I did not appreciate Ned’s sharp note of disbelief. “I said I’m here…with someone. A date. The two of us. Together. At this function.” I sniffed as I tried to conjure better words. “We’ll probably kiss a lot later. After cake, that is. Not before the first serving, but definitely…definitely before the second.” I swallowed back a moan of misery. I’d never been good at lying. I was fantastically horrible at it.
Ned’s thin nostrils flared. “I…I hadn’t heard.”
“It was…sudden.”Like just now.
His blond brows knit into a V. “Is it serious?”
“It’s, um…”
“Edward, darling.”
And thensheshowed up.
I wasjustabout to confess my grand fib toEdward darling. I’d been seconds away from setting the record straight—then the woman who stole it all away from me appeared.
“Britney, hi.” Ned’s cheeks pinkened as she slipped her arm around his neck and leaned in to kiss that flushed face. Britney wore a terrible orange sundress that hugged her in all the wrong places. Her topknot was a sideways wad of frizz because the Arkansas heat is no respecter of persons. She looked like she had put on weight, and I found that immensely gratifying.
Ned cleared his throat and audibly swallowed. “Hattie, this is…um, Britney.”
It was so strange thatthiswas the woman he’d thrown me over for. I could still smell the deception on them both. I stared at Britney like I was ready to take her out back and show her everything I’d learned from my grandmother. “Yes. I remember you.”
But Britney was not the least bit intimidated. No, that orange hoyden rested her head upon the shoulder that had once been my favorite spot to burrow, her smile saccharine and her lip liner smudged. “How absolutely fun to see you here,” she said.
“A thrill.” I hoped my bored face was believable. But I had the feeling instead of looking unaffected, I probably looked like I had eaten too many burritos at Casa Taco.
“Hattie’s dating someone,” Ned said awkwardly, his eyes locked on me. “Isn’t that…great?”
“It’s fabulous,” she purred. “Isn’t it beautiful that we’re all happy?”
I took another deep breath. Five…four…three...
It was no use. I wanted to rail at them both, to let them know exactly how I felt and what they’d so callously done to me. Weweren’tall happy. Didn’t Ned care that he’d broken our engagement just after the choir ironically sang “I’ll Fly Away”? He still owed me his portion of the wedding bills, and not once had he offered to help write any of the “Thank you for the gift, and I’m sorry my fiancé is a loser” cards.
“This is highly uncomfortable,” I managed to say. Though I would spare them my spurned-woman wrath, I wasn’t letting Britney and Ned off scot-free. “Ned, I hope this one sticks. Britney…orange is a fabulous color on you. Wear it often.” Inhale…exhale. “I should get back to my date.”
“Oh, before you go,” my replacement said as I took a step away. “Did you tell her our little news, Edward?”
“N-no.” Ned shook his head, a rapid movement, as if trying to shake off an impending wreck. “No, now’s not really a good time.”
“It’s always a good time to share thrilling news.” Britney tossed her sin-black locks and graced me with a victorious smile. “Congratulate us. We’re pregnant!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ihave no memory of walking to the table where Miller sat, nursing a watery glass of wine and looking like he was one more taquito away from falling asleep.
But there I stood before him, trying not to cry and hoping he wouldn’t make me beg. “Want to dance?”
Miller tossed back his vino and gave me his attention. He leaned forward, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, and propped his elbows on the table. “By chance are you changing your mind about needing my assistance?”
The cello took lead on a Stevie Wonder song I had previously loved and now would always attach to the wedding from hell. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“You were quite adamant that my services were not desired. Let me see if I recall the words.” He scrunched his face in a ridiculous display of deep thought. “Ah, yes. Help declined. Rejected. Return to sender. Do I have that about right?”
“It was smug sender.” I coughed past the lump in my throat. “If you’re going for accuracy.”
“Huh.” Miller inspected my face, his sharp gaze quietlyassimilating the necessary data. No doubt he saw my eyes shining with moisture, the set of my slumped shoulders, and my hands clutching one another in a death grip. “You tell me what you need,” he said.
If we were in a movie, the romantic music would swell, and the camera would close in on my parted lips, my wide eyes. Had a hotter question ever been posed?
