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The Junior Bridesmaid

By Amy Baker

The Junior Bridesmaid

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Amy Baker

Published by Amy Baker

Prologue

I looked in the dressing mirror with my bottom lip sucked in as far as it would go. There was no two ways about it. I looked ridiculous. And not just because of the lip action, although admittedly it didn’t help my overall appearance. No, I looked ridiculous because of what I was wearing. What the hell was a Junior Bridesmaid anyway? Maybe this was just one more way for Darcy Strong to torment me.

Conservatively speaking, there were about a hundred million other things I would rather be doing at that exact moment in time. Including the horrifying responsibility of clipping great grandpa Willis’ toenails, which experience had taught me was an absolute nightmare. You needed a hacksaw to get through those suckers. The last time I cut them a toenail clipping simulated a shard of shrapnel and stuck in my brother’s neck clear across the room. After he stopped screaming “I’m hit! I’m hit!” we had to take him to the emergency room for stitches and a Tetanus shot where we sat waiting for the ER Doctor for five long hours. Given a choice between potentially contracting Staph in the emergency room and the bridal shop where I currently stood, I think the emergency room still held more appeal. Yet, there I was, at my mother’s insistence, parked approximately six inches off the ground on a mint green, carpet covered platform waiting for Angela, the bridal shop owner. She had disappeared behind a curtain at the rear of the store what felt like an hour ago. She said something about accessorizing before she began her journey waddling more left and right than she did forward. It was a wonder that the woman ever got anywhere. I was hoping her unusually long absence was due to her desperate search for an invisibility cloak that would cover the heinous dress I was wearing but that was just wishful thinking on my part. While I waited, lower lip still neatly tucked, my head tilted from side to side trying to decide which part of the purple dress was more hideous. Was it the drop waist that landed just above my knees, the large poufy sleeves, which could double as headrests if I was suddenly stricken with a bout of exhaustion or the bow the size of Kansas that was parked strategically in front of my vagina?

Hmm.

Hard to say.

But I definitely had to go with the bow.

Once my mother received the exciting news of Darcy’s engagement and the even more exciting news (to her anyway) that I was being asked to be in the bridal party, her enthusiasm was difficult to contain. Actually, it was off the charts.

Impossible to measure.

But despite her euphoria, I still protested fervently. I really didn’t want to be a part of Darcy’s wedding party. But my mother became insistent.

“Oh, my dear, Delilah. You need to be more…pliable. This is one of those opportunities you just can not refuse,” she sang the last word.

This was an opportunity? What opportunity would that be? The opportunity to be tortured by the biggest bitch in the county? No matter how hard I tried and I put in quite an effort, I still couldn’t see my mother’s point of view. So I continued to dig in my heels. But after days of presenting my case from various different angles outlining the reasons why I shouldn’t be a part of Darcy’s wedding, my mother still hadn’t budged. I even stooped so low as to insinuate that it would take away from my studies which she must have known was bullshit because she responded with a nonchalant ‘Oh Delilah, don’t be silly.’ It finally occurred to me that I had no choice but to be in Darcy’s wedding.

Not for Darcy but for my mother.

Clearly it meant more to her than I could comprehend or she wouldn’t be so adamant about my participation. So I stopped resisting and became more, as she put it, pliable. I even swore that I would embrace my duties as a Junior Bridesmaid even though I still had not a single clue what those might be. I just couldn’t fathom what services a Junior Bridesmaid could possibly provide that the bridesmaids, maid of honor and flower girl didn’t already have covered. With my luck I was supposed to wipe her ass when she was unable to locate it herself under all that tulle and shiny material. But, come what may, with my fingers crossed that it wouldn’t be Darcy’s ass, I decided I would look at the bright side.

And, boy-oh-boy was there ever a bright side. His name was Matthew Rowen. Otherwise known as, Hugh, the groom. There was nothing in the world brighter than Hugh Rowen. At least not for me. And I had been in love with him for as long as I could remember.

Seeing him on a regular basis would be far from a hardship. So I planned on participating in the festivities with a smile on my face and a hint of eyeliner on my upper lids. Knowing the man of my dreams would be there was a good enough reason for me to show up and look (okay maybe stare) at the bright side.

But as luck would have it and I would eventually learn, it turned out the groom didn’t partake in quite as many bridal activities as I would have thought. So, it didn’t take long for my positive outlook to wane. Once again I found myself dealing with Darcy, her attitude, and her circle of wenches with not a whole lot of bright side after all. Actually the experience on a whole was turning into a virtual nightmare. Even the eyeliner was becoming irritating.

Gretchen Welling, also known as my mama, was what others might consider to be a simple woman. She never had the opportunity to go to college, as Great Grandpa Willis who raised her didn’t see the point in “investing” in a female’s future. Needless to say, his ideas were as dense as his toenails. Plus she was insanely in love with my father in high school and they eloped the day after graduation. But that didn’t mean that my mama wasn’t smart. She was. And she was always one to share her sage advice. Granted, sometimes it would seem to come out of left field but that didn’t make it any less significant or noteworthy.

For example, we would be in the middle of the produce section at the local supermarket and she would say something to the effect of, “Always remember when you’re older to call your grandparents.” I would look around trying to figure out what triggered the remark. Had she spotted my father’s parents somewhere in the store? Or were the grapefruits she was squeezing somehow reminiscent of her grandmother? Usually I was unable to figure it out.

But then there were other times where Mama’s advice was not only poignant but timely as well. She had the uncanny ability to seemingly hone in on exactly what was weighing on my mind. I don’t know how she did it, either she sensed it or knew me so well that she could feel my mood change. But she could pinpoint my concern or worry with unparalleled accuracy without my having said a single word. It was remarkable. One specific incident in particular we were sitting at a red traffic light in town and she hit the nail right on the head. Walking by, directly in front of our car in the crosswalk, was Darcy Strong. Had my eyes narrowed in disgust? I don’t think so. I was fairly certain I had remained purposefully expressionless. But at that very moment was when my mother chose to share a bit of her wisdom.

“Hate,” she said the word crisply, “is a strong word.” Maybe her pun was intended since Darcy’s last name was Strong. Or maybe she had that sixth sense that mothers always profess to have. But her chosen words couldn’t have been more accurate. I hated Darcy Strong. And it was blatantly clear that Darcy hated me. My guess was because I had the audacity to draw breath. Contrarily, my hatred for Darcy wasn’t unjustifiable. She gave me countless reasons to despise her over the years.

The most recent incident involved the premature death of my short-lived bridal party thrill. She had timed her attack perfectly to achieve maximum humiliation. She probably caught me ogling her soon to be husband and was hell bent on retaliation. But in my defense it was impossible to avoid staring at the man. He was that beautiful.

I wasn’t shocked when she did it. It was more like an anticipated eventuality. But truthfully it didn’t hurt any less. We had all been asked to gather at the Strong home for a mini engagement celebration. When my mother and I arrived we walked into the living room where we found all of Darcy’s cronies, Hugh, and, of course, Aunt Dody and her husband, Earl. Aunt Dody was beaming. She had even dressed for the occasion even though she had downplayed the evening calling it an ‘informal gathering.’ We all knew as soon as we walked in that the event was a big deal because Aunt Dody had pulled out the fresh water pearls that her mother had handed down to her. Between that and the crab salad we quickly realized she was putting on the dog.

After we had toasted the couple with pink champagne (I had apple juice, uck) we all sat around discussing the options for their honeymoon destination. Sand, sun, Hugh’s shirtless chest in front of a setting Hawaiian sun. I was down with that conversation. It was all good. Until, of course, the conversation drifted into what lingerie Darcy was considering for her wedding night. Then the entire conversation became unbearably uncomfortable. Even Hugh shifted in his seat and tried to change the subject. Always having the ability to escape into the recesses of my creative mind, I chose instead to allow my thoughts to drift back to Hugh’s naked chest. (Oh yes, much more pleasant territory.) Maybe Darcy witnessed my eyes lower to his perfectly muscled pecs, which were easily admired through his tight, navy blue, t-shirt because that was when she chose to deliver her unnecessary and venomous insult. She quickly dropped the lingerie topic, which way-too-descriptively shared her choice of white lace, La Perla and began complaining to her friends and not all that discreetly (meaning she wanted me to know she was coerced into including me in the bridal party) that she had no idea who I was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Maybe she could spiff up her mama’s ironing board. Needless to say, that was a dig. One in a string of many that had been getting more and more deliberately hurtful over the course of time.

This specific insult was referring to the difficulty in finding a perfect match to my figureless body. It’s not like she was bringing something to my attention that I hadn’t been acutely aware of already. I was completely self-conscious of my flat chest and curve less body without her pointing it out every time she saw me. Seriously? What teenage female would want to be as flat as a pancake? But there wasn’t all that much I could do about it at sixteen. Some of my friends were there but not me. My mother just said that I was a late bloomer. Just like her sister, Isabeau. When I looked at Aunt Isabeau I saw a woman with beautiful curves. It was hard to believe that she was ever flat anywhere.

Hearing Darcy’s derogatory remark and the chorus of chuckles that accompanied Hugh became visibly enraged. His eyes squinted and his nostrils flared in response to Darcy’s deliberate jab as if hearing it pained him personally. Then he instantly came to my defense, “Leave her alone, Darcy!” His tone was unyielding.

I wasn’t sure why he did it but he truthfully was the nicest guy I had ever met. What he was doing with Darcy was one of those mysteries that would never be solved. Darcy rolled her eyes but thankfully stopped the onslaught. She certainly had the capability of continuing. She had done it an innumerable number of times before.

Hugh quickly showed up by my side. He bumped my shoulder with his and gave me a tight smile. “Don’t pay Darcy any mind. She’s just jealous,” he murmured so only I could hear.

I was so mortified Hugh had heard what Darcy said that I couldn’t respond to his reasoning. But, obviously Hugh had no idea what he was talking about. Why the hell would Darcy be jealous of me? She was pretty, popular, stacked and had the most wonderful fiancé in the world. As complete embarrassment consumed me, I crossed my arms over my flat chest hoping to hide what wasn’t there and did my best to exercise my ability to evaporate into thin air. It didn’t matter that it never worked before. Given the circumstances, it couldn’t hurt to try.

As my vision focused on the image coming toward me, I awoke from my reminiscent nightmare. I watched in the mirror as Angela emerged from the back room waddling in my direction holding a hideous purple cap in her clutches. My eyes squinted unable to believe what I was seeing. It looked like it belonged on a circus monkey.

“Holy shit, is that a parrot?” I breathed as I was figuring the entire saga was about to take a turn for the unbelievably god-awful. That dreadful hat was about to find a home on the top of my head. Parrot and all.

“It’s a blue bird,” the woman answered still coming toward me.

Junior bridesmaid, my ass. I was slowly being turned into a chump. Or maybe it was a chimp.

“God help me,” I closed my eyes and prayed.

This wedding was going to be the death of me.

Chapter 1

Darcy Strong, the bride-to-be, and her bridesmaids were very well known in our community. I guess one could say that they had a reputation. They had many actually. The one that spread like wildfire was the one announcing that they were easily ‘accessed.’

Even I knew what that meant.

The other which didn’t take much longer to get around was that they were a bunch of bitches.

That I knew first hand.

So being in her bridal party was something I could definitely do without. But her mother and my mother had been friends since they were kids. I even called her mother Aunt Dody even though she was not related by blood. So when news came that Darcy was getting married, my mother was Aunt Dody’s first phone call. I remember the squeals like they were still ringing in my ears. Darcy’s would be the first wedding between our families. It would probably be the only wedding for Aunt Dody. Aunt Dody had one other child, a son named Derwood, but he moved out to California as soon as he graduated high school and had officially declared that he was asexual.

That one I had to look up.

So Darcy’s wedding was a big deal between the Strong and Welling households. If I never grew breasts Darcy’s might be the last.

My mother had picked me up straight from school and dropped me off at Angela’s Bridal Emporium. That was over two very long hours ago. After taking a few moments trying to figure out what made a little shop into an emporium, I was bored and starving. The flower girl had been fitted. She went first because she was young and impatient. I was young and impatient but since I didn’t start playing hide and seek under all of the expensive wedding dresses upon entering the boutique, they didn’t care. The bridesmaids went next. There were four of them. Only one took up a lot of time. Apparently she had insisted on them ordering a size four dress because that would give her incentive to lose the weight that she had put on her first year at college. Something about a freshman fifteen. All I know is that she didn’t look any thinner than the last time I saw her and the seamstresses were in a full-blown sweat by the time they were done with her. I heard the silver haired seamstress, who I was guessing was Angela’s sister, say ‘Madonna me’ about a thousand times. By the time they got to me they looked downright haggard. At the sight of me they both threw their arms out to the sides as if someone had delivered a fresh tuna to their door and they had the impossible task of fitting it for a beauty pageant. The older one actually rolled up her sleeves with agitated jerky movements. That was when my lip retreated inside my mouth for the first time. It had made many trips since then.

