Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
M ary pulled the knife from the cup of hot water and smoothed it over the frosting of the lowest tier of the cake. The bakery had delivered the four-tier monstrosity in perfect shape, but when the catering staff had wheeled it from the walk-in cooler, they d knocked into a rack of salads, and a sizable chunk of it had broken off and fallen on the floor. Mary had trimmed what was left so it was more or less even, then patched it with some bread and a batch of frosting she d whipped up herself. It wasn t a perfect match, and her cake decorating skills weren t the best, but she d ensure they lowered the lights in the dining room before they wheeled it out and didn t serve the part that wasn t actually cake to any of the guests.
Was this failure, on top of all the others, enough to ruin her chances of ever planning another wedding?
With the back of her hand, she wiped the sweat from her brow. Maybe she wasn t cut out for wedding planning after all. If she begged her brothers, they had to take her back at the shop, right? They were family.
Though she didn t want to return to her old job. As much as she loved her brothers and the idea of continuing their father s business, she d never loved it. Not like she loved planning weddings. The fragrant flowers, the delicious food, the unique venues and wedding traditions. The romantic kiss at the end of the ceremony. Her heart beat a little faster on days she was working on a wedding, and it wasn t only adrenaline from dealing with emergencies, big and small. Weddings brought her joy. Helping a couple celebrate love in front of friends and family made her romantic heart sing.
If this was the last wedding she ever planned, a little part of her would die along with her dreams.
She stepped back and gazed critically at the cake. She d ensure the patched-up part was closest to the wall. She circled to the other side of it. Nothing looked amiss from the front. She reached up and adjusted the topper, so the couple faced her. It would work. And long after Cierra s wedding was over and Mary got paid, she d tell Cierra about it, and they d laugh together.
Until then, she d pretend everything was perfect.
Everything at the wedding, that is. Because there wasn t a person in Vegas, it seemed, who didn t know precisely how her life had gone off the rails. The other night, her neighbor, Mrs. Wong, had brought her a batch of lotus-seed mooncakes and suggested she get on the app store to find a man. At church last weekend, the woman sitting next to her had clucked her tongue and shook her head during the sign of peace. And when she d picked up her dress from the dry cleaner, the owner had slipped her a chocolate bar along with her receipt.
She d show them all she was doing great despite her personal and professional humiliation. She d find someone who hadn t heard she d screwed up the wedding of the season, offer them a massive discount, and start over.
But first, she needed to find the photographer and ensure she only photographed the cake from the front.
Hey. She walked to where the kitchen manager stood, supervising the servers as they transferred the salads from their racks, one with a smear of white frosting on the side, to their trays. Cake is good to go. Please be sure the patched bit faces the wall when you wheel it out, and remind the servers not to serve that part, okay?
Got it, he said. I m sorry about the accident.
Mary shrugged. It happens. I should know.
I heard. The manager s eyes crinkled in sympathy.
Ugh. Maybe Mary needed to move to Salt Lake or Phoenix to escape her reputation. I m going to talk to the photographer. I ll be back to check in before the main course.
She paused to take one last look at the cake. It didn t look so bad, did it? Maybe she could borrow a couple of frosted rosettes from one of the upper tiers to help disguise the patch.
Miss Forza! One of the servers stood at the kitchen s swinging door, an empty tray under her arm. You ve got to come out.
Mary s heart kicked in her chest. What happened? Visions of guests puking from an outbreak of food poisoning, a rowdy drunk uncle shouting his political views from the stage, and the bride and groom tossing their rings at each other all popped into her mind. That third one was actually pretty likely. Cierra had brought the drama to her wedding and seemed determined to poke Sawyer until he did something rash.
Come see. The server tossed her tray onto a counter, grasped Mary by the wrist, and pulled her out into the dining room. Mary took a deep breath. Whatever had happened, she could handle it.
In the dining room, something seemed…off. Anticipation crackled in the air. People stood on the dance floor when they should have been seated, ready to start the salad course. She d have to talk to the emcee, who should have handled that.
She scanned the room for the bride and groom. There they were, also on the dance floor, arm in arm. She sighed, relieved. No emergency there. Hopefully, no drama either.
Murmuring erupted around them as the server dragged her toward the stage. Oh, no. Was there a problem with the emcee? Had he walked out? Or experienced a medical emergency? Silently, she recited a Hail Mary as she jogged toward the stage.
There she is! Cierra squealed, pointing right at her. Go, Alex!
Alex?
A spotlight lit up the stage. But instead of the band s scruffy lead singer, a suited man stood in it, his glossy dark hair haloed in the bright light. Alex.
Mary s stomach dropped. Shit, had he followed her to her next wedding to warn everyone of what a screw-up she was? Had he come as a favor to his ex, Cierra, to rescue her wedding like he d done for Rochelle s? Her cheeks burned.
