Page 75 of Doctorshipped
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Marriage is hard. And not every marriage is built on a solid foundation. But, with the right person, it’s also beautiful, strong, and wonderful. Even with the right person, a relationship will have highs and lows. I’m not delusional. Duke and I will face hardship. It’s sort of par for the course in life, right? But, I’d rather go through hard times with him than have all my days without him. That’s what happens when you find the one you’re meant to be with.”
I nod. “I love that for you. And you know I love everything about love—obviously! I’m a romance author for a reason. I know relationships work out all the time. I adore you and Duke, and all our friends and what they’ve found. But for me, it’s just different. I can’t be sure something won’t blow up in my face. So, it’s better if I steer clear and make myself happy without a life partner.”
Shannon smiles, but her lips are drawn in, her eyes soft with compassion.
“I’m glad we talked.”
“Me too,” I say, even though I really wish this weren’t the way we were spending Shannon’s last night single. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Always. And I don’t know if I agree with everything you said. I think you might have one of the most tender hearts I know, but it’s also one of the strongest, and any man would be more than lucky to capture it.”
24
GRANT
Most people love weddings. I’m sure a fair share of people tolerate them. The majority don’t dread them. We all know which camp I fall into.
Weddings are a bunch of humbug, to quote the great Ebenezer Scrooge.
First of all, there’s the cost. Who needs to spend the equivalent of a downpayment on a house to implement a simple, legally binding contract, inextricably entwining two people for life? A man and woman could achieve the same result for less than the cost of a dinner out with one simple visit to any local courthouse.
Secondly, couples ought to consider the divorce statistics. Ninety percent of all people marry by the time they are fifty years old. And fifty percent of those marriages dissolve, explode, or disintegrate in divorce. Divorce leaves unnecessary carnage in its wake. Bearing in mind the fifty-fifty chance of survival of any given marriage should put a realistic damper on the jovial attitude most people take toward weddings.
Thirdly, a wedding consumes time. People always prattle on about needing more free time. Yet, they choose to set aside a whole day or sometimes even a full weekend, getting unnecessarily dressed up so they can sit in too-small rental chairs, while they’re barely able to hear the officiant or the couple profess their momentary undying love. Then, following the predictable and uninspiring service, people indulge in food and drink and often make fools of themselves all in the name of a pitiful illusion: the elusive, but promised, happily ever after.
But, as in all things, my daughter asked to attend this celebration, and I capitulated because I love making her happy. Which explains why I’m currently driving forty minutes out of town to Shannon and Duke’s wedding, wearing my nicest suit, and enduring Fiona’s road-trip song list which includes a combination ofHigh School Musicaltunes, and trending songs by Dua Lipa and Nicky Youre. I could use some classical music and a private island right about now.
It’s not that I don’t like Duke and Shannon. I do. I’ve had a few opportunities to get to know each of them, especially Duke, since Fiona and I moved into Bordeaux. They’re kind people, and they seem well-matched. But, who doesn’t seem well-matched on their wedding day? Only time will tell whether what they think they have will last.
Am I cynical?
I prefer to think I’m a realist.
The rest of the world chooses to don rose-colored glasses.
Especially Jayme. She probably sleeps in rose-colored glasses to ensure her own sweet dreams.
“Why are you smiling, Daddy?” Fiona asks as we turn down a long dirt and gravel road leading to the event site.
“Am I?”
“Yes. You were sitting there all serious and almost frowny, as usual. And then you smiled for no reason.”
What can I say? I know what made me smile. More like, I knowwhomade me smile. But I’m not talking about the way thoughts of Jayme seem to impact me lately. She’s like a bad case of indigestion. Her effect on me will pass.
The wedding venue is nice. There. I said it. Rolling farmland and properties line the road leading to the turn-off, and the property itself has two smaller lakes, tall trees, and impressive buildings that fit the surroundings.
The ceremony is held in an amphitheater. Forgoing the usual folding-white chairs suited for a preschool class, we are seated on permanent wooden benches that scream “summer camp.” I think I actually just got a splinter in my left glute.
The music swells, indicating the ceremony is about to begin. My eyes rove the area to the back of the amphitheater, looking for Jayme. When I find her, I can’t stop myself from staring.
She’s wearing a mid-length dress in a plum shade. The hemline’s shorter in the front, but flares around the back and seems almost dreamlike the way the fabric billows around her legs in soft waves. The top of the dress hugs Jayme’s ample curves and the cut falls low enough to reveal way more skin than her usual graphic T-shirts. I’m used to seeing Jayme in clothing that could come from the Juniors’ section of a department store. And, while I’m never unaware that she’s a woman, today her femininity slams into me like a freight train.
Jayme’s wearing makeup again. I meant it when I told her she doesn’t need it. But, I’ll admit today it only enhances her natural beauty. Her eyes look even more doe-like and inviting. Her lips have a glossy sheen to them that makes them look fuller and softer. She has a light blush to her cheeks which isn’t the result of her embarrassment. I’ve memorized that natural blush, and this one is different, but it makes her look fresh and stunning.
“Miss Jayme looks beautiful, doesn’t she Daddy?”