They had me try on several dresses after the purple episode. Luckily Angela had come to her senses soon after the ridiculous pill-cap was placed on my head. But it didn’t get much better. Next came a larger version of the flower girl’s dress but thankfully it was quickly dismissed. The older seamstress told me to take it off that all I needed was the pinwheel lollipop, pigtails and white ruffled socks. Then they brought out a dark blue gown with a bronze sequined bodice. Those were the bridesmaids’ dresses. The older seamstress and Angela crossed their arms simultaneously shaking their heads. A huge sigh escaped me as they studied me trying to figure out what the heck to do with me.

“What if we just shorten the bridesmaid’s dress? Really short,” the older of the two seamstresses suggested.

“Nah,” Angela said shaking her head. She was perfectly round and had a very thick Italian-American accent. “She’s-a got those-a tooth-a picks for legs. She-a look-a like she try to wear her mama’s clothes. No good.”

I looked into the mirror and tried to mimic the scowl on Angela’s face not because I wanted to make fun of her but because I wasn’t sure if the muscles in my face could contort my mouth the way that her muscles were able to contort hers. No matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t do it. Apparently she wasn’t just a talented seamstress she was also a very good facial contortionist as well.

“Take it off-a,” she bellowed. “We try anodda one.” She teetered around until she was facing the other direction. She reminded me of one of the toys I used to play with as a kid that refused to tip over no matter how many times you flicked it. She swayed from side to side gaining an inch at a time with every quarter step she took. She finally disappeared behind the green and white, checkered curtain about fifteen minutes later.

Another huge sigh expelled from my lungs and my shoulders got in on the action drooping so low I was almost in the shape of a ‘c.’

“Maybe if she stood up straight.” The older one didn’t even attempt to muffle her sarcastic response to the dilemma.

Angela came back with another dress. It was also dark blue with a cap sleeve and a square neckline. It had pleats at the waist with an excessive amount of tulle under the flared skirt. My face brightened because it had potential. It was the best I had seen even though it had so much tulle I probably would look like Thumbelina. I stepped into the dress and the older seamstress zipped me up. I turned to look in the mirror with hope in my expression. I could see Angela’s face reflected in the mirror. She was still wearing the scowl.

Then my body jumped at her outburst, which, by the way, was said with perfect fluency.

“We need the lamb chops!” she exclaimed throwing one pointed finger in the air.

“Lamb Chops?” I couldn’t control the quiver that accompanied my words.

“Si,” she answered. “We balance, we balance,” she tried to explain. Her hand went up to my head and down to my toes.

Balance.

Needless to say, I was a little nervous about wearing lamb chops. The only lamb chops I had ever heard of, other than the delicacy my Aunt Isabeau tried to impress us with one Christmas without success, were side burns. Grandma Bertha loved Elvis, the King of Rock and Roll. She used to stare at the cover of his Greatest Hits Album saying how she would have loved the opportunity to run her fingers up and down his lamb chops. I wasn’t quite sure what the attraction was but to Grandma they were something else. And I had to admit, those hairy suckers would definitely distract from my Thumbelina dress but it wasn’t what I had in mind when I visualized bridal accessories. Pearls maybe. Lamb chops no.

The older seamstress continued to stare clearly unconvinced that even facial hair could do the trick. She stuck her arm straight out in front of her as if she was about to make another suggestion but then dropped her arm and her suggestion. She shook her head again already concluding in her own mind that whatever she was thinking wasn’t going to work.

Angela came back into the room still gaining more ground from side to side than she did in forward momentum.

“Eh! Here we go.” Her fingers held a beige jelly form in each hand. They looked like chicken cutlets that had been cooked in the microwave. “Lamb chops,” she reiterated.

Fearing the worst, I verbalized the question that burned in my throat. “Oh Dear Lord, you don’t expect me to wear those on my face, do you?” I asked faintly.

The silver haired Angela shook her head. Then she manhandled her own well-endowed breasts lifting them up and down to illustrate where she thought the rubber form replicas of protein should go. Distracted by the size of her generous endowments, it occurred to me that if Angela could only share an eighth from each of her breasts I would be in good shape. That woman was well endowed.

I came back to the moment as Angela snapped her fingers in my face. “Eh!” she scolded. “Ha capito?”

My eyes focused once again and went straight to the hands that she outstretched in front of me. She cupped the lamb chops in her partially open palms gesturing for me to take them. I took a moment to stare at them curiously. Amidst my daydream of breast envy I had apparently missed her demonstration on the proper application of lamb chops. Then the light bulb went on above my head and then it all became crystal clear. The excitement that was erupting inside of me was formidable. I don’t think I have ever been that enthusiastic about anything in my entire life. I grabbed the two patties and shoved them down my dress. The only problem was I wasn’t wearing a bra. I had on a cami with a built in elastic shelf but it was basically just an extra piece of material. So the falsies were holding true to their name. They looked false. Angela’s nose crinkled at the sight and then she was on the move. She invaded my personal space sticking her fingers in the top of my dress and jerking it away from my body.

“You-a no have a bra in there?” she peered in on her tippy toes.

I looked down with her as if one may have miraculously appeared at some juncture in the day when I wasn’t looking. I confirmed what she and I both didn’t see by pressing my lips into a straight line and shaking my head.

“No good,” she mumbled another ‘Madonna me’ clearly unhappy with my choice of undergarments. “I be back!” She waved her hand in the air as she teeter-tottered back and forth once again disappearing behind the curtain.

Angela’s cohort came closer to the pedestal where I was standing and maneuvered the three-way mirror so she could go behind it. Apparently she had an idea. As the reflective image of the mirror shifted I heard her saying something about getting me some high heels. I guess she thought my already skinny ‘toothpick’ legs needed lengthening.

Whatever.

I stopped listening to her blabbering when my eyes focused on the image that the adjusted mirror had settled on. It was Darcy across the street standing outside of the Soup’s On Diner. She was squared off with a guy who looked really angry. She didn’t look too happy either. Her arms were crossed over her chest and one of her denim-clad hips was thrown to the side. I turned my head to look out the window to get a better look but I couldn’t see her from that vantage point. The only way I could see her was to look at the reflection in the mirror. I tipped forward and squinted my eyes hoping to recognize the guy she was with but I could only see his profile. He looked sort of familiar but I just wasn’t sure. It definitely wasn’t the love of my life, Hugh Rowen. Just as I was about to step off of the pedestal to walk to the window Angela came back. She was carrying a little box.

“Eh, here we go,” she licked her lips awkwardly as she opened the box and pulled out a bra.

“Um, Ms. Angela, I doubt that would fit me,” I informed her. I had tried on many a bra in the past year looking forward to the day that I was able to fill one out.

“No, no, no. You try. It’s good.” She seemed confident. So I took it from her hand repeating the word ‘pliable’ in my head and let out an enormous sigh.

“Okay,” I stepped off the pedestal deliberately peeking out the window where Darcy had just been standing but she was gone. I inhaled deeply and made my way to the dressing room to put the bra under my dress. All the time I couldn’t get the image of the guy that Darcy was with out of my mind. Why did I know him?

I slid the bra straps up my arms hooking it in the back and pushed my arms back through the sleeves of the dress. It wasn’t too loose so I figured it might all work out. I made my way back to the pedestal just as Angela handed me the lamb chops.

She demonstrated on herself how I should slide the chops into my bra. Fear gripped my chest that she was going to start feeling me up if I placed them in wrong. My eyes studied her hands as I mimicked her movements inserting the chops in the cups. Either I was doing it right or Angela had boundaries.

“Meravigliosa!” she exclaimed. I wasn’t sure what that word meant but I could tell by the celebratory way she pumped her hands that she was happy. “Lovely,” she said gripping me with both hands by the biceps and turning me toward the mirror. “Balance,” she whispered as her eyes followed mine up and down my body.

The air left my lungs in surprise. I had boobs. And the best part was they didn’t look like lamb chops.

“Woohoo!” I celebrated turning to throw my arms around a surprised Angela. “Thank you,” I whispered in her ear.

“Prego,” Angela answered. I was assuming that meant ‘you’re welcome.’

I was in my bedroom when I heard the phone ring. Our home wasn’t enormous so we could pretty much hear everything that was going on from one room to the next. That included my bedroom. I heard my mother answer the phone and quickly dive into a desperate conversation. I heard her breathe a ‘what’ and a ‘how and an ‘oh my Lordy be.’ Those words were never a good sign in the Welling household. So I suddenly feigned thirst and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I entered the room I saw my mother lean forward with deepened concern pressing her elbows onto the kitchen table.

“What are you going to do?” my mother asked with a hint of panic. Of course I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation but I was hoping I could Sherlock Holmes my way through the jibber jabber to figure out what was going on.

“How far along?” my mother inquired. “Oh,” she breathed with a hint of drama. I saw my mother start to count on her fingers. “That’s cutting it close, Dody. Maybe you should call the catering hall and move up the date.” Then I saw my mother reach for her datebook which sat on the opposite counter and start paging ahead.

“Okay. Well let me know. Poor thing. She must be so upset, bless her heart.”

I sucked in breath at hearing those three words. ‘Bless her heart’ meant things were worse than I even surmised. That meant a rumor was spreading and it was spreading faster than wildfire. It also meant that the rumor was probably not a rumor at all. My mother was so engrossed in her conversation that she didn’t hear me inhale all of the available oxygen in the room.

Darcy was pregnant.

Pregnant.

My mind went straight back to the events I witnessed earlier in the day. Something about that confrontation Darcy had with that definitely-not-Hugh guy just didn’t sit right with me. My mouth contorted at the thought, not like Angela’s but close. That’s how much I could feel it in my gut. Darcy was pregnant but the baby was not Hugh’s. I left the kitchen with a quick but quiet step. I hurried to my room and went straight for my computer. I Skyped my best friend, Julia.

“Hey,” she answered. Julia was sitting at the computer in her bedroom. I knew this because I could see her bright tangerine comforter in the background.

“O.M.G.” I spelled out. “I have to tell you something. But you have to swear on all that is sacred that you won’t tell another soul for the rest of our lives,” I started.

“Dee, Dee, Dee,” she sighed heavily disgruntled that she needed to share her wisdom again, “we have gone over this a thousand times. Caffeine does not make you grow excessive pubic hair. Drink all the coffee you want it’s not that kind of stimulant.” Always the drama queen, she threw her body back and slouched in her bright pink chair. Apparently she found my theorizing exhausting.

“No, no, no. That’s not what I am talking about. And just so you know. That could still be true. That has not been disproven. Anyway, this is much bigger news,” I confirmed.

I saw Julia straighten her posture and lean forward toward the computer. I nodded affirming that the news was big enough that it warranted her full attention. “And?” she began.

“Do you swear to…” Julia cut me off.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…all that is sacred,” she raised her eyebrows prompting me to go on.

I knew deep down I shouldn’t be sharing the news but Julia knew how deep my love for Hugh Rowen ran. And, for goodness sake, I had to tell someone. “Darcy Strong is pregnant and the baby isn’t Hugh’s,” I whispered.

“Holy crap,” she barked.

“Shhhhhh,” I scolded.

“How do you know this?” Julia was looking for some sort of proof. It was understandable. I tended to come up with some pretty crazy scenarios from time to time.

“Okay. So. I was at the bridal place today getting fitted for my Junior Bridesmaid dress,” Julia rolled her big blue eyes at the mention of my status, “and I saw Darcy having a verbal argument with a guy. He was waiving his hands at her. I even saw him pointing at her belly. She of course was sporting an attitude to end all attitudes – not that that says anything because she is always sporting an attitude,” Julia’s mouth twisted in agreement. “Then just a little while ago I heard my mother on the phone with her mother saying that maybe she should push up the wedding,” I nodded as if that said it all. Well didn’t it? I waited and waited for Julia’s response. Then I could tell that she caught up by the look on her face and gave me what I wanted.

“EEEEEE!” She spun out of her chair and started jumping up and down on her bed. I told you Darcy was a bitch. Even Julia knew this rumor would put a kibosh on the Strong/Rowen wedding.

