The Groom Wanted Seconds: A Novella (9 page)

Her face crumpled a little. “Because I’m afraid of making another mistake.”

Fear. He knew that feeling well. But why? What had made Rebecca so afraid? And why didn’t she trust him?

He pulled away from her, and turned back to the bridge. A boat passed beneath them, a couple in a rowboat, taking their time getting down the river. It was the perfect day for such a trip, breezy and sunny, and still warm enough to enjoy the Charles without a jacket. His gaze dropped to the blue-green water below him. “Did you know Harry Houdini once jumped off this bridge?”

“He did?”

Jeremy nodded. “It was April of 1908 and the water was colder than hell. He had that straightjacket on, got it all locked up and secure, then jumped. Something like ten thousand people were here, watching it. He went under the water and it’s so dark and cold, no one can see him. No one knows if he’s drowning or working a key into those locks. Five seconds go by, ten, thirty, more. People start to panic, sure that he’s dying. Women start to cry, men offer to rescue him, and then he just rises to the surface, out of his shackles. He went on to perform a show that night in Boston, too.” Jeremy smoothed a hand across the railing, then turned to Rebecca. “Someone asked him before he jumped if he was afraid and he just laughed and said, ‘What do I have to fear?’”

“A lot.” She shuddered. “I can’t imagine jumping in this water like he did.”

“I used to think he was crazy. You know, in the Charles it was still winter. He could have died of shock, hypothermia, a hundred other things. But then I realized why I like that story. He might have said he didn’t have anything to fear, but he had to be scared. Looking down into that dark, cold water, praying he’d undo the locks fast enough. And he did it anyway.” Jeremy took a step closer to Rebecca, and took both her hands in his. “I used to think that taking the safe way out was the best way to lead my life. No jumping off perfectly good bridges, no daring escapes, no risks. Be as predictable and practical as a design for a water system. But where did that get me?” He let out a gust. “Alone and miserable. I got that job at Griffin the other day—”

Her features brightened, and a smile winged its way across his face. “That’s awesome, Jeremy. I know you wanted that for a long time.”

“The only person I wanted to tell, the only person I wanted to share that news with, wasn’t with me anymore, and I realized that no job, no award, no achievement matters if the people you love aren’t there to share it with you. I let you go, Rebecca, because I was afraid of taking a risk with my heart. It was the same reason I couldn’t tell you I loved you, even though I wanted to marry you. What kind of sense does that make? I was afraid that I would lose my concentration and focus if I had you, too. But you know what? I can’t concentrate or focus on anything
but
you. You are the one who makes me want to jump off bridges,” he laughed when he realized how that sounded, “in a good way. And you’re the only one I want to see when I come back to the surface.”

“Oh, Jeremy. I—”

He put a finger on her lips. “Don’t say it. I don’t want you and me to get back together because of a moment during a sunset. I want us both to be sure that this is what we want forever. I want you to jump off that bridge and be okay with it. Something’s scaring you, but you’re not telling me what that is.”

She looked away. “Jeremy, I…I can’t.”

“Don’t you understand?” He lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “I’m playing for keeps, Rebecca. I love you and I want to marry you. I wanted to marry you the minute I saw you trying to fix that flat on your own. You’re smart and strong and everything I could ever want in a woman. But I don’t want someone who is still afraid of the unknown.” He stepped back, releasing the contact, and thought it had to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. “Enjoy the sunset.”

Then he headed down the bridge and back to his car. Wishing he was Houdini and could magically undo the chains on Rebecca’s heart.

1 pound spaghetti, cooked

3/4 32-ounce jar spaghetti sauce or equivalent of fresh sauce

1 10-ounce container Italian herb flavored cream cheese (or regular cream cheese and 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning)

8 ounces fresh baby spinach

Parmesan cheese

You don’t have time to be dicing and prepping, because you’ve got a big decision to make and not a lot of time to make it. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Cook the spaghetti, drain it, and return it to the pot. Add the spaghetti sauce and cream cheese, stir, then add in spinach and stir until it's wilted.

Pour the spaghetti mixture into a greased pie plate. Top with grated Parmesan cheese. Bake for 30 minutes. Easy and done, and leaves you plenty of time to go after what you
really
want.

C
HAPTER 9

She ran.

But this time, instead of running from her problems, she was chasing after them. It had taken her about twenty seconds to realize that there was no one else in the world she wanted to talk with about Smoots or Houdini or bike tires. No one but Jeremy.

“Jeremy! Wait!”

He turned around, and when his gaze met hers, she could see the light fill his eyes, his face. A light of hope, and she took a deep breath, praying she was making the right decision.

“You were right,” she said, then paused to catch her breath. “I am afraid. Afraid of losing you, afraid of taking the chance of falling for you again. And please, don’t say anything, not until I tell you why.” She drew in a deep, fortifying breath, then she barreled forward, the words tripping over themselves, because if she didn’t say them now, she never would. “When you said we should get married, I panicked, thinking that I would end up married to someone who didn’t know me at all, someone who would never know the way to my heart. Someone too wrapped up in the minutia to see the big picture or to open up and really love me, if that makes sense.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip. “I thought if I found someone else, someone who did the poetry and love songs and romance, I’d be happy. I’d feel loved. I was wrong.”

