“Don’t start thinking you’re going to awaken me with a kiss,” she warned him, feeling a sudden knot in her stomach.
“Who’s talking about kissing?” he replied lazily.
“I’ve got to go.” She almost knocked her half empty Coke over on the Formica counter in her haste to get away. She fumbled in her purse, and he reached out and put his hand over hers, stilling her agitated movements.
“My treat,” he said. “It’s the least Louisa would expect of me.”
His hand was warm, big, strong, and she couldn’t control the stray shiver that ran through her body. She jerked it away, rather than argue. “It’s been nice talking to you, Mr. Wyczynski.”
“Always polite,” he murmured wryly. “You don’t always have to come up with the polite lies, Susan.”
“You haven’t lived in civilized society recently. Polite lies are an important part of life.”
“All right How about you don’t have to lie to me?”
She rose, staring at him, and she knew with sudden certainty that lying to Jake Wyczynski was more important than any of the small social lies the told daily. “I’d better get home and get to bed,” she said nervously. “I’ve got the week from hell ahead of me.”
Too late she realized how that sounded. “Not that I’m not happy and excited,” she continued quickly. “I mean, what bride wouldn’t be? It’s just?—”
“Go home, Susan,” he said gently. “You can come up with excuses tomorrow.
He was wrong about her. She wasn’t a coward, not usually. But at that moment she didn’t have any fight left in her. With a faint, nervous shrug, she turned and ran.
Four
Susan didn’t sleep well. The French fries, what few Jake hadn’t eaten, sat in her stomach like a lump of lead. Every time she came close to drifting off, something would wake her up. The guest bed in her mother’s house was brand-new, state-of-the-art and hard as a rock. Perfect for bones and muscles, but hell to get comfortable in, she thought, punching her pillow at a little past six.
At seven she gave up, staggering to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and shuddered. Her close-cropped hair stuck out all around her head, her face was pale except for the lavender circles around her eyes, and her mouth looked tight and drawn. The blushing bride looked like death warmed over, and if she didn’t get some sleep in the next three days, Edward was going to see her coming down the aisle and bolt in the opposite direction.
It wasn’t until she poured her second cup of black, strong coffee that she realized the notion of Edward running away filled her with profound relief.
“You’re being an idiot,” she said out loud. Indecision wasn’t her style, and now was a hell of a bad time to change her mind. Edward was everything she’d ever wanted. She certainly wasn’t going to back out now.
Grabbing a yellow, lined legal pad and a pencil, she took her coffee out into the small backyard that Mary had tended so lovingly over the years. Her mother had done wonders with the tiny yard, the ordinary little house, but she deserved better, and Susan had every intention of making sure she got it.
She drew a line down the center of the page, with yes and no on either side. The reasons to marry Edward were easy enough. One, she loved him. Two, the wedding was planned. Three, her mother loved him. Four, this was her childhood dream come true. Five, it would return the Abbotts to their rightful place in Matchfield society. Six, she loved Edward.
On the no side, there was nothing. Apart from a faint, indefinable sense of uneasiness that had to be normal prenuptial nerves, she could think of absolutely no reason why she wouldn’t want to many Edward Jeffries on Saturday. Well, apart from his overwhelming mother.
It was all Jake Wyczynski’s fault, and by extension, her mysterious godmother Louisa’s fault as well. Everything had been just fine until he showed up, like some exotic jungle cat Well, fine except for Vivian Jeffries’s horrible wedding dress, but she would have gladly worn that monstrosity in return for a little peace of mind.
She certainly didn’t need someone like Jake second-guessing her well-thought-out decisions. Uncertainty was perfectly normal in a bride—perfectly normal in anyone approaching a major life change. Maybe she should call the doctor and see if she could get some tranquilizers. Maybe she should take up serious drinking. No, she couldn’t do that. One of the few things she knew about her father was that he drank too much. It would be just her luck to inherit that tendency. Maybe she needed a honeymoon more than she realized.
Not that they were taking one. Susan was in the midst of changing jobs, so she was free, but Edward was a young man on the rise, and now was no time for him to be taking more than a couple of days off. The honeymoon would wait until they could do it right.
And Susan’s brand-new passport sat in her top drawer, with no chance of it being used.
She was on her second cup of coffee when her mother joined her on the terrace, the newspaper in one hand and a box in the other. Susan looked up at her warily.
“What’s that?”
“Another present from your godmother. Jake must have dropped it off early this morning.”
“Oh, God,” Susan groaned. “I don’t want to deal with it.”
“Susan! Louisa went to a great deal of trouble...”
“It’s not because of Louisa,” Susan said bitterly. “This week is complicated enough—I just don’t need any more distractions.”