I stared at the computer screen and made a face. I swallowed hard as I was beginning to get motion sickness. “Can you stop jumping? You’re making me sick,” I shared.

“Holy crap, Dee, this is huge!” she squealed her response and dropped to her ass on the bed.

“I know but, Jules, you can not tell a soul. You promised,” I reiterated even though I was happy that she shared my enthusiasm.

“I know. I won’t tell a soul. Double cross my heart with my friendship-ring-finger.” Then she double-crossed her heart with her finger that sported her friendship ring.

Whew!

“Now what do we do?” I asked naively.

“We watch her get served,” she educated.

I nodded enthusiastically agreeing that Darcy deserved to be served. But served what, I wasn’t quite sure.

As expected a few days later the news hit that the Strong/Rowen wedding was going to be moved up. Needless to say this was not the outcome I was hoping for. Lots of speculation circulated but I knew the true story. That specific morsel of information and a bus transfer would get me cross-town. But I kept my mouth shut because I figured the news would come out on its own. Another tidbit Mama selflessly shared was that ‘all the dirty laundry came out in the wash.’ I had no idea how this advice applied to social life lessons but I understood enough that she was trying to tell me that it was always best to keep quiet. So, naturally, I followed my wise mother’s sage advice.

Since the wedding was approaching faster than we had initially anticipated, Mama informed me that I had to go back to Angela’s so she could do some final alterations on my dress. I just nodded at her when she shared my after school plans. Her eyebrows pinched together as she questioned why I didn’t give her any lip. I knew that look so I answered her with my own easily translated physical response of shrugging my shoulders, which communicated to her that I had accepted my fate.

The ride to town was mostly silent. Like most of our car rides, I stared out the window and she asked me pertinent questions like ‘did you remember your shoes’ and ‘do you need any fresh make-up from the drug store.’ I answered accordingly but didn’t share much more. My mother pulled up in front of the boutique and I swung my door open.

“Pick you up in an hour,” she alerted me.

“Okay, Mama. See you in a bit,” I answered. I slammed the car door and took a single step back on the curb. I watched as she drove away and I gave a little wave. That’s when I felt the tap on my shoulder. Slightly startled, I spun my head to see who was standing there. Much to my horror, my quick head snap inadvertently whipped the love of my life in the eyes with the long strands of my brown hair, which was held high in a ponytail. Then, unable to believe the magnitude of my bad luck, I gasped in horror.

For some strange reason, after my sudden sharp inhale, the air in my lungs refused to leave my body. My heart began to beat faster and thumped a bizarre rhythm.

“You alright, Junior?” Hugh asked rubbing both of his eyes with the thumb and pointer finger of one hand.

I nodded frantically hoping my paralyzed lungs would kick in and fast. He raised his eyebrows and blinked uncontrollably while one side of his mouth shared the most beautiful grin I had ever seen.

“I’m okay,” I managed. My voice was a cross between a squeak and a whisper.

“Good. Can’t lose my only Junior Bridesmaid,” he added.

I shook my head agreeing. “That would be a shame,” I struggled.

“For certain.” Then I think he winked at me but it could have been the residual effects of the corneal damage that I had just inflicted.

Luckily, even deprived of the much-needed oxygen to exercise my brain, I was able to form a coherent question in return. “Are you alright?” I finally found the ability to ask.

“I think I’ll live.” Then his smirk became a smile. And, damn, wouldn’t you know that it made him that much more gorgeous. Why did he have to get better and better looking each time I saw him? It just wasn’t fair.

“I, um, have to, um, go,” I shared on a shiver.

“Mmm,” he agreed. “Go on, Junior. Go get prettier,” he teased.

I stared at him in shock. I would have sworn he said prettier, which would mean that he thought I was already pretty. Which of course was impossible. But at least I was smart enough not to argue. However, I wasn’t smart enough to keep my mouth shut entirely. “It’s, um, Delilah. You know. My name. It’s not Junior. It’s Delilah.” I don’t know what the heck I was saying. I was rambling. But I just couldn’t leave with him under the mistaken impression that my name could possibly be Junior. I stared at him waiting to see if his reaction to learning my name was as bad as I thought it was going to be.

“I know exactly who you are, Delilah,” Hugh said this in a way that somehow gave the statement greater significance. He wasn’t just saying he knew my name. I wasn’t sure if it was the inflection or the tone of his voice but somehow that one sentence struck a cord in a very nice way.

I stared at him for a few seconds blinking. I was a little unsure of how to respond. His gaze was intense and I was staring back at him in awe. All signs of the comedic name-game banter were all but gone.

Uncomfortable and unsure, I broke the spell and just nodded. “Oh, good. Cause I didn’t want you to think that my name could possibly be Junior. Not that Junior is a bad name. It’s a nice name. It’s, um, just not my name,” I added turning my hand over accentuating my point. At that point some sensibility kicked in and I realized I should make a hasty retreat. Things were digressing and fast. So I knew it was time for me to go see my good friend with an impressive scowl, Angela. It was either that or attempt to dig a hole in the sidewalk with my fingernails and bury myself in it. I turned awkwardly and robotically made my way to Angela’s front door.

I approached the double glass doors. My arm extended and my fingers gripped the door handle when I heard, “Bye, Junior.” He was smiling again. I knew he was smiling because I could hear it in his tone. Luckily my back was to him because I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity before I made my way inside.

Somewhere along the way, Angela lost her scowl. She was finally looking at me with kinder eyes, which communicated to me that she liked what she saw. I was glad because I liked what I saw, too. I stood on the pedestal in my blue dress with a little less tulle than it had started (thanks to Angela’s sheers) and perfectly balanced lamb chops. I looked amazing. Even to my own critical eyes.

“Bellissima!” Angela declared.

I didn’t have to ask what she meant. So I nodded at the vision that she had created. “Thanks to you,” I added.

Angela smiled extending her arm toward me and gestured with her fingers that I should step down from the pedestal. “Do you want to take it-a homa?” she asked.

“Si,” I answered respectfully. “How do you say ‘thank you’ in Italian, Miss Angela?” I asked looking back at her creation. But before she could answer my eyes settled on a different image in the mirror and I froze solid. Not because of how I looked. But because in the three-way reflection I saw the guy that Darcy was arguing with. But this time he wasn’t with Darcy. He was with Hugh.

“Holy shit,” I murmured.

“No, no,” Angelo shook her head. “No, holy shit,” she said with indignation. “Grazie. Grazie iz thank you in Italiano,” she corrected.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked completely forgetting that I had asked her for the Italian words that would express my gratitude.

“Grazie,” she reiterated.

“Oh, you’re welcome Angela,” I answered as I jumped from the pedestal to go quickly change my clothes. I heard a ‘Madonna me’ as I ran into the dressing room already peeling off my dress. I was in a hurry as I had finally recognized the guy that Darcy, and now Hugh, was with. There was a reason he looked so familiar. He was Hugh’s older brother. And even though I had only met him one time, I remember thinking that they didn’t look very much alike. I found out later that they weren’t full brothers. They had the same father but different mothers, which explained why they weren’t raised in the same home. But he was invited to the engagement party and he would be at the wedding. Then it occurred to me that there was a good chance he would be in the wedding party. I rubbed a hand over my brow unsure if I would be able to stand across the aisle from Hugh and his brother knowing what I knew. But what choice did I have? I didn’t have actual proof the baby wasn’t Hugh’s. There was just something about the way Darcy and…and… Ryan. That was his name. The way she and Ryan squared off. I knew in my heart of hearts that it was true. I just didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe it was time to come clean.

Chapter 2

“You can’t say a word.” I pulled the phone away from my ear as Julia snapped her gum so loudly the crack made my eyeballs momentarily lose focus.

“But…” I started.

“No buts. Zip it. Lock it down. Stuff a sock in it and keep it quiet. Do you hear me, Dee? No matter what happens. I know how to handle this shit. Trust me.”

Julia definitely had a certain kind of worldliness about her making her seem mature beyond her years but how she knew how to handle rumored-premarital-not-whose-you-think-it-is pregnancies I wasn’t sure. “No matter what you say or how you say it, you will be the bad guy. Do you want Hugh Rowen to think of you as the bad guy?”

Of course I didn’t want Hugh to think of me as the bad guy. Julia knew the answer to this question. “No,” I said forcefully. “You know I don’t.”

“Then listen to your BFF. The messenger is always the bad guy,” she shared her wisdom.

I had heard a similar phrase before, probably from my mother, so I guess she had a point. I would zip it, stuff a sock in it and keep my mouth shut. This was the plan until, of course, I totally and completely lost it at the wedding.

My eyes rolled at the sight of her. The bride sat in a pink tufted chair with her hair in rollers and a very sexy undergarment that Hugh Rowen would be removing from her curvaceous body in mere hours. She looked a little dazed as the make-up artist she had hired beckoned for her to come to the dressing table. I stood in a corner trying to get dressed where I could insert my lamb chops with no one seeing. The last thing I needed was one of Darcy’s bridal party bitches witnessing the best kept secret on the planet. Of course, no matter how hard I tried, there never seemed to be the perfect opportunity to slide those suckers inside my bra. I kept them tucked inside the bag I had packed which still had my shoes, necklace and jeweled hair clip. Just as I was about to reach into my bag to go for the gusto, the flower girl sauntered over.

“Whatchadoin’?” she asked innocently.

I stood abruptly and answered awkwardly, “Nothing. Why do you ask?” I couldn’t have presented a more suspicious front if I had tried.

The little girl gave a shoulder shrug and kept at it. “What’s in there?” She pointed to my bag.

“Nothing,” I reiterated. “Why do you ask?” I scratched my lower lip with my front teeth unsure why I was repeating myself.

The little girl shrugged again and then bent over to look in my bag. “I like make up and my mommy won’t let me wear any. So if you have some lip gloss she won’t know where I got it,” she explained as she began to dig. At that point I wanted to pull her head out of my bag by the ridiculous ponytail that her mommy had arranged way too high on the top of her head. “Here’s some!” she straightened from my bag. “And it’s pink. My favorite.” She opened the cap and smeared it all over her face. At least I knew why her mother didn’t want her wearing make-up.

“Hey now. Don’t go in my bag,” I scolded a little late in her scavenger hunt. “That’s private.”

Of course the little monster was undeterred and as if a honing device was bleeping on my lamb chops she dove back in head first with her hands going straight for them. “What are these?” she asked pulling them from the zipper.

Naturally that was the moment that the little beast’s sister decided it was time to come see what sort of havoc she was wreaking. She had been terrorizing the world since the wedding was announced but of course as soon as she found my falsies her sister had to come investigate. “Kelsey? What are you doing?” Shocked by what her little sister held in her hands she gasped so loudly that I thought an ax murderer had entered the room swinging. “Kelsey! Put those down!” she screamed.

That was when the entire bridal party turned to see what all the fuss was about. Little Kelsey held the chops high in the air and announced that she just figured out who had stolen the chicken from the rehearsal dinner the night before and she found it in my duffel bag. All this to create a diversion so no one would notice the little demon had lip-gloss smeared from ear to ear.

First I heard what I was hoping was a cough. But then I realized that it was laughter. Then came the jokes. Then came the looks. And then came Darcy Strong slowly sauntering across the room to me. “Good Lord, Delilah. What were you thinking? Everyone will know those are fake. You are as flat as a chalkboard,” she announced to the room once again. I sighed heavily grabbing my chops from the little traitor that invaded my privacy. I threw them back in my bag, tossed my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the room. It was either that or burst into tears and there was no way I would ever allow Darcy Strong to see me crying.

I finished getting ready in the bathroom where there was no little pain in the ass going through my things and no bridesmaids criticizing the way I looked. I did my own hair twisting the long brown locks this way and that so it fell in haphazard tendrils and placed my sparkly clip just where it should go. Then I shimmied closer to the mirror to check my face. I put on some more lip-gloss, luckily not as carelessly as the little monster that ravaged my bag. I brushed on a little more blush because Julia told me that a girl needed more color for pictures. And I doubled up on the mascara lengthening the lashes that framed my big green eyes. I pulled back from the mirror to take a better look. I nodded one time because even I thought I did a great job. I took another step back to see the entire picture. Not bad, I thought to myself. More importantly my chops were perfectly placed. Angela would be proud. Delilah Welling was showing up to Darcy Strong’s wedding looking her finest.

I cracked the door to the ladies room to peek outside into the hall. It was bustling. The bridesmaids were all checking each other, for what I was not sure. The groomsmen were wrangling stray wedding guests. The little monster also known as the flower girl was picking her nose. I decided to make my move praying that I would just blend into the scenery.