“You met someone else over the summer?”

She could hear the hurt in his voice. How she wished she could take it away. But where would that get them? Jeremy was right, she was the one with the wall up between them and she needed to tear it down if they were ever to have a second chance. “I met one of those charming, romantic guys that you see in movies or read about in books. He swept me off my feet.”

“Great.” Jeremy nearly spat the word.

Damn. This was hard. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. “It seemed great, at the beginning. I got all caught up in the romance of it, and got lost. I let this…fiction lead me to believe it was something real, when it wasn’t. I realized that all the romance and fiction was a mask for a guy who only wanted one thing. And when he got it, he was gone.” Her hand strayed to her abdomen, and her eyes filled. “I had a flat tire, and he wanted nothing to with fixing it. I made a huge mistake, and trusted too much and…” She shook her head. “I almost ruined my life.”

His gaze raised to her face, concern flooding his blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

Of all the things she had thought Jeremy would say, asking her how she was would be at the bottom of the list. Those three words told her more than any other three words she’d heard before or since. All this time, she had doubted his love for her, when really, it was her own feelings that had been shaky.

No more. Where had those doubts and that fear and that worry about everything being just so gotten her? Nowhere she wanted to be, not until now.

She smiled, then took a step forward, jumping off that bridge, not even worrying anymore if she could undo the locks or not. “I want a man who will be there when I have a flat. A man who will give me loving advice about avoiding that flat in the first place, and most of all, a man who knows me inside and out. Who remembers my coffee order and sends me a silly pen to congratulate me on a deal, and who works hard to build a career and a life for us. A man who loves the real me, not the fiction we all put forward in the beginning.”

“I have always loved the real you, Rebecca, but I didn’t always tell you or show it. I let those goals get in the way of us. I can’t promise to never do that again, but I can promise I will always try to keep this first.” He pulled a photo strip out of his shirt pocket and held it up. She recognized the images in a second, even though the strip was a little crumpled. Three serious poses, and then the last one, Jeremy in a rare moment of being silly.

“That’s my favorite picture of you,” she said, her voice soft and quiet.

“I’ve been keeping it over my desk, to remind myself not to take work too seriously. That the most important thing in the world is relationships with the people I love.”

She grinned. “Maybe I should get you a glittery feather pen.”

He chuckled. “It’d be a hit at the office.”

She took his hands in hers and held them tight, looking into Jeremy’s steady blue eyes. She saw depth there, and truth. He was a man with flaws, like any man, but one with true character. She hadn’t valued that, not until now. “I love you, Jeremy Hamilton, and I can’t imagine spending a single day of my life without you. I want to jump off that bridge with you.”

A grin quirked up one side of his face. “Are you proposing to me?”

She nodded. “Really badly, too.”

“Oh, Rebecca.” Then he shook his head, his features somber, his eyes shadowed. “I can’t let you do that.”

The words hit her hard and swift, a sledgehammer to the gut. “Oh. Okay.” She swallowed and started to step away, but Jeremy tugged her back.

“I can’t let you do that, because…every woman deserves a proper proposal.” He glanced up, then back at her. “And if we hurry, I can do it right. Come on, Rebecca.”

They dashed back the way they’d come, down the concrete path of the bridge, passing painted Smoot markers until they’d reached the exact spot between 182 and 183 again. The sun had nearly finished setting, washing Boston’s sky with pink and purple. Jeremy dropped to one knee, then took Rebecca’s left hand in his. He reached in his pocket and fished out a ring box, flipping back the lid with his thumb. A princess cut diamond winked back from the black velvet bed.

She gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”

He nodded. “I’ve been carrying it around for months.”

“You have? Why?”

“Because if there was even a snowball’s chance in hell that you’d marry me, I was determined to do this right. So here I am, trying again.” He took a deep breath, then looked up at her. “I love you more than I ever imagined loving anyone. I want to share every sunset I can with you, for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me, Rebecca?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding, tears spilling over her lashes and down her cheeks, “yes, I will.”

He tugged out the ring, then slid it onto her finger. The diamond caught the last rays of light and flickered gold across her features. He got to his feet and took her hand. In his, her delicate fingers felt oh so right. Everything about her fit like that with him, perfect.

Across from them, the sun had finished its journey, replaced by the pale light of the moon and the twinkle of early evening stars, as if the sky was celebrating with them. All across Boston, streetlights and apartment lights flickered on, like fireflies dancing across the cityscape.

A perfect moment, timed to the last second with the heavens aligned just right, just as Jeremy had pictured. He leaned over and kissed Rebecca, her lips sweet and warm and everything he ever needed or wanted. And right there and then, Jeremy Hamilton knew exactly how it felt to land a Kickflip McTwister.

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