pressed a hand to the chest of her pink sweatsuit, as if the other bidder might show up at any time with an auction gavel and outgun her for a Twigs the Giraffe. Contrasted by the pale yellow tint in her hair, the bright clothes gave her mother the effect of being a human dish of sherbet. Rebecca loved her mother, quirks and all, but right now, she wasn’t in the mood to talk about deliveries or doorbells or anything.

“They’re not making them anymore, you know,” her mother went on. “I have to scoop up what I can.”

“Ma, you already have like a hundred.”

“Two hundred and twenty one. But when you have children,” Gloria wagged a finger, “you’ll thank me.”

Rebecca doubted that, nor did she think her mother would ever let her stuffed beanbag collection out of the hermetically sealed boxes she kept them in. “No, it wasn’t UPS. It was…” she thought of saying Jeremy, then realized that would launch her mother into prying mode, so instead she said, “no one.”

“No one?” her mother said. “Well, someone rang the doorbell. I doubt it’s that little demon spawn from next door. He’s not tall enough to reach the doorbell yet.”

“Ma! You can’t call someone’s kid a demon spawn.”

“If the name fits the behavior, you can. You remember what he did to the neighbor’s pug. That poor dog was pink for weeks.” Gloria shook her head. “Never let a four-year-old near the Rit Dye.”

Rebecca laughed. “This coming from the woman who believes hair should be technicolor?”

Gloria grinned, and pressed a hand to her yellow pouf. “I’m making a statement.”

Rebecca shook her head. Her mother was unique, in a thousand ways. She’d never really fit in back in Heavendale, Indiana, where Rebecca grew up. Then her father had taken a job with the airlines, and they’d moved to Boston when Rebecca was in high school. With her bright hair, wild outfits and exuberant personality, Gloria had fit right into the community, like a peg in the right hole.

“You okay, honey?” her mother asked, placing a cool palm against Rebecca’s cheek. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine. Just…tired from traveling.” Seeing Jeremy had been a lot harder than she’d expected. All summer, she’d told herself she was over him, and then he’d come to her door with that lopsided grin of his, and doubts had wormed their way into her better judgment.

No, she wouldn’t cave. She’d focus on something else—anything else—and if she did that long enough and hard enough, Jeremy would become a distant, pleasant memory.

“Anyway,” Rebecca said to her mother, “I have to get ready. I’m meeting the girls for coffee.”

Good timing, she decided, because coming back home and seeing Jeremy before she even unpacked her bags had left her unsettled. Heck, she’d been feeling that way for weeks. One mistake—

Okay, one huge mistake, one she wouldn’t make again. No matter how much a part of her wanted to just go back in time and erase the summer by letting Jeremy back into her life and her heart. She could pretend it was old times, that she hadn’t fallen for a total Mr. Wrong over the summer, and gotten scorched in the process. Almost ruined the rest of her life, too.

You dodged a bullet
, her mother would say.

“You sure you should go out?” her mother asked. “You really don’t look like yourself.”

“I’m fine, Ma. Really.”

“Well, maybe you just need a little pick-me-up. You know, I think there’s one box of Thin Mints that your father hasn’t found.” She grinned, then drew Rebecca into a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re home, honey.”

“Me too, Ma.”

Her mother headed into the kitchen, back to the HSN-tuned TV and its continual parade of Beanie Baby bargains. Rebecca grabbed her car keys from the dish by the door, but still the haunting feelings persisted. Rebecca paused for only a moment, then hurried behind her mother, who smiled, and pointed to the cabinet above the fridge. Ma knew her well.

Rebecca yanked out the box of Girl Scout cookies, tore open the flap and the plastic sleeve inside. The scent of chocolate and peppermint wafted up, tempting. Promising peace and a sugar high. She stuffed one in her mouth, then closed her eyes and let out a long, satisfied “mmm.”

Thin mints, do your magic.

*~*~*

Candace Woodrow had a secret.

Rebecca could tell she was hiding something the second she walked into the coffee shop and headed for the big round table at the back that had been their meeting place for all four years of college. “Okay, what’s up?”

Candace grinned. “Can’t tell you yet. Not till Maria gets here.”