No such luck.

“Hey you! What did you do with all of that chicken you stole?” It was just my luck that the friggin’ hallway had not one carpet or sound absorbing object in it. The little beast’s voice was bouncing off every surface like we were in the middle of the Grand Canyon.

“Beat it, Brat, you look like the Joker,” I bent and whisper-yelled in her face.

“You’re not nice!” she yelled back pointing a finger at my nose.

So I did what any mature teenager would do. I stuck my tongue out at her.

“You’ll pay for that!” she threatened.

“Oh yeah, what are going to do? Call your best friend Elmo to come beat me up?” I straightened crossing my arms under my new lamb chops. I saw the little brats eyes lower to my chest and then back to my face. That’s when her lip-gloss smeared lips formed a smirk on her face. She turned on her heel without another word. For some reason her non-response made me really anxious.

Pachelbel’s Canon filled the wedding chapel. The Bridesmaids were peeling off one by one to walk down the aisle escorted by a Groomsman. Hugh’s brother was the last Groomsman waiting his turn to escort the Flower Girl’s sister, Hannah. But he was otherwise distracted. He didn’t know that I was watching him because his full attention was on Darcy. He pushed off the wall with a flex of the muscles in his shoulder and pressed his fingers to his forehead rubbing back and forth. Then I heard him sigh angrily. Darcy was totally consumed with her appearance to notice his demeanor. I watched as he approached her gaining her attention when he filled her space.

“Don’t start, Ryan. It’s over,” she warned.

His hands went to her hips walking her backwards to the rear wall. “Please, Darc,” he murmured. “I still want you.”

“No. You had your chance. You blew it.” She pushed him back and walked past him. When she reached me, Hannah and the little monster, she turned to look back at him. She stared at him clenching her jaw in anger and giving him the death stare. His response was to walk straight to Hannah with his eyes locked on Darcy. He attached Hannah’s gloved hand to the crook of his arm without ever tearing his gaze from Darcy.

“Let’s go,” he said to her.

Hannah looked a little confused but went with Ryan willingly. Darcy shrugged off the confrontation and jerked her chin at me to tell me to get going. She really was the consummate bitch.

Just as I turned to start my descent down the aisle, Kelsey, the little mother-fucking flower girl, threw her basket of rose petals in front of my feet. The tips of my shoes tangled in the ribbons that adorned the basket and I went down like ton of bricks. My gloved hands released the bouquet I’d been clutching a little too late in the game and were therefore unsuccessful at breaking my fall. The rest of me followed with a loud thud and a very unflattering bounce. The entire chapel gasped simultaneously. As my body impacted the ground my lamb chops sprung free from their low security prison and bounced down the aisle without me. I heard a bunch of ‘Oh my heavens’ and a few ‘What the heck were those?’ I peeked up from the floor hoping my chops were within reach but they had flown really far. My eyes continued up the aisle to find Hugh Rowen on the move in my direction.

Still sprawled out on my belly, I held my arm straight out trying to halt his progression while I yelled for him to stop.

“Nooooooooo,” I splayed my fingers to demonstrate the universal sign for ‘stop’ but he kept coming. He picked up one falsie and then took another step to get the other. As he bent to help me up I heard Darcy approach from behind. The orchestra made up of a violinist, harpist and pianist came to an audibly offensive stop and everyone stared at us in the deafening silence.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Delilah? You have been jealous of me for as long as I can remember and you would do anything to show me up at my own wedding,” her ridiculous accusation was heard by the entire congregation. She couldn’t have said it louder or clearer. Seriously. Even the crickets could be heard gasping for air at her horrifying proclamation.

“Darcy!” I heard Hugh warn but it was too late.

Unable to believe that she actually thought that I would mortify myself by tossing my lamb chops in the middle of her wedding, I turned on her abruptly. I don’t know what came over me but something enormous must have taken possession of my soul because my response was less than my usual angelic. Needless to say, Mama’s advice of remaining ‘pliable’ flew straight out the window.

“How could I show up a bride who’s pregnant with her fiancé’s brother’s baby?” As soon as the words breached my lips my hands went over my mouth. “Oh no,” I whispered.

I’m not sure how loud I said it. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just thought I said it. I turned to see if anyone had heard hoping I had only said the words in my own mind. But I quickly realized that I used my voice because there were too many jaws agape. I winced accepting that I had in fact said it aloud. I turned to get my chops from Hugh and I could see by the look in his eyes that he had definitely heard me. He looked like he had been punched in the stomach and couldn’t breathe. His beautiful lips were parted and he looked like he was in shock.

“I’m so sorry, Hugh. I never meant to hurt you,” I breathed. I witnessed his shock quickly morph into anger at the sheer betrayal of his brother and fiancé. His fists constricted around my falsies so tight they began to bulge at both ends. My eyebrows shot up at the sight fearing they were going to burst. Hugh turned to look back at his brother who was staring guiltily at his shoelaces with his hands joined together in front of his privates. The entire chapel was silent except for one demonic voice.

“I told you she stole the chicken, Mama!” My eyes slowly closed in response.

How could something so cute be so evil?

I ran out of the chapel making my hasty getaway. I felt awful about what I’d done and hurting Hugh in the process made my stomach clench. He had always been so wonderful to me and I just gutted him in front of everyone he had ever known. It didn’t take long for the tears to start to flow and I swore that I would never publicly humiliate another soul for the rest of my life. But, sadly, it was too late to take back what I’d done to Hugh. He would probably hate me forever. And, really, who could blame him?

Chapter 3

(12 years later)

“Hey, Delilah,” my doorman greeted as I entered my apartment building. As the glass door began to slowly swing closed behind me, the noise from the New York City traffic was drifting toward a muffled whirr.

I walked toward Davis with my hand extended. He reached out to take the hot cappuccino I had thoughtfully purchased for him. I loved my doorman. So including a hot beverage for him when I placed an order for myself was far from an inconvenience. “Hey, Davis. Any packages while I was out?” I asked hoping that the dress that I had ordered online had arrived as expected.

“Aw, I needed that, Dee.” He lifted the coffee to express his thanks and brought the cup to his lips for a sip. “Mmm. No, Dee. No packages,” he assured.

I pressed my lips together illustrating my disappointment and nodded at him so he knew that I had heard him. Truth be told I was a little pissed off. I had paid extra for express delivery knowing if I chose regular shipping I might not receive the dress in time.

“Thanks, Davis,” I nodded as I headed for the elevator.

“Oh!” He pointed a finger to the imaginary light bulb above his head as something dawned on him. “But there is a message.”

“A message?” I questioned as I brought the straw of my iced caramel latte to my lips.

He went behind the desk of the reception area to rest his coffee on the counter and retrieve the message. As he walked back around with the note in his hand he began to read it aloud as if I would be unable to read it myself. Fairly inappropriate in a normal doorman/resident relationship but Davis and I were more. We were friendly. He would ask me advice about women and I would ask him to please stop asking for my advice about women. It was all in good fun. Until of course he started reading my note. “Hello, Junior….”

Davis quickly stopped reading so he could step closer to begin a series of slaps on my back. I was unable to stop the choking episode that had begun as soon as the word Junior breached his lips. “Delilah, are you okay?” he asked with concern.

I couldn’t speak clearly but I had to ask the question. “Did you...” Cough, cough, “say…” Cough, cough, cough, cough. “Junior?” Cough, cough, cough, cough.

Davis looked back at the note in order to confirm that it was in fact addressed to Junior. He looked concerned that he might set another coughing jag in motion and all for no good reason if he had been mistaken.

“That’s what it says,” he stated insecurely with a complimentary shoulder shrug.

“Oh my God, Davis.” I ripped the note from his hands and tried to focus my eyes which had started to spiral like those cartoon characters I used to watch when I was little. I pulled the paper closer and farther from my face trying to find a comfortable distance where I could read it conclusively.

I read the note aloud. “Hello, Junior. It’s been twelve long years. I’m in town for a meeting but I wanted to stop by to see you. Hope all is well.” I turned the paper over hoping that there was some sort of hidden message written on the other side. But there was nothing. Davis looked at the note and then at me and then back to the note and again back to me.

“Delilah?” He asked hoping for an explanation.

I faced Davis deliberately looking straight into his eyes. I slapped the note that was in my right hand against his bicep and fisted it with the material of his polyester jacket. My left hand mirrored my right but probably gripped a whole lot of arm hair with the tight hold I executed rivaling that of a silver back gorilla. Then I started shaking him violently. “Did you see him, Davis?”

“No, Delilah. I was out at lunch. Giancarlo was filling in for me,” he explained while his hat rocked back and forth on his head from my violent shaking.

“Damn it.” I released his jacket but still fisted the note and slapped it against my thigh. Then for some strange reason my fight or flight instinct kicked in just as panic consumed me. Since I couldn’t justify beating the crap out of Davis for no apparent reason, (though with all the adrenalin coursing through my veins there was a good chance I could take him) the flight impulse took over. I had to flee. “I have to go,” I breathed. “Thank you, Davis.”

“B…but,” he held up his hand as if there was something else he needed to tell me. I didn’t give him the chance. I ran for the interior set of doors. His voice deflated instead. “Oh. Ok. H, h, have a great night, Delilah,” he called to me as he buzzed me through.

A great night? I was lucky if I didn’t have a heart attack.

I threw myself against the wall of the elevator as it slowly made the ascent to my floor and felt my skin flush. I un-crumpled the note and looked at it again convincing myself that I must have missed something. I turned it over again hoping that there was a signature or something that would tell me that it was definitely Hugh Rowen, the long lost love of my life that left this cryptic note. I slapped it against my thigh again punishing both it and myself when there were still no identifying markers. It had to be him. No one, no one who wanted to continue breathing without medical assistance would dare call me Junior. I was like one of those assassins in a Hollywood movie and Junior was my trigger word. But how the hell did he know where I lived and what possessed him to stop by?

I ruined his life.

Me.

Delilah Jean Welling.

Yes, I was a kid.

Yes, in the long run I probably did him a favor. But there was no two ways about it. I changed the course of his life that fateful day and I had no business doing it.

I fumbled with my keys trying to enter my apartment. Twelve years. Twelve years had gone by since I had last spoken to Hugh Rowen. The day I ruined his wedding I ran home with my tail between my legs and buried myself under a very feminine, down comforter in my bedroom. I stayed there for days never emerging except for a few mini chocolate chip muffins, water and bathroom breaks, of course. My mother finally had to call Julia to come over and organize an extraction. It took Julia hours to convince me that my life wasn’t over. I emerged slowly repeating her mantra. ‘My life is not over, my life is not over.’

But she was wrong.

It was.

Not because anyone in town held my unabashed announcement against me. Honestly, there were plenty of folks who were happy to see Darcy go down in flames and finally get what she had coming for quite a while. But because I couldn’t forgive myself for the relationship that I had decimated. And no. Not the relationship between Darcy and Hugh. Sooner or later the secret Darcy was keeping would have unraveled their relationship on its own. Secrets like that never stayed hidden. But there was another relationship my unsolicited outburst had affected. Mama and Aunt Dody’s.

Aunt Dody never spoke to my mother again. She blamed Mama for telling me about Darcy’s ‘situation’ even though she had sworn her to secrecy. Of course that wasn’t the case. I had figured out all the sorted details by myself but Aunt Dody was angry and wouldn’t listen to anyone who tried to explain. It probably didn’t help that Aunt Dody learned of the real baby-daddy on her daughter’s wedding day. Thanks to me. So even though I had ruined someone’s wedding, I was more upset about the damage I had done to the relationship that my mother had cultivated for almost her entire life. Mama tried to make me feel better. She told me that if Dody would think something so awful of her then she wasn’t a real friend anyway. But the fact that she had to come to that realization at all had to be devastating and that was all on me.

The Wellings weathered all of the village repartee that followed the non-wedding. But to say that it was uncomfortable would be an understatement. There was an awful lot of finger pointing in the produce section of our local supermarket and going to church had me in a sweat every Sunday. I would see Hugh in town from time to time but always at a distance. The thought of facing him was so terrifying that I would turn and skitter off long before he saw me. It didn’t take long for Darcy to go back to Ryan. A few months later they announced they would be married. Their daughter was born, Dolly, and they were planning a small wedding ceremony in the Caribbean somewhere.

