The Groom Wanted Seconds: A Novella (6 page)

His blue eyes caught hers and held for a long, heated second that sent desire coiling in her gut. Fierce, surprising want surged inside her. Good thing they were in a public place, or she’d be caving to that want.

He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t.” He raised the cup. “Enjoy your coffee.”

Then he was gone, and her heart deflated like an inner tube in shark-infested waters. What the heck just happened? And who was
that
Jeremy?

The door opened again, and Candace hurried in, heading straight for the table. She dropped into the chair beside Rebecca and hung her purse on the chair’s back. “You’ll never believe who I just saw outside.”

“Jeremy.”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“He was here. He had the barista bring me a mocha. And when I asked him to stay and talk, he said…no.”

“No? But I thought you said he wanted to get back together. Why would he pass up an opportunity to plead his case?”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca fiddled with the handle on the mug. Was he done trying to win her back? If that was the case, shouldn’t she be happy? Relieved? “He seemed…different today, too. More confident. Stronger. Like the breakup didn’t bother him anymore.”

“Maybe he had a good day at work?”

“Or maybe he’s over me and moved on to someone else.” That was what she’d wanted, what she’d hoped would happen when she spent the summer in Indiana. Distance and time would cool Jeremy’s feelings and he’d move on, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the messy ramifications of their breakup when she returned. But the thought of that actually happening, of his smile being meant for someone else, of his lips kissing another’s—

Made her stomach roll and pitch.

“You are jealous.” Candace grinned like the Cheshire cat and sat back in her chair. “You still want him.”

A protest came to Rebecca's lips, but she swallowed it back. She’d denied the truth for months, thinking she was doing the right thing, the easy thing. She’d been wrong. Rebecca sighed. “Yeah. I do. A lot.”

“Then why not just go for it?”

Rebecca closed the lid on her laptop and pushed it to the side. “What if I do, and we end up where we were before? Me doing all the work in the relationship and him just coasting along? He’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, and one who pushes
all
the right buttons,” at that her face heated, “but he always kept this wall up, like he was afraid of completely opening up to me. I mean, he asked me to marry him, but couldn’t say he loved me?”

“What if he’s changed? What if losing you has made him realize his mistakes?”

One cup of coffee, albeit one that had been perfectly ordered, didn’t mean anything, Rebecca told herself. “What if it hasn’t?”

Candace laughed. “Oh, Rebecca, now you sound like me. Cautious Candace, always taking the safe, planned route.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Well, no, says this self-proclaimed look-both-ways-then-look-again gal, but I think you’re taking the easy way out. I think at heart, you’re a little more spontaneous than that.”

“Me?” Rebecca let out a nervous laugh. If Candace only knew. “I’m not at all.”

Or not anymore. This summer, she’d been spontaneous and look where it almost landed her. A disaster of epic proportions, averted by fate or God, or luck. Whichever, she was just glad to be back to normal, and back on track.

Except, a part of her still felt derailed, off-kilter. It had to be the hours she’d spent working on the website, or something.

“Who was the one who up and decided in the middle of the day to run over to Government Center and hand out samples to businesspeople?” Candace asked.

“Me. But all that did was cost us. We didn’t get a single order out of the hundred samples I gave out.”

“No, we didn’t that week. But people took our cards, and tucked them away, and guess what?” Candace pulled out a sheaf of papers from her back pocket. “Three of them ordered just this week. We have a new baby basket to make up, a bridal shower one to do and four others for a lawyer for Secretary’s Day.”

Rebecca flipped through the orders. “We got all these, just from that one day?”

“Yup. When I asked each of them how they heard about us, they mentioned the cookies and the, I quote, “cute, friendly brunette” who gave them out.” Candace covered Rebecca’s hand with her own. “You made an impression, because you took a chance. People appreciate that.”

“I’m just trying to build our business. All three of us are.”

“You’re the whole reason behind Gift Baskets to Die For. You’re the one who had the idea, who led us down this crazy, awesome path. Without you, me and Maria would probably be—“

“Exactly where you are right now. I wasn’t the only one with entrepreneurial spirit.”

“Okay, you’re right about that. But you
channeled
it, Rebecca. You got us to take the risk. How many girls start a business before they even graduate college? And do it with friends, at that? It breaks all the rules we learned in class.”

Rebecca laughed. “That’s true. Professor Hinkley would shudder to think of us doing this.”

“Exactly. So why won’t you break the rules when it comes to Jeremy?”

She looked away. And in her gut, she knew the real reason she had avoided Jeremy. Getting back together with him would mean telling him what had happened in the months they’d been apart. She was no longer the same woman who had left in June, and never would be. Jeremy had fallen for some idealized, perfect Rebecca, and she was far from that. “We just aren’t right for each other. That’s all.”

“I think you’re scared.” Candace crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. “Yup. Terrified.”

“Me? Of course not.”

“What did you do when he asked you to marry him?”

“Well, we broke up a few minutes later. I mean, I had already decided—”

“You panicked and you ended it. Granted, his proposal sucked, and I’m not sure what’s up with him and saying those three little words, but keep in mind that he’s a guy and romance doesn’t come naturally to males. It’s up to women to show them the way.” Candace grinned. “You could have just told him to ask you properly, and I bet Jeremy would have come back with a second, much better proposal—”

“Timed to the last second, located in the perfect geographical coordinates for optimal star viewing or something.”

Candace laughed again. “Yeah, probably. But that’s what you liked about him. Remember? His attention to detail. His perfectionism.”

“He was attentive to all the details in his job.” Rebecca smoothed her hand across the table, whisking away invisible crumbs. “Just not the ones about me.”