Rebecca slid into the seat beside her, before taking a sip of the zebra latte she’d bought. The entire sleeve of Thin Mints she’d eaten hadn’t made everything better, but they’d helped. Maybe with the latte, Rebecca would have enough of a sugar rush to forget seeing Jeremy earlier, and also forget all the doubts and regrets that had dogged her for most of the summer. Everyone made mistakes, and she couldn’t keep beating herself up for something that was in the past—and would stay there, buried with the recollections of middle school drama and holiday family meltdowns.

“Well, I hope she hurries. I want to know what you’re hiding.” Rebecca reached for the yellow piece of paper under Candace’s hands, but her friend snatched it back.

“Nope, not going to happen. Not yet. Maria should be here soon.” Candace laughed, then took a sip of tea, while keeping a secure grip on the papers with the other hand. Blond and naturally thin, Candace had inquisitive hazel eyes and a ready smile, along with a mischievous streak that made the occasional appearance. “Besides, you know Maria. She’s never on time for anything.”

“Except a shoe sale and a date with a hottie.” Rebecca had met Candace and Maria during freshman year at Suffolk University and the three of them had become fast friends. As the friendship grew and they discovered more and more common interests, they’d signed up to work on class projects together, one of which was creating a mock small business. When they were done, someone had thrown out the idea of going into business together for real. And now—

They were making the first tentative steps toward that direction.

The bell over the coffeeshop door tinkled, and Maria breezed in, her arms filled with bags from discount stores. A buxom dark-haired beauty with deep brown eyes and a quick wit, Maria was the loudest and most outspoken of the three. She dropped into one of the chairs at the table and plopped her purchases into the seat beside her. “One of these days I’m going to marry rich and then I’ll never look at another price tag again.”

“I can’t help but look at the numbers on everything in a store,” Candace said, a hand on her chest as if the very thought caused her to hyperventilate. “Not to mention doing all the math, figuring the return on investment, the wear per dollar, before I buy anything.”

“You are a sick, sick woman, Candace,” Maria said. “You need to live on the spur of the moment. Live large. Buy some Jimmy Choos and pay full retail.”

“Never. I’m planning everything. That keeps me on track.” Candace pulled out the red leather planner that was as much a part of her as her right arm. “If all goes right, you won’t need a rich man, Maria. You’ll be able to fund your own shopping insanity.”

Rebecca leaned forward. “If all
what
goes well?”

“Our first order.” Candace grinned, then pulled out the yellow piece of paper she’d kept from Rebecca earlier, smoothing it on the table before the other women. “We are officially in business, ladies. Granted, working out of my dining room, and on a shoestring budget, but we’re on our way.”

“Our first order?” Rebecca echoed. The dream they’d had in that college class, the brainstorm that had sprung around this very table months ago, was coming real. They’d taken a leap, together, and it was coming to life. “Wow. Really?”

Candace nodded. “Thanks to you, Rebecca. Remember that realtor you talked to a few months ago? That turned out to be a great lead.”

“She called you?” When she made that connection at a party back in May, Rebecca didn’t know how it would work out. She and the realtor had talked for a half hour, with Rebecca tossing out ideas on ways to increase word of mouth advertising and repeat business. “That’s awesome.”

“You said it, sister. Now we have to do the hard part.” Maria tapped the page. “Perform.”

“We will. And we’ll knock their socks off,” Rebecca said. “Before you know it, we’ll be the biggest gift basket business in the city of Boston. No, on the entire Eastern Seaboard.”

Maria leaned back and gave Rebecca an assessing glance. “Someone had their Wheaties today, with an extra serving of confidence.”

Heat flooded Rebecca’s cheeks. “I just did a lot of thinking,” well, she’d done a lot more than thinking, but she wasn’t getting into that now, “while I was away, and I decided that I’m tired of waiting for change. I’m going to be the change I want to see.”

“Who said that? It sounds familiar.”

“Ghandi.”

“Isn’t that the guy who starved himself? Pretty deep thinking, considering he was operating on an empty stomach. Me, I can’t think if this says empty.” Maria patted her stomach and got to her feet. “I’m ordering some chocolate cake. I think a little celebration is in order, don’t you?”