Page 83 of To Die For

Delight bloomed in me, filled me like water in a balloon until I felt all swollen with it, which may not be a really great description but kind of fits, because I felt as if my insides were too big for my skin. I tilted my head back and gave him a huge beaming smile. “You love me!” I said triumphantly.

He looked faintly wary. “I know. I said so, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but you really do!”

“You thought I was lying?”

“No, but hearing and feeling are two different things.”

“And you’re feeling . . .” He let the words trail off, inviting me to fill in the blank.

“Your heartbeat.” I patted his chest. “It’s jumping around just like mine.”

His expression changed, became tender. “It does that whenever I’m anywhere near you. At first I thought I was developing arrhythmia, but then I realized it acts up only when you’re around. I was about to go in for tests.”

He was exaggerating, but I didn’t care. He loved me. I had longed for and hoped for and dreamed of this practically from the moment I’d met him, and he had devastated me by dumping me the way he had. Oh, I’d have been devastated no matter how he’d done it, but he’d really done a number on me by not telling mewhy.I’d made things as difficult as possible for him this past week because he deserved it for treating me the way he had, and I didn’t regret one moment of it. I just wished I could have made things even tougher by not rolling over for him every time he touched me, but what the hell; sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

“Do you want to get married as soon as we can, or do you want to plan some sort of shindig?” he asked.

There wasn’t any doubt which one he’d prefer. I cocked my head and thought about it for a minute. I’d had the big church wedding and loved every minute of it, but church weddings are a lot of trouble and cost a lot of money—and they take time to plan. I was glad I’d gone through it once, even though the marriage itself hadn’t held up, but I didn’t feel any need to go through all of that pomp and ceremony again. On the other hand, I wanted more than just a quickie marriage.

“Shindig,” I said, and he managed to stifle his groan. I patted his arm. “But not a big one. We have to think of our families and have some sort of to-do, but we don’t have to do a big deal with ice sculptures and a champagne fountain. Something small, no more than thirty people—if that many—maybe in your mother’s garden. Would she like that, or would she be terrified her flowers would get trampled?”

“She’d love it. She loves showing off that house.”

“Good. Wait, what if you can’t find out who’s shooting at me and tampering with my car? What if I have to stay in hiding untilChristmas? There won’t be any flowers then, and besides, it’ll be too cold to have a garden wedding. We can’t even pick out a date!” I wailed. “We can’t plan anything until this is settled.”

“If we have to, we’ll take the entire family to Gatlinburg and get married in one of those little wedding chapels.”

“You want me to get ready in a motel?” I asked, my tone letting him know I wasn’t crazy about that idea.

“Don’t see why not. You aren’t planning on wearing one of those long, big-skirted things, are you?”

I wasn’t, but still . . . I wanted my stuff around me when I was getting ready. What if I needed something and had forgotten to pack it? Things like that can ruin a woman’s memories of her wedding.

“I have to call Mom,” I said, pulling away from him and going to the phone.

“Blair . . . it’s after midnight.”

“I know. But she’ll be hurt if I don’t tell her right away.”

“How will she know? Call her in the morning and tell her we decided over breakfast.”

“She’ll see through that in a heartbeat. You don’t decide to get married over breakfast; you decide to get married after a hot date with making out and stuff.”

“Yeah, I really liked that ‘stuff’ part,” he said reminiscently. “It’s been eighteen, nineteen years since I’d done it in the backseat of a car. I’d forgotten how fucking uncomfortable it is, and vice versa.”

I started dialing.

“Do you want your mom to know about the ‘stuff’ part?”

I gave him a “you’re kidding me” look. “Like there’s any way she doesn’t already know.”

Mom answered on the first ring, sounded harassed. “Blair? Is something wrong?”

Caller ID is a wonderful thing. It saved so much time, bypassing the need for identification. “No, I just wanted to tell you that Wyatt and I have decided to get married.”

“What’s the big surprise about that? He told us when we first met him in the hospital, when you were shot, that y’all were getting married.”

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