Page 24 of Wedding Season
“Damn it,” she whispered and then grimaced. “Sorry, Isabella.”
“I don’t think she’s old enough to repeat or even understand swear words,” Heather said.
“Good point.” Mariella typed in a reply to the urgent text from Emma.
“Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. There was a wedding scheduled at the Wildflower Inn today, and the bride didn’t show for it. It’s our second runaway this month, although we found the first one. According to the note today’s bride left, she took off with the best man so somehow I doubt she’s returning. My business partner texted that thing are getting chaotic with the guests. I need to get over there and help with damage control.”
She started for the door. “Could you run down to the store and tell Jasmin what happened? I’ll do my best to get back but not sure how long it’s going to take to deal with the situation over there.”
“Yeah, sure,” Heather agreed although Mariella knew the girl could be lying. But she didn’t have time to worry about that.
“Thanks.” She should say something else. Something insightful and generous. The words just wouldn’t come, and she doubted they’d make a difference where Heather was concerned. She’d left behind any enthusiasm she had for the fake-it-till-you-make-it school of thought a long time ago. Why bother when she had her hands full just surviving?
ALEXSTOODONthe front porch of his house a few blocks away from the Wildflower Inn later that evening. Night hadn’t completely fallen over his neighborhood filled with stately older homes that spoke of the town’s bygone era. Shadows crept along the edges of the front porch, and the sky had taken on a muted mix of purples and pinks. This time of day had quickly become his favorite, when the world quieted and he could feel the shift from day to night.
The house Alex had purchased was on the smaller side compared to mansions like the Wildflower Inn, but he thought it was perfect. It had a brick facade that had been painted a pale yellow with crisp white trim around the windows and black sashes for each of the panes.
“I don’t understand what you think I can do to help,” he said to the man in front of him.
Cam Arlinghaus had arrived ten minutes earlier to make a case for Alex’s assistance that he still found hard to believe. “You can talk to him. Emma can’t have a guest locked away in an upstairs bedroom for much longer. She’s not going for theFlowers-In-The-Atticaesthetic.”
Alex snorted. “What the hell is up with the book reference?”
“I heard Angi say it and it sounded legit,” Cam admitted with a shrug. “What can I tell you? I’m desperate for whatever argument will work. The wedding guests have all left so the only people still waiting are his parents.”
“Why don’t you send them up to talk to him?” Alex ran a hand through his hair and then cocked his head to listen to a nearby sprinkler. He let the rhythmic hiss calm his nerves and imagined the mist giving a refreshing relief to a parched lawn.
He’d been working in his own yard earlier, hauling flagstone and sand as he prepared to build a patio off the back porch.
He hadn’t grown up doing household or yard projects. Living in the city, his mom and stepfather had hired out anything that needed to be done around the apartment. His real dad traveled so much he normally lived out of a suitcase.
Since coming to Magnolia, Alex had gotten his DIY vibe on. He was only a little embarrassed to admit that much of his motivation for that came from the home improvement shows he’d compulsively watched after his breakup with Amber.
He hadn’t been very good at construction work at first, but he was getting better. His friendship with Cam had started in the local hardware store when the talented contractor and furniture builder had given Alex some pro tips on the cordless drill he was buying. Cam had even shared that part of Emma’s desire to remake famous artist Niall Reed’s old house into an inn after her divorce had come from binge-watching too many home improvement shows.
It seemed funny to Alex that Emma would create a business that specialized in weddings when her background included a similar heartbreak to his. He wanted nothing to do with love or romance or any of the crap that the wedding industry fed people. To him, it was all noise and marketing. Not the authentic type of change he was trying to create with the branding of the Fit Collective. He was all about helping people reinvent themselves and feel proud of their bodies no matter the shape or size. The wedding industry was a different story.
“We’ve tried to get him to open the door. His parents, me, Emma, Angi. Mariella came the closest. You could hear him messing with the lock and then he decided against opening it. The next step is calling the local fire department to help us, but Emma doesn’t want any more publicity than she’s already getting.”
“What in the world would Mariella have said to convince him?” Alex refused to allow the curiosity he felt toward the woman to color his tone. “It seems like she would be better at stopping a wedding than comforting a jilted groom.”
“I get why you feel the way you do about her.” Cam nodded. “But she’s not the same as she was back then. At least I don’t think she is. Because she’s pretty awesome now and from what Emma said, she didn’t exactly have that reputation back in the day.”
“Not exactly,” Alex agreed. “What did she say to the groom?” he repeated, not sure where his curiosity came from. He didn’t—or at least shouldn’t—care about anything that involved Mariella.
“That if the woman who was supposed to love him would cheat then she didn’t deserve him in the first place and that he would be better without her. It was her idea to get you involved.”
“Excuse me?”
Cam shrugged. “From what the groom said, he was most concerned with moving on after being publicly humiliated. I think she thought you could relate.”
Alex could relate on several different levels, but it bothered him to no end that Mariella would have picked up on that. He didn’t like the thought that she had any insight into his personality. And certainly not when it came to something as personal as how he felt about getting on with his life. He hated that he was destined to be defined by that embarrassing moment in time. But it certainly felt as though he’d never live it down.
One easy way was not to get involved. To send Cam back to the inn alone and hope for the best with that jilted groom.
There was no chance of denying he understood what the guy was going through. And based on just the little Cam had told him, he also thought he might be able to offer some words of encouragement, potentially enough to entice the man to open the door and face the world. It was bound to happen sooner or later because the alternative was too bleak to consider.