“Really?” Candace tapped the coffee mug on the table. “Because it seems to me he paid attention to the details that mattered.”

*~*~*

First thing Monday morning, George stepped out of his office, waved to Jeremy and called him into his office. “Great job on the tank project,” he said.

“Thank you, sir.” Jeremy settled into the red leather visitor’s chair that faced George’s mahogany desk, and a large picture window that made the most of an incredible view of downtown Boston. On a clear day, the city sparkled like shiny new coins.

“What’s up with you these past few days?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“You’ve been a lot more outspoken. A real take charge guy in the meetings.” George leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You even told Stan he was wrong.
Nobody
stands up to Stan.”

That was true. Half the office was afraid of the six-foot-two boorish and loud engineer. Jeremy braced himself to be fired for taking Stan to task, then decided to be honest. Might as well go out telling the truth. “I just decided I was tired of losing out on what mattered to me. Being Mr. Nice Guy hasn’t gotten me very far.”

George wagged a finger in disagreement. “That Mr. Nice Guy is the one I brought in for the internship. But…” he popped forward in the chair, “this new one, that’s the Jeremy I’m hiring. Assuming you can manage to keep a little of Mr. Nice Guy in there with Mr. Killer Instincts.”

Jeremy swallowed hard. “Did you say hiring?”

George grinned, then reached forward and put out a hand. “Welcome to Griffin Engineering, Jeremy. Starting this week, you’re a paid employee of the firm.”

Jeremy blinked. It took a good five seconds for the words to process in his brain, words he had worked for so long to hear. He shook with George, then sat back. “Thank you. I’m flattered and grateful and honestly, a little surprised.”

“You shouldn’t be. You’re the smartest, hardest working intern I’ve had in this office in a long time. I’m looking forward to what you can bring to the team.”

Jeremy thanked his boss again, then got to his feet, but the joy over the achievement had already dissipated. Why? This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What he’d slaved towards, given up weekends, nights out.

As he made his way to the door, he caught a glimpse of a photo on the bookshelf. Judging by the dark hair on George’s head, it was an older photo of him with his family, somewhere on a beach. George stood in the center, flanked by two little boys on one side, and his wife on the other. A half dozen other photos surrounded the first one, individual pictures of the kids, one of George on a fishing boat. No other happy family ones.

That’s when it hit Jeremy. He didn’t care about the job offer because he couldn’t share the news with the one person who mattered. Rebecca was everything he’d ever wanted, and more, and without her, the achievement was hollow.

He headed back to his desk. No pictures adorned the space, nothing but the tools of his job. Spreadsheets, goal lists, deadline notes, hung on the walls, sad décor accented by a computer, a stapler, a bunch of pens and pencils, and an assortment of paperclips.

He’d concentrated on all these things, nose to the grindstone, and achieved his goal. He had the job. But without Rebecca, the job was just that—a job.

Time for a new goal. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a long color photo strip, one of those silly things people did at the mall. Step into a booth, pull the curtain and immortalize four moments for two bucks.

In the photos, Rebecca laughed and mugged for the camera, and he sat beside her, as stone-faced as Mt. Rushmore. Except for the last picture. Rebecca had turned just before the camera snapped, and planted a big, noisy kiss on his cheek. A big, goofy grin had spread across his face, and the camera had frozen that moment, that smile, forever. He used to hate that picture, the way he looked so…silly.

Now he looked again and saw a man who had spent three-fourths of his time afraid to risk goofiness. Afraid to be the fool. Afraid to say the words that could change his future.

I just decided I was tired of losing out on what mattered to me.

Jeremy reached in his desk, pulled out a pushpin, then pressed it into the top of the photo strip and hung it on the cloth covered wall of his cubicle. The photo hung over the spreadsheets, the goal lists, the deadline reminders. He needed only one reminder now—picture number four.

Goofy grin and all.

2 teaspoons butter

1 cup sliced celery

1 cup chopped carrot

1/2 cup chopped onion

1 teaspoon thyme

1 teaspoon poultry seasoning

4 cups chicken broth

4 ounces egg noodles or star-shaped pasta

2 cups cooked chicken

Parsley

Salt and pepper to taste

You gotta master the basics before you move on to the master course, and chicken soup is as basic as they get. So master this classic and you’ll have a way to cure the common cold, and keep your man at home where the fire’s already burning. In a large saucepan or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the celery, carrots and onion, then add the thyme and poultry seasoning. Stir and cook for a few minutes, until the vegetables are as soft as your heart.

Add the broth (add more if you want your soup more broth-y), then add the pasta and bring to a boil, then cook until pasta is done. Turn down soup to a simmer, add the chicken, parsley, salt and pepper. Cook until chicken is warmed through, and serve to the man you most want to keep in your life.

C
HAPTER 7

The package caught her by surprise.

Rebecca was heading out the door, off to a meeting with Candace and Maria to work on the twenty-gift basket order, when the delivery driver pulled into the driveway. “More Beanie Babies,” she called over her shoulder to her mother.

“Not for me. This one must be for you.” Gloria came to stand by the door, and watched as the driver handed Rebecca a slim package and had her sign the form on his clipboard. “Who’s it from?”

“Jeremy,” she said.

“Are you going to open it?” her mother asked.

She fingered the flap. “I’ll wait.”
Coward.
“I gotta go, Ma. Bye.” She kissed her mom on the cheek, then headed outside, tossing the white envelope onto the passenger’s seat of her car.

She drove over to Candace’s Dorchester duplex, and pulled into the driveway. Candace’s grandma, who lied about her age and still lived like she was twenty-five, gave Rebecca a wave. Today, Grandma Woodrow had on bright pink stretch pants and an oversize white T, making her look like the Flashdance dancer—in retirement.