Once my brother and I graduated from high school my mom and dad moved to Florida. They always wanted to live on the Gulf and there wasn’t much left for them in the small country town in Southern Virginia. After I graduated from college I immediately found a job in New York City. I kept in touch with my BFF, Julia. She kept me abreast of all of the important morsels of information from my hometown. She would tell me stories about old friends and classmates. But more importantly, she would keep me up to date on Hugh’s dating status, which was really the only tidbit of information I was waiting for her to share. Oddly, he was rarely seen with the same woman twice unless you were counting his little niece, Dolly. According to Julia, they reportedly had developed quite a bond and she was the only female he doted on. Julia said after his experience with Darcy, he probably had trust issues. I had to admit, Julia did have her thumb on the pulse of all of the goings-on in town.

Eventually Julia was able to turn the combination of her thick skin and talent of spinning a story into a full fledge career. After she graduated from the local university she started writing a gossip column. So much for following her own advice of never being the messenger. Her public announcements were the source of many grapevines and delivered to the masses twice a week in the Community Section of the local newspaper.

I finally managed to open the door to my apartment and as soon as I hit the light switch my phone started ringing. I was so jittery that I actually threw myself up against my front door as if the phone was going to jump me. Then I realized I should probably see who was calling. I threw my keys on my little ice cream table and picked up the portable out of its cradle to check the caller ID. Julia Harper. I pressed talk on the handset.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Holy Beheebees, Dee. You will never guess what I just heard,” she stated.

“Hugh Rowen is in New York and he is going to stop by to see me?” I asked pulling the bizarre news out of not-so-thin air.

“Uh oh,” she responded.

“Yeah. Uh oh,” I answered.

There was a brief pause before her outburst. “So? Don’t keep me waiting,” she said with irritation as if this whole scenario was somehow impacting her world directly.

“You tell me! I just got an obscure note from my doorman,” I answered with a hint of hostility. “Who’s the big wig that runs the gossip column down there? You or me?” I added.

“Now, now, now Delilah,” her defenses sprung into action. “I just heard this from Tiffy Johanson. Obviously he was keeping this visit on the down-low or I would have heard sooner,” she explained.

Tiffy who had shortened her name from Tiffany worked at the gift shop in town. “How did Tiffany Johanson find out that Hugh was coming to see me in New York?” I questioned.

“She’s marrying Griff,” she answered as if that explained things clearly. I remained silent because I failed to see how her marrying Griff gave her intimate knowledge of Hugh’s travel plans. When I didn’t answer she continued. “Griff Douglas is a travel agent.”

I sighed heavily. “Still not following, Jules,” I complained.

“He is the travel agent that handles all of the travel plans for Hugh’s company,” she added petulantly.

Ah. Now it made sense. “Well someone ought to tell Griff that he needs to report back to the town crier a little more quickly next time,” I scolded.

“He doesn’t report to me!” Clearly Julia was getting offended that I didn’t know how news traveled on the grape vine. “I dig for my information! You think it’s easy unearthing all of this shit on people?” Obviously someone was a little touchy about the trials and tribulations of her work.

“I was talking about Tiff.” Then I started laughing out loud inexplicably.

Clearly confused with my newfound discovery of humor on the subject, Julia asked me what was so funny.

“Tiff is marrying Griff,” I answered laughing through my rhyme.

“Seriously? Can we focus please?” Julia had other things on her mind.

I wrapped up my hysteria and forged on. “I don’t know anything else. I just got the note and stepped into my apartment when you called.”

I heard Julia sigh really loudly. Clearly she was frustrated that I didn’t have any juicy details to offer her.

“Well look at the bright side,” I continued. “At least now I know for sure that it was Hugh.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with confusion outlining her tone. “You just said you got a note from him.”

“He didn’t sign the note,” I responded in turn. “I thought maybe it was Darcy coming for her slice of revenge.”

“I don’t get it. How could you know for sure that it is the one and only Hugh Rowen who left you the message if he didn’t sign the note?”

“Because the opening line of the message that was left with my doorman said ‘Hello, Junior,’” I explained.

“Oh, Dear Lord. He hasn’t forgotten,” she breathed.

Was she crazy? “Of course he didn’t forget!” I reprimanded. “You don’t forget the person who announced that your brother is your fiancés baby daddy in the middle of your wedding ceremony!” I continued my rant. “I mean holy shit, Julia. What are you thinkin’?” For some reason the hint of southern accent that I had abandoned years ago infiltrated my speech.

“Don’t you sass me, Delilah!” Julia didn’t like when I got testy. It was okay for her to get testy. Actually she was always testy. She said that was just the way she talked. Either way she was never fond of being on the receiving end of anyone else’s testiness.

I blew out a long breath through pursed lips directed at my ceiling hoping to calm myself down. Clearly I was losing what little control I had left. My eyes honed in on the newfound crack that I had never noticed before emanating from the corner just outside of the molding and traveling to the center almost to the light fixture. It was probably from the new tenant upstairs who jumped rope like an elephant. If he didn’t come through the ceiling soon it would be a miracle. I inhaled deeply unhappy with the crack that with my luck would eventually come out of my security deposit and the lack of information that Julia was able to provide.

It didn’t take long for the melancholy thoughts in my head to infiltrate my mood. Then I began to reprimand myself for how quickly I allowed my self-loathing to take flight. Then I began the familiar process of accepting the yet-undetermined-but-likely-ill-fated outcome. The process came full circle when I became annoyed with myself at how quickly I was allowing myself to deteriorate.

So typical of me.

Every molecule of air left my lungs on a huge sigh. “What am I going to do, Jules? I mean…I made a complete ass out of myself the last time I saw him. Let’s not forget that I made an ass out of him too. What can I possibly say to him now?” Julia could hear the sheer hopelessness in my voice.

“Delilah, do you hear yourself? You are a sad sack! If Hugh Rowen didn’t want to see you all he had to do was not come to your apartment. Not that I’ve ever received my hand engraved.”

It must be said that I had invited her to come visit me when I first moved north and she said emphatically that she hated big cities. But obviously it bothered her that I hadn’t asked her since because she mentioned every time I spoke to her. So, Julia being Julia, she had to make sure she slipped that in yet again.

“But from what I’ve heard New York City is prêt-ty large. My understanding is that you would never know that he was there.” Julia was a good friend and more importantly she was the sanity to my insanity. She was right. There was no way that I would know that Hugh Rowen was visiting if he hadn’t stopped by and left me a note. “Am I wrong?” she asked knowing she wasn’t.

“No. You’re right,” I answered still afflicted with weighty disappointment.

“Delilah. What the hell is wrong with you?” She questioned. “Hugh Rowen went to New York City, searched you out and left you a note to tell you that he went out of his way to see you. You should be jumping for joy. It’s not like you ever got over the man,” she added passionately.

“Must you rub it in?” I sighed.

“Well someone has to. Wake up,” she admonished.

Once again, she was right. I should be the happiest Virginian in New York. But I’d never forgiven myself for what happened the day of Hugh’s non-wedding. So I was unable to understand how he could have possibly moved on and done so without detesting every bone in my body. Then it occurred to me. Maybe he was visiting with retribution in mind. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it.

Chapter 4

I woke up exhausted. If I slept a total of three hours it was a lot. I kept tossing and turning all night thinking about Hugh. Julia was right. I never did get over the man. He was my end all be all. Every guy I met, and I had met a few nice ones, I unfairly compared to Hugh. Guys I met in college were habitually classified as strictly friend material. A few men I met while living in New York had the honor of graduating to dating status but no one, not one, compared in my mind to the incredible Hugh Rowen. So they never even scratched the surface to my heart.

The last guy, Carson, had a reputation at work for being a womanizer. One could say that he’d been around the PR floor a couple of times. I knew this about him but he was also really hot. So I made an exception and even put in a modicum of effort. Clearly those efforts were not exercised with enough fervor because Carson was still able to detect the ‘I don’t give a shit’ vibe that unintentionally emanated from me. My capricious attitude in his mind was worthy of retaliation, which I found out with his announcement in front of half of the staff in the coffee lounge. “Do you even care that I just fucked your partner in the utility closet?”

What bothered me more was that I found out that my partner was a back stabbing snake. I didn’t tell Carson that, though. So I responded with a shoulder shrug, a heavy sigh, a headshake and a facial expression that outlined my lack of affectedness. He could have fucked a thousand women on his coffee break and I would have jumped right on those thank you notes outlining my appreciation for saving me the trouble. It would have been one less obligation in our meaningless relationship as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t trying to be cruel but there was no way I could explain to him that he didn’t and could never measure up to the amazing Hugh Rowen. Which circled my thoughts back to my current dilemma. Why would the most perfect man in the world ever search out a loose-lipped-wedding-annihilator like Delilah Welling twelve years after I ruined his life? I threw back the covers on my bed and dragged my ass to the shower. Brutal.

Feeling already drained, I lingered in the shower longer than usual trying to revive my exhausted body. I dressed for work in the first thing that I could reach in my closet and stopped at my ice cream table to write myself a note to call the online store where I had ordered my dress. My partner and I had a corporate function to attend Friday for our biggest client. This only left me one day to locate my rush order so I had something to wear. I wasn’t too concerned about it fitting. I had worn that designer before and I knew I filled out a size four perfectly. That was of course if I could get it in my possession. Mom had been right all those years ago. I finally grew breasts once I was there. Of course getting there seemed to take forever. But it was almost like they grew overnight because one morning I woke up and I had full B’s. I even had the stretch marks to go with them. I never did grow hips. But Julia told me hips were overrated. I didn’t necessarily agree with her. I always thought hips gave a woman sex appeal. But she said that she had them so she should know. All things considered, I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. At least I grew something.

I tapped the ‘down’ button to call the elevator. Yes, it was already lit. And, yes, I knew it wouldn’t deliver the elevator any faster. But I did it anyway. The doors parted a few moments later where I found two residents inside. One I didn’t know at all. The other was Mrs. Norris who I had house/kitty sat for a few weeks prior.

“Good morning, Mrs. Norris.” I smiled at her and nodded to the other woman who I didn’t know.

“Oh, good morning, Delilah.” She said rather enthusiastically given the early hour. “Nice to see you again.” She clasped her hands together under her chin. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” her knees bent slightly with her announcement.

“Oh?” I questioned. “Everything okay with Winnie?” My eyebrows went up hoping the fat cat I sat for was okay.

“Oh, yes, Dear. Winchester is just fine,” she assured. “I found some treats I didn’t recognize in my cupboard. I asked Gina, my housekeeper, but she said she didn’t buy them. Winchester just loves them and I am running out.” Mrs. Norris was clearly in knots over the vanishing treats for her beloved Winchester.

“Oh, it was me,” I confessed with a little raise of my hand. “I got them at a pet shop near my office. I can pick some up for you if you’d like?” It really wasn’t any trouble. Winchester was a sweet cat and it gave me an excuse to go see the teacup puppies in the window. So cute.

“Oh, no thank you, Delilah. But if you don’t mind I would like the address. I have been looking for a new collar for little Winnie. I thought maybe I would take a ride and browse around.”

I don’t know what Mrs. Norris saw when she looked at Winchester but he was far from little. As a matter of fact he was larger than most of the dogs in the building.

“It’s on Broadway. Between 18^th and 19^th I think.”

As soon as the elevator doors opened, the other woman whom I didn’t know stepped out. I held out my hand for Mrs. Norris to go ahead.

“Thank you, Delilah.”

“No problem,” I smiled. Mrs. Norris and the other woman made a right toward the mailboxes as I hightailed it toward the front door.

On my way out I saw my doorman, Davis. As soon as he caught sight of me he raced toward the front doors of the apartment to summon a cab for me like he did every morning whether I needed one or not. If I were walking he would shoo them away like they had mistaken his hand signals. But given the exhaustion I was feeling, I thanked him accepting the cab and asked if he could keep an eye out for the Fedex guy. I really was desperate for my package. He responded with his usual, “You got it, Dee. Have a good one.”

It was a chilly morning, which translated into a lot less people walking to work. This put a lot more cars on the road, which backed up traffic significantly. After a few blocks of bumper-to-bumper traffic and an excessive amount of cursing on my part and horn blaring on the cab driver’s, I sized up the congestion and decided I would be better off going on foot. I paid the taxi driver and jumped out of the yellow cab with another ten blocks in front of me. I must have put an extra spring in my step because I still made it to my office building in record time. Normally, if I had an extra minute, I would stop and get coffee before I went up to my office. As luck would have it I had more than one extra minute, I had ten. But brisk walking didn’t add up to ten extra minutes. I had been working at this public relations firm since I graduated college and had my commute down to a science. The only thing that I could figure was that my Hugh Rowen Surprise obviously had me finishing my morning routine and on my way out the door a little earlier than usual. Lord knows I hadn’t slept a wink. I walked to the coffee shop that was tucked away behind the escalators in the rear of the lobby. They had the usual quick breakfast fare; buttered bagels, muffins, doughnuts, fruit, coffee, tea, or rolls. Anything that a person could grab on the go. There were a couple of tables set up for those who needed to sit but it was really more of a kiosk than a restaurant. I was digging in my purse searching for my wallet as I approached the line and not looking at my surroundings at all.

That was when I heard my name. “Hey, Delilah,” the voice drawled.

I turned to see who was calling me and recognized the face immediately. It was the guy who worked in the accounting department, Will Krakow. He was nice enough. But I think because he was also from the south he thought that gave us a special connection.

It didn’t.

“Oh hey, Will.” I responded politely.

“You’re early.” He dug both hands into the pockets of his slacks and raised his shoulders simultaneously. My eyes squinted at his remark wondering why or how he knew if I was earlier than usual or not. My one hand still searched the bottom of my bag blindly.

“Yeah. A little bit,” I answered again trying to be polite. My eyes went back to my purse as I was still rooting around in my cavernous bag unable to locate my wallet. I made a mental note to remember the next time I went shopping for a pocketbook to get one substantially smaller than the one I was foraging around in at the moment.

Noticing my predicament Will used his pointer finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose and offered a helping hand. “Hey now, don’t go gettin’ lost in there. I’d be happy to buy you that morning coffee if you’d do me the honor.”

“Do you what honor?” I asked absently still searching in my bag.

I heard him clear his throat just as I decided I needed to change tactics. I dropped my over sized bag to the floor, squatted in front of it spreading the opening as wide as it would go and practically stuck my head inside. Luckily the closest thing I blindly grabbed in my closet that morning was slacks otherwise Will would be getting the entire cutchie-coo show. I pushed the contents of my bag this way and that but still couldn’t find my wallet.

Then I heard Will still jibber jabbering about what I had no idea. “The honor of buying you a coffee, of course.”

“Huh?” I asked. I hadn’t heard a word the man said. “What the heck did I do with my wallet?” I asked as if Will might know where I had put it. “It must be in here,” I continued my search.

It barely registered that Will approached the counter and I heard him order a large coffee with cream and sugar. I was still scouring my big bag unwilling to give up on the search. I sighed heavily. It wasn’t in there. “Crap,” I stated and stood at the same time. I hooked my bag on my shoulder as my mind tried to remember where I had had it last.

“Ugh! I left it on my ice cream table,” I grumbled and slapped myself on the leg. I always got my cab fare out of my wallet before I left and held it in my hand. I knew how much the cab fare cost and I was afraid that I would drop my wallet while we were darting in and out of traffic bouncing all over the place as we headed downtown. That’s how it was in a New York cab. It would be impossible to count how many times I had dropped the contents of my bag on the floor of a taxi throughout my years of commuting to work. I had finally learned my lesson and it wasn’t going to happen ever again. Opening your bag in a taxi was a no, no. Lesson learned. “I can’t make it through this day without…” I turned and saw Will’s hand extended holding a coffee out to me. I looked at it and back to Will.

“Is that for me?” I asked inquisitively.

Will nodded. “Yes, Delilah, it’s for you. Cream and sugar, just how you like it.” He smiled as he gestured again that I should take it. I didn’t ask how he knew how I liked my coffee. I truly didn’t want to know the answer.

I swallowed hard before I wrapped my fingers around the paper cup. “I’ll getcha back tomorrow,” I promised.

“No worries,” he smiled. “I know where you live.”

I figured he was joking. At least I hoped he was joking. “Aren’t you going to have any?” I asked just before I took a sip of my morning savior.

He just shrugged his shoulders again. “I drank mine already.”

I took a moment to assess Will. He was wearing a crisp white button down. Underneath you could see that he had on a short sleeve undershirt. It occurred to me that he was well put together even if he really wasn’t my type.

“Mmm. Thanks, Will.” I took a generous swig.

Will nodded and walked with me toward the bank of elevators. Once there we ran into my partner, Stacey.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey,” I greeted back. “Do you know Will?” I was relatively certain Stacey had met Will on several occasions but the chances that he registered on any level with her was unlikely. Will was nothing to write home about. He was nice, clean cut and an average looking guy. He was kind of funny but not really, sort of tall but for some strange reason you didn’t remember him that way. There was nothing about Will that was memorable. If one were asked to describe him, a big fat ‘um’ would linger from their vocal cords because it would be impossible to point out any definitive qualities. All that said, Will was the consummate southern gentleman and responded accordingly to Stacey.

“Nice to see you again, Stacey.”

Stacey’s eyes squinted and ran down and up Will and then her head sort of nodded and shook at the same time. Clearly he wasn’t ringing a bell.

I figured by her reaction that she wasn’t only unsure if they had met but didn’t care one way or the other. So I tried to smooth the situation over before Stacey embarrassed the both us and hurt Will’s feelings at the same time. “From Accounting?”

“Oh!” She half smiled. “Of course.”

She was bullshitting.

She and I worked together like a well-oiled machine. I knew her like the back of my hand. She had no idea who Will was nor would she remember him the next time she ran into him. She made no effort to remember people who weren’t possible relationship material or essential in advancing her career. Sometimes, she would say if she were lucky, they fit both profiles. I, on the other hand, didn’t like using people at all. It felt like another job to me and I just didn’t have the energy. But where our values were different our work ethic was the same. We both gave our jobs one hundred percent. And the bonus was that she loved to do the things that I detested and I loved to do the things that she detested. We split the responsibilities right down the middle and our work was flawless. We were a perfect business couple.

Our similarities stopped there.

Avoiding any further conversation about Will she started a topic anew effectively cutting Will from our little circle. “Did you hear?” She asked.

“Did I hear what?” The elevator doors opened and the mass of people that had collected while we waited for an elevator car moved in unison toward the entrance.

“About the merger,” she continued. Will stepped in behind us with his hands at the bases of our spines. I could tell Stacey didn’t care for his herding technique because one eye squinted while the opposite side of her mouth twitched with grin/grimace combination.

“No.” We turned around to face forward using socially acceptable elevator etiquette. Since he had ushered us in, Will ended up in front of us when we faced forward. Stacey took the opportunity to make eyes at me questioning Will’s intentions. I shook my head and tried to get us back on track. “What merger?” I brought my coffee to my lips while I awaited her answer.

“Norstride is merging with Jubilee,” she finally revealed. The information that she shared was bigger news for me than she could possibly know. Another choking fit ensued as I had just started to swallow a sip of coffee.

Stacey took her turn of pounding me on the back. “What the hell,” she stated. “Take it easy, Dee. This is good news.”

“They’re merging?” Cough, cough, cough. “Where will their headquarters be?” I asked still gasping for breath.

“The whole company is being relocated to Virginia. Can you believe that? I guess we will finally start accumulating frequent flyer miles.”

I just stared at her blinking. Stacey held her hands out, palms up and facing the heavens like I had suddenly developed a mental disorder. “What the hell is wrong with you? Did you leave your brain at home?”

Will half turned around to answer. “No. Just her wallet.”

Stacey twitched her head irritated that he had the audacity to put in his two cents.

Norstride was our biggest pharmaceutical client. We had others but it was the mainstay of our client list. We handled all of their press releases, company news, and corporate announcements. Jubilee was a southern company that manufactured medical supplies. Many of my friends’ parents from the town I grew up in worked for Jubilee when I was a kid. I knew the company had grown but I didn’t realize that a merger was on the horizon. Jubilee was also the place of business of one Mr. Matthew (a.k.a. Hugh) Rowen. He had joined their legal team a couple of years ago.

“Are you certain?” I asked as my heart began to race faster.

“Yes! Don’t you check your emails before you go to bed? It was announced late last night. The function that we are attending Friday is when the big announcement will take place. Both companies will be represented,” Stacey finished talking just as the elevator opened on our floor. Will stepped out allowing us to pass. He held one arm in front of the elevator door to prevent it from closing and one arm out showing us the way.

“Bye, Delilah,” Will whispered as I walked past him.

Even though my mind was reeling with thoughts of Hugh, Norstride, Jubilee and the merger I heard Will’s parting words and answered him robotically. “Bye, Will. Thanks again for the coffee.” He gave me a smile as the people behind me pushed me forward while others who had let them pass by piled back inside to keep going. Will was one of them. He worked on the floor above.

“He’s weird,” Stacey blurted luckily after the elevator doors closed and we were halfway down the hall.

“He’s not weird!” I defended fervently. “He’s southern.” I don’t know why I was getting all riled up over Stacey’s opinion of Will.

“So all guys from the south are weird?” she asked.

“No, Stacey! He’s polite,” my southern accent showed up inexplicably. “Something that you aren’t used to from the guys around here who grunt at you all day long and then expect to get laid.” Now I was not only standing up for Will with my southern accent but I was unnecessarily putting down the locals at the same time. Truthfully, Will was a little strange but he had also demonstrated that he could be sweet and endearing. His thoughtfulness in my mind gave him a redeeming quality in a geeky sort of way. Sort of. Well kind of sort of. Not for me but for someone. And he appeared to be relatively harmless and he had bought me coffee when I was in dire need.

“I like grunting,” she responded as we approached the door to the office we shared. No surprise there.

“Well, then, that’s why you find Will to be weird.” I accentuated my point with a wave of my hand. “He actually knows how to have a conversation and then he buys a girl in need a cup of coffee.”

Stacey turned to look at me instead of entering. “Then he fucks her?” She raised her eyebrows asking me if that meant I was going to fuck Will.

“No,” I stated flatly and then sighed heavily realizing I was shoveling sand against the tide. Stacey was set in her ways. I pushed past her and walked straight to my desk. I turned on my computer so it could warm up while I tucked my enormous bag in the bottom drawer of my desk and changed my shoes.

“Just so you know, Delilah. All guys, even Will, just want to get laid. Mark my words,” Stacey educated.

My ass had barely hit the seat of my chair when our intercom crackled. I knew what that meant. Before it started spurting instructions my eyes closed and my hands covered my face in frustration.

“Conference room.” Psht. “9:20.” Psht. “Over.”

That was Logan. Our assistant.

We explained to him on several occasions that the intercom wasn’t a walkie-talkie but he was under the misconception that his curt and concise responses followed by an ‘over’ made him sound more serious or dedicated or some other bullshit like that. When what it really did was make him sound like a four-year-old assistant.

Since Stacey hadn’t sat down she walked to the doorway and peeked her head outside where Logan sat. “Get me a cup of coffee.” Then she made the ‘psht’ sound with her mouth and said ‘over.’

The intercom crackled again. “Say, please.” Psht. “Over.”

Stacey’s head was still outside of the room. “No,” she answered speaking to him directly. Then she made the ‘psht’ sound again and said ‘over.’

“Bitch,” he stated through the microphone. Psht. “Over.”

Stacey came back to her desk and sat with a huff. “Didn’t we fire him at some point?” Stacey questioned. It wasn’t the first time he had called her a bitch.

“I thought so but he keeps showing up and he keeps getting paid so make of that what you will,” I answered still completely distracted by the overwhelming news of the pending merger.

Stacey dropped the subject of Logan’s dismissal and forged on. “We should bring all of our notes on Norstride to the conference room. I have a feeling we are going to be briefed.”

I peeked through my fingers to look at Stacey. “Yeah,” I agreed. Stacey could be called a lot of things, most in the category of offensive or insulting, but she was always prepared and well versed for a meeting.

I felt her eyes burning a hole in the top of my head as I mentally began the process of pulling myself together. “Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Stacey asked as she organized herself and her files.

I swallowed hard because I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I would share with Stacey. I knew first hand that she couldn’t be trusted and I had never told another soul about what happened with Hugh. The only person who knew all the gory details was Julia and she had lived through it with me. I dropped my hands from my face and let them fall to my desk like they weighed a hundred pounds each. I looked at the clock to see how much time we had. Ten minutes. Not nearly enough time to craft a reasonable story.

“I’ll explain after the meeting.”

I decided to postpone offering any explanation to Stacey. Waiting would also give me time to concoct a story to share with her. That was if she even remembered that something was bothering me in the first place. It was always hard for me to remember because we worked so closely together. But Stacey and I were not friends. We were nothing more than associates at a P.R. firm.

Nothing more.

“Okay. Well then snap yourself out of it for now. I’m not going into a meeting for our biggest client with your mouth dropped open like that. You look ridiculous. So chop, chop.” She snapped her fingers at me to get me started. One thing about Stacey, she always meant business. But sometimes that was just what I needed. I did what she said and snapped myself out of the bowels of fear that I was drowning in.

“Focus,” I told myself. So I did my best impersonation of a professional PR Executive who was focusing on the job at hand. I started to gather my files on Norstride and any information I had on Jubilee. My thoughts about Hugh Rowen and how he might tie into this merger would have to wait.

Chapter 5

“Stacey Horner. I would like you to meet Hugh Rowen,” I heard my boss begin. “He is heading up the legal team that will be handling the merger for Jubilee and Norstride. Hugh, this is Stacey and her partner…her partner…”

My boss Steven Smith was looking for me. But I was too busy trying not to drop dead while I plastered myself up against the wall outside of the conference room. To say that I was totally panic stricken would be a massive understatement. My hands were so sweaty they were sticking to the wallboard.

As soon as we had approached the conference room, I caught a glimpse through the glass windows inside that room. At first I thought I was hallucinating but then I realized that Hugh Rowen was sitting at the table. So naturally, I instantly stopped breathing and went into full panic mode. I wasn’t prepared to see Hugh ever least of all in a conference room where I worked. So as soon as my brain registered that it was the love of my life parked at that conference table I scooted past the door and threw myself against the wall so he couldn’t see me. I remained paralyzed there while Steve was beginning introductions. I could hear the entire conversation. I could even tell that Steven was circling left and right trying to locate me in the room. Then I heard him say, “Hugh, Stacey has a partner who you will meet. She must be running behind.”

I heard feet quickly padding the floor in my direction. A hand wrapped around the doorjamb and grabbed my arm. The palms of my hands acted like suction cups and made a popping noise when they were ripped from the wall. Stacey proceeded to drag me inside. “Oh, there you are, Delilah,” Steven said with a smile. My eyes must have looked like saucers because I saw a slow smile consume Hugh’s face. “Hugh, this is the other half of the wildly successful Norstride PR team, Delilah Welling.”

Hugh, who was already standing, pushed his chair away from the table with the backs of his legs and made his way around to get to me. He stuck his hand straight out to shake mine while I stood there in complete shock. Holy shit. He was even more beautiful than I remembered.

“So nice to meet you, Delilah.” He was staring straight into my soul. He cleared his throat and then turned his attention to Stacey who was without a doubt sizing up Hugh as boyfriend material, a potential vessel for career advancement or (with my luck) both.

I didn’t think it was possible for the reality of Hugh to be better than the image I had etched in my mind for all those years. He was only twenty-one years old when he stood at that altar and he was the most beautiful male specimen I had ever seen then. Now he was just as handsome but his features had lost their boyish roundness and had become chiseled. He looked like a runway model dressed in a navy blue power suit. Good Lord, I had to start fanning myself.

Stacey was no fool. She wasn’t going to waste her golden opportunity. “It is so nice to meet you, Mr. Rowen. I just don’t think that I could be happier about the merger. I know this will mean big things for both companies and I genuinely look forward to servicing you,” she smiled her beautiful smile and batted her meticulously lengthened eyelashes while my eyes were crossing and I was just doing my best not to pass out.

Then my eyebrows pinched together. Did I just hear what I thought I just heard? Did she say that she looked forward to servicing him?

Then I heard Steven clear his throat probably thinking what I was thinking. What the hell was wrong with that girl? Out of the corner of my eye I saw Steven scratch his forehead. “She means service your company,” he qualified.

Hugh ignored Stacey’s comment and Steven’s correction. I would have sworn his attention was focused on me but I really couldn’t see straight so that was a wishful assumption on my part because he seemed to be facing my general direction. “Maybe we should all sit down,” I heard Hugh suggest.

“Good idea,” I mumbled faintly pulling my Peter Pan collar from my reddened neck.

“Would anyone like a beverage before we get started?” Steven moved toward the far end of the table and sat. He pulled the phone that sat atop the table closer to him and pressed the intercom button to summon his assistant.

Maria, the person with the most annoying voice in the world quickly answered. “Yes?” She droned, her voice quivering in a way that made me upchuck in my throat.

“Maria would you get us some coffees?” Steven asked pitching his body forward speaking directly over the intercom. He pointed to Hugh who nodded and then Hugh turned his face back to look at me. “Four please.” Steven didn’t care if Stacey or I wanted coffee or not. We had all been in enough meetings together for him to know that we would drink whatever sat in front of us. So he just ordered for us as per usual.

“Of course, Mr. Smith.” Maria’s voice always sounded like it made several trips through her nasal passages before it was emitted. Her whiney voice on a normal day made my stomach clench so at that moment while I was already lightheaded it was like a good dose of that serum my mother would give us when she wanted us to throw up. I straightened my posture hoping to elongate my stomach and unclench my muscles. All I accomplished was offering the bile that was swirling around in my stomach a direct path up my esophagus.

I stood abruptly excusing myself at the same time before I further embarrassed myself and vomited all over the conference table. “If y’all excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Hugh stood with me. Y’all? What the heck was with my accent? I had worked very, very hard to abandon that thing a long time ago.

“Are you okay, Ms. Welling? You don’t look so good.” It was nice of Hugh to show concern because Stacey and Steve didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass that I was as white as a ghost and swaying like a drunken sailor who’d lost his sea legs. It was also nice that he was keeping our interaction on a professional level. The alternative was having my worst nightmare come true.

“Yes. Just forgot my notepad.” I lied, swallowing back the rising storm.

I saw his lips press together and then he bit the inside of his mouth before he nodded accepting my excuse.

I somehow held it together as I bounced off the walls of the hallway to the ladies room. However once inside I tossed my cookies in the closest toilet. Once my stomach was emptied, I collapsed against the stall door feeling soooo much better. I sighed heavily deciding that I was going to have to get my shit together. “Calm down,” I slowly blew through my pursed lips. “Just relax,” I whispered to myself. “He’s not here to decimate your world. He’s here for a legitimate meeting.”

Then I heard the door to the ladies room fly open and crack against the tile wall. My partner and full time she-devil was shrieking my name. “Delilah? So help me God if you fuck this up I will throw you right out our office window. Do I need to remind you what floor we are on?”

I exited the bathroom stall and went straight to the sink. Cupping water into the well of my palm, I slurped it into my mouth. A few swishes later I spit it in the sink ready to face my nemesis. “Thanks for your concern, Stace. I’ll be fine,” I stated sarcastically wiping my mouth with a paper towel still leaning over the sink.

I heard her sigh heavily and peripherally I could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. “What are you, like, pregnant or something?” She asked with indignation.

I hadn’t been with anyone since I had broken up with Carson eight months earlier. She knew I was single. More than that, she knew I wasn’t like her. I didn’t just fuck guys in utility closets for career advancement or just because I had the good fortune to find myself with five extra minutes between conference calls. She, however, had demonstrated on more than one occasion that she was capable of either or both and considered either scenario a bonus. After Carson announced that he and Stacey went at it in the utility closet, needless to say, it was over between us. By us, I mean all of us. Carson and I were over. And any illusions of Stacey and I being friends became clear. Stacey never said a single word about her actions nor did she ever apologize. I wasn’t surprised that Carson pursued her. He was immature and angry that I wasn’t affected by his charm, good looks and self-confidence. But I was a little surprised that she participated and did so without showing a hint of regret or remorse. Not a lot surprised but definitely a little. If nothing else it spoke volumes to how our work relationship was just that. In other words we weren’t friends and we were never going to be. I never told her or gave an inkling that it bothered me she and Carson betrayed me because I knew deep down he and I didn’t have a future and she basically did me a favor. But what kind of person has sex with her partner’s boyfriend in a utility closet while she is in the coffee lounge checking her watch every five minutes waiting for him to go to lunch?

I turned my head from the sink basin to look at her and I knew she saw the resentment that flashed in my eyes. “I’m going to say this one time and one time only, Stacey,” my eyes bored into hers. “Hugh Rowen is off limits. If I see you so much as sneeze in his direction, Stacey, I will rip your useless heart right out of your boney chest. Do you hear me?” I swear I don’t know what came over me. It was like I was possessed.

Stacey’s eyes widened and her chin tucked back to her chest. I saw her swallow hard and detected that she was going to try to defend herself but I was having none of it. “Don’t,” I warned. “Carson was one thing. Hugh is a-complete-fucking-nother. Don’t fucking test me. You stay away from him or so help me God there will be consequences.” I tossed my wet paper towel into the trash and then paused in front of her before I grabbed the handle to the ladies room door. I stared into her soulless eyes so she knew I was serious before I pulled the door and swaggered (yes swaggered) back to the conference room. I entered with my head held high and a confidence that I had never felt in my entire life. It didn’t hurt that I was lot less nauseous.

When Stacey returned to the conference room she was behaving quite differently than when she left. I think she even secured a button higher up on her blouse. I saw her jaw clench a couple of times. I assumed because she was angry that I had cut her to the quick. But I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t let her get anywhere near Hugh. Not just because she was a soulless whore. With my luck he would enjoy that about her like every other man in the building. But because if there was a shot in hell that I could ever have Hugh Rowen it would bother me to the core that Stacey had him first. So even though my intentions seemed selfless they were not. If anyone was ever going to get a shot at Hugh it was going to be me. Not Stacey Horn Dog.

Hugh noticed Stacey’s chilly change in demeanor. He even went so far as to ask her about it. “Stacey is everything all right? You seem…agitated,” Hugh asked innocently.

He had no idea how agitated she really was. I turned my head poignantly in her direction unable to wait and see how she was going to answer that one.

“I, um, well, don’t be silly Mr. Rowen, I am not agitated. I just take my job very seriously. This is my game face,” she answered.

“Please. Call me Hugh,” he responded.

“That’s okay. Mr. Rowen is just fine,” she answered glaring at me.

I disingenuously smiled at her as we wrapped up the meeting. Stacey slapped folders shut so hard that they made a distracting clapping noise. Who knew that telling her to keep her hands off one man in the entire Universe could get her so angry? I had to admit, watching her juvenile reaction made me question if I had inadvertently upped the anti. We all stood to finalize details and then the meeting was over. Hugh’s fingers went to his suit jacket to close the top button. Maria broke in on the intercom to tell Steven that he had a phone call, which he picked up right away and Stacey fled the scene like the boyfriend thief that she was. That left a distracted Steven on the phone, Hugh and me. I gave a cursory grin as Hugh rounded the table to get to me. As he approached my heart began to drum a little faster and my chin tipped up to keep my eyes on his.

“Did you get my message?” he whispered.

I nodded before I spoke and then I smiled. I felt my cheeks flush at the thought of his message. “It was a nice surprise.” I downplayed the entire drama. No point in admitting that I was running around the lobby of my apartment building like a chicken without a head.

“Dinner?” he whispered.

My head cocked to the side in disbelief. I pointed to myself while my eyebrows touched. “You want to have dinner with me?”

He didn’t answer my question per say yet he answered it all the same. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00.”

Steven hung up the phone and slapped his hands together. “We have a great team in place. I think you will like these gals.” He directed his comment toward Hugh as I smiled at his remark.

“I think you’re right, Steven. I think I like them already.” I didn’t miss Hugh’s eyes roaming my face and that only made me smile wider.

I barely made it through my office door when Stacey’s tirade commenced. I was shocked that she went on the offensive but I guess that’s what a wild animal does when their back’s against the wall. They attack.

“I did you a favor!” she screamed.

“Seriously? Are we going to do this now?” I asked her heatedly.

Stacey folded her arms over her chest and threw out a hip.

Yes we were.

“Okay. Here goes, Stacey. You may or may not have done me a favor. We will never know. But what I do know is that the moment that you chose to have sex with my boyfriend you chose to never have any type of meaningful relationship with me. You don’t do that to a friend or a partner that you give a flying shit about. You just don’t!” I yelled back at her.

“He wasn’t your boyfriend! You didn’t give a rat’s ass about him. Don’t try to bullshit me.”

That was true but I had never verbalized my feelings of ambivalence to Stacey and even if I had it still didn’t justify her decision to have sex with him.

“Oh, please! I was in a relationship with him.” Obviously she needed to be educated on the subject so I took it upon myself to explain the moral code to her. “How serious it was or wasn’t was none of your business,” I paused momentarily and then changed tactics. “Maybe I made a mistake not taking you to task with the whole Carson debacle. But this is different. I wasn’t kidding before. Other than business you stay away from Hugh. Do you understand what I am saying?” Stacey had never seen this side of me. Hell I had never seen this side of me. But one thing was for certain. There was no way that I was going to stand by and watch Stacey dig her claws into the man I had spent my entire adult existence longing for. And I was going to make damn sure there were no misunderstandings between Stacey and me. I pointed my finger in her face while I carefully laid out in detail the parameters in which she was allowed to function around him. “You don’t have drinks with him, dinner, or even share a cab ride. Nothing. And I am not in the least bit exaggerating.”

I saw her chin set and her eyes squint. “You don’t own him, Delilah. Hugh Rowen is fair game.”

Welcome to the jungle.

I knew she wouldn’t back down. But I just figured she would go behind my back and stab me in between my shoulder blades trying to avoid a direct challenge. But I was wrong.

“As far as you are concerned? I do,” I challenged back. “I’m serious, Stace. You mind me,” I finished.

Then I watched as her entire being was consumed with indignation. I could actually see her calculating her next move as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Oh,” her voice softened, “believe me, Delilah. I heard every word you said. And if there is one thing that I can tell you for sure it’s this. When I do Hugh Rowen, and I will do him, I will make sure to mind you the entire time,” she purred her threat caustically. The claws were officially out. And I was actually introduced to yet one more sinister side of Stacey.

“So, you’re intention is to do Hugh just so you can fuck me over?” My eyes squinted in disbelief just before I heard the crackle.

Psht. “You are such a bitch.” Psht. “Over.”

Well at least I had Logan on my side.

“You’re fired!” Stacey bellowed at Logan. “Again!”

Chapter 6

I was late. But there was no way that I was leaving work for the day without moving out of the office Stacey and I shared. Stacey’s challenge was the last and final straw. Working with her was one thing but sharing space with her for nine hours a day would be impossible. Now I found myself under some serious pressure to get ready for dinner with Hugh. I ran through the front door of my apartment building in a flat out run on the tips of my toes. With everything going on, I had forgotten to change back into my walking shoes when I left my office so my feet were on fire from running fifteen blocks in my heels. Davis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of me. I was the quintessential mess. My hair was stuck to my head with sweat, my blouse was hanging out of the waist of my pants and my briefcase was only half zippered with papers peeking out here and there. My one free arm was flailing out to the side as I rushed to make the turn to the bank of elevators. “Buzz me in. Quick!” I was desperate to get upstairs and find something to wear for dinner. I had approximately 25 minutes before Hugh would show to pick me up for dinner. That amount of time, given my current state, was cutting it absurdly close. I needed to shower.

“Good evening, Miss Dee,” Davis greeted at the sight of me while reaching for the button to unlock the interior door. “Your package showed up,” he shared excitedly as he grabbed the package from behind his desk and chased me down with his hand outstretched.

I pushed at the door with my chest heaving as Davis followed me through. “Oh my goodness. Thank you, Davis, I am so late.” My words came out in a rush as I repeatedly tapped the call button for the elevator. The doors opened at the same time as Davis’ approached. I reached for the package and stepped in at the same time. Just as the elevator doors began to close they popped back open as I fumbled the package to get it under one arm. “Thanks,” I blurted as the doors reclosed. I barely witnessed him raising his hand to wave and nod that his mission was accomplished. My mission for the evening, however, was just beginning.

I all but bashed through my front door throwing all of my belongings on the chair that sat in the corner by my entrance. I immediately started stripping my clothes off as I made my way to the bathroom to start the water in the shower. I ran out of my bathroom and into my bedroom to grab underwear and back into the bathroom to see if the water had warmed up. After stripping the rest of my clothes, I stepped under the spray and did a marathon wash to end all marathons. I had never washed my hair with one hand and simultaneously shaved my legs with the other. But, halleluiah, it was like God had suddenly blessed me with a heightened ability to multitask. I turned off the water and reached for my towel wrapping myself up like a sausage. I ran as quickly as I could with restricted movement (my towel was tighter than I intended) to find something in my closet to wear.

The scratching of the metal hangers along the metal rod didn’t bother me nearly as much as it normally would.

Screech. Red dress. Too sexy.

Screech. Blue sequined top. Better for a night out of clubbing not an intimate dinner with the hottest man on Earth.

Screech. Little black dress. Last resort if I can’t find anything else.

“Urg!” I grunted. “I must have something that doesn’t look like I am heading to a business meeting or about to hang a red light outside my door.” Clearly my dating wardrobe was in serious need of attention.

Screech. Brown gypsy skirt. Too casual.

Screech. Hunter green button down. “Looks like I’m ready for the Outback. Bummer matey.” I sighed heavily unhappy with my options.

One after the other, and I still couldn’t find exactly what I wanted to wear. I turned to look at my nightstand where my alarm clock sat. 6:45. I was running out of time and I needed to make a decision. I screeched the hangers back, back, back till I got to the little black dress. I sized it up again. It was going to have to do.

I pulled it off of the hanger and laid it out on my bed. Stumbling over my heels that I had kicked off when I quickly undressed, I ran back to my bathroom to finish getting ready. I toweled off my hair and let it start to air dry while I put on some facial cream and make-up. Once I was satisfied with my face I grabbed my hairbrush and started to pull and tug and tug and pull while I scorched it under the hair dryer. The smoke billowed until my hair was flat as a pancake. Funny how it was okay to have flat hair but a flat chest was considered a drawback.

I heard the buzzer go off on my intercom alerting me to the fact that I had a visitor. My eyes darted to my reflection in the mirror. “Shit,” I hissed knowing I was not quite ready. I ran to my front door and pressed the call button trying to slow my breathing. I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Yes?” I questioned as calmly as I could while my heart was attempting to thunder out of my chest.

“Delilah? You have a visitor.” Davis sounded rather formal but since Hugh was essentially a new face, I figured he was doing it on purpose.

Therefore I tried to respond in kind. “Thank you, Davis. You can send him up.” The voice that came out of my body was like nothing I had ever heard before. I sounded like a man in drag trying to impersonate a starlet from the 1930’s.

Even Davis was confused. “Delilah?” Davis questioned. “Did I ring the wrong apartment?”

I cleared my throat and tried again. “No, Davis. It’s me. You can send him up,” this time sounding as cool and collected as I intended fearing Davis was careless enough to have me on speaker and Hugh would be able to hear my hysteria. As soon as I lifted my finger from the intercom button my panic resumed. My breathing pattern became more harassed and I swore like my BFF, Julia, in a traffic jam when I realized I still had clothes trailing down the hall.

“Son of a bitch!” I picked up the clothes I had peeled off on my way to the shower and ran back to my bathroom to throw them in the hamper. I ran my hand through my hair and found that it was still damp in spots. But given the tumultuous day I’d experienced, I was surprised I managed to pull myself together enough that I wasn’t a total embarrassment. I ran to the bed and shimmied into my dress. Then I heard the ding of the elevator (which sadly I could hear from my bedroom) and I knew I was out of time. My eyes slowly closed while I said a silent prayer that things would go my way.

This was it.

I heard the rapping on my front door. I smoothed my hands over my hips rounding them over my ass letting my fingers find the hem at the bottom of my dress. I had to make sure it was flat and not tucked in my underwear. That would be a really poor first impression after a twelve-year hiatus. I took a deep breath, slipped on my heels and padded to the door. My heart was racing so fast if I were in the Kentucky Derby I think I could pull out at least a show even up against the finest thoroughbreds in the country. I lifted my chin toward the ceiling and let out the breath I was holding simultaneously closing my eyes. Agreeing to a dinner and mustering up the courage to get through the meal were two entirely different things. “I can do this,” I breathed. I turned the handle willing a positive and upbeat expression to replace the fear and trepidation that was surely etched on my face. I swung open the door and the smile I had produced fell away.

“Will!” I was reaching for pleasant surprise but I think that he might have figured out that his presence elicited shock with a healthy dose of disappointment.

“Hello, Delilah,” he shuffled his feet as he drawled.

“When you said ‘I know where you live’ I thought it was just a figure of speech,” I tried to explain away my quickly deflating enthusiasm. “What are you doing here?”

He ignored my question and instead offered me a compliment. “You look nice,” he gestured with his hand.

“Thank you,” I answered politely.

I raised my eyebrows suggesting he should have a good excuse for showing up at my door inexplicably and saw him swallow hard. I didn’t invite him in because I was more than a little stunned to find him there and knew Hugh would be arriving any minute. “Going somewhere special?” he asked instead.

I didn’t want to share too much with Will. I didn’t know him very well and polite southern boy or not, I didn’t want to encourage him in any way. “I have plans.” My right hand went to the door handle to join my left and they started to work the metal knob nervously. Then it occurred to me that he had come for his money. “Oh! I should get you your money for the coffee you paid for this morning.” I turned to go into my apartment and Will followed me in uninvited. I went straight to my ice cream table (the only size that would fit in my little one bedroom) to find some cash. “I’m sorry, Will, I should have remembered,” I added as I searched for a couple of singles. It still didn’t explain why he showed up at my apartment. It must have cost him more in subway fare just to collect his two dollars for my coffee but at that point I just wanted to get rid of him.

I realized his voice was right behind me as in very, very close behind me when he spoke and I could feel the breath behind his words. “I’m not here for my two dollars, Delilah,” he stated with his southern comfort.

My body froze because I was far from comfortable with Will standing on top of me. I could actually feel his emanating warmth through my dress. I’m pretty sure that he heard me swallow because the lump in my throat was the size of a cannonball. “Oh?” I didn’t turn around because there wasn’t any room for me to do so but my hands had stilled from rooting around in my purse.

“Mnmn,” he hummed but offered no more.

Needless to say my discomfort was growing. Will showed up at my apartment unannounced. I’d never given him my address, information he shouldn’t have had as I wasn’t listed in the phone book and he still hadn’t revealed the reason for his visit. Then I heard a light rap on the door.

Thank God.

My head spun in that direction at the same time as Will’s. The door slowly swung open from the knocking, as it had only marginally swung closed when Will followed me in. In my doorway, leaning into the jamb appeared the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. 6’ 2” and solid, Hugh was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He crossed his arms over his chest as he sized up the situation inside. I could see his lips and jaw press together at the sight of Will’s proximity to me. Then he spoke and he didn’t sound all that happy. “Hey, Junior. Am I interrupting something?”

“No!” I jumped at the thought that Hugh was getting the entirely wrong impression. “Will is a…um….just leaving. He stopped by for…uh...” Then I turned in the claustrophobic space that Will reluctantly forfeited. “Why did you stop by again?” I leaned back and asked as if he had told me and I had forgotten.

Then he finally answered and I’d wished he hadn’t. “I heard that you had a rough day at work. Had it out with someone in your office. Almost came to fisticuffs. I wanted to stop by and see if you were okay,” with his confession I saw Hugh’s eyes dart to me.

“You had it out with someone and it almost came to…fisticuffs?” he asked with surprise in his tone. The word fisticuffs sounded absurd crossing Hugh’s beautiful lips.

My mouth bobbed up and down a few times as I tried to think of something benign to say since I couldn’t tell him that he was the reason that fisticuffs were involved and my conflict was with Stacey.

But Will got his version of the story out first. “Yeah. They were fighting over some guy.” Then he got this shit eating grin on his face like it was him that Stacey and I were fighting over. He shrugged and turned toward Hugh. “You know how it is,” his southern inflection sounding almost cocky. “So I stopped by because I want Delilah to know that there is no contest.” He took one finger and ran it down my bare arm. I think my skin was visibly crawling.

“Will, I…” I had to stop talking because I saw Hugh straighten and then he talked over me.

“I didn’t realize that you’d already made plans for the evening, Delilah. I’ll leave you to it.” As he turned to leave a feeling of complete despondency filled my heart and soul.

I barely caught the tail end of his sport jacket escape my view and I heard the elevator ding. Why when I needed the elevator was it always being held up on every floor in the building but when the man of my dreams was making a hasty retreat it was waiting there for him to run?

“Hugh!” I blurted hoping he would wait. But as I pushed passed Will to get to my door, Will caught my arm in a firm grip. Not the right thing to do when little miss Delilah was chasing down her man. I stopped because Will’s grasp was unforgiving and turned on him. “Will. So help me God. Let go of my arm,” I gritted through my teeth.

“Let him go, Delilah. He doesn’t mean anything to you,” he said as if he believed that with every fiber of his being.

So as much as I hated to admit it, maybe Stacey was right. There was definitely something wrong with Will.

Cuckoo!!