Mary, he said, cupping his hand over his eyes against the glare of the spotlight. Where are you? His voice sounded thick, and his words slurred slightly. There was something wrong with his face, too. Even in the color-sapping spotlight, his jaw looked red.
A tall groomsman stood in front of her. She could hide behind him, shake off the server who still manacled her wrist, and then slink back to the kitchen. No, Cierra had spotted her. She had to face the music. Not literally, since it was only Alex, and he d pointedly told her at karaoke night that he didn t sing.
Pulling her arm away from the server, she straightened her shoulders and stepped to the front of the crowd below the stage. Her stomach churning, she said, Here I am.
Mary, he said into the microphone. His eyes crinkled. Was that pity? Or…remorse? She couldn t identify the unfamiliar expression. Thank you for coming.
She narrowed her eyes, partly in disbelief and partly to examine his strange appearance. His top half was impeccable as always, his light linen suit jacket looking especially crisp, his shirt extra white, and his tie…his tie? She d only seen him wear a tie at funerals. This one was a bright, cheerful floral.
But his bottom half was even stranger. Instead of linen suit pants to match his jacket, he wore a pair of cheap-looking black slacks, shiny with polyester, like what the caterers wore.
None of it mattered to her pattering heart. His face was familiar and beloved and gorgeous despite the shadows the spotlight made under his eyes.
You re thanking me for coming? she said. This is my job. I m supposed to be here. You re not.
He chuckled, and so did those guests close enough to hear her. I deserve that. Then his voice turned serious and deep and so, so loud through the speakers. Mary, I m sorry for doubting you. For being afraid to trust you. That was my failure, not yours. I should have let you do your job, which you do so well. Isn t this a great wedding, everyone?
There were a few claps.
Hey! Cierra shouted. This is a great wedding!
A few more guests obliged her by clapping.
Tough crowd, Alex said. Though maybe that s my fault. I m making it weird. But after publicly humiliating you, I had to make my apology just as public.
You really didn t, Mary said, glancing around at the guests.
Didn t I? His brown eyes sparkled in the spotlight. Someone wise told me I had to let go and be vulnerable to truly love. Mary, I love you, and this is me being vulnerable to prove it to you.
He nodded to the guitar player, who strummed out a quick rhythm.
Alex raised the microphone to his lips and warbled the first words to If I Could Turn Back Time.
Mary gasped. Alex was singing? To her?
And…it was terrible. His voice cracked and wobbled. The man standing beside her groaned. Even the guitarist winced.
But Alex? His eyes didn t leave Mary s as he put his breath, his heart, into the song, note after painful note. Voices like Alex s were why they d invented Auto-Tune. And he d forgotten everything they d learned in the children s church choir about breathing. When he ran out of breath, he sucked in, loud, sometimes missing a word or two.
Was he nervous?
Mary stared up at him. The apples of his cheeks were bright pink, and his posture wasn t as straight as usual. Yet he kept singing despite the tremble of his fingers on the microphone stand.
Her heart cracked just a bit.
When the drummer joined in with a riff and drowned out the vocals, Alex sounded a little better.
He paused his singing to say, Come on, folks. Help me out here.
And even though it was an old song and none of the younger wedding guests would be caught dead listening to an adult contemporary radio station that played Cher, this was Vegas, and everyone knew her songs.
The tall groomsman beside her belted out the words, and so did Cierra s parents, and soon every person on that dance floor, from the bride and groom to their grandparents, was helping Alex express his regret and pleading for Mary s forgiveness.
And by the time Alex and the rest of the guests belted out the last line of the final chorus, the crack in her heart had grown so wide that it split open. But unlike the first time Alex had broken her heart, when she sat alone in her sparkly dress on prom night and her heart shattered like crystal, this time it cracked open like a seed, allowing her love to push out of it, vigorous and vibrant. Her love bloomed, colorful and beautiful as his tie, watered and nourished by the proof of his love.
Mary? he said over the buzz of the guests. I know I can trust you. With my secrets, with my business, and with my heart. I promise I won t shut you out again. His gaze caressed her face. I love you. Can you love me back?
Her heart opened like a sunflower. I do.
Hey, that s my line! Cierra called, laughing.
The emcee stepped up to grab the microphone from Alex. And mine is to remind you all that the first course is served. Everyone, find your tables, and let s celebrate Cierra and Sawyer.
Alex crouched, wincing as he put his palm on the stage and hopped to the dance floor. In a moment, he stood in front of Mary. Really? You love me?
She stepped closer to him and put her hands on his chest. His shirt front was damp with sweat, but she didn t care. He d put himself out there for her. He d exposed his broken parts to her and everyone else at the reception. Her chest filled with a golden warmth.
I always have.
His mouth landed softly on hers, his kiss both familiar and new. There was a gentleness to it, an openness that welcomed her in. It told her they d be starting the next leg of this road trip together, once they agreed on where to go. He d let her take the wheel when he was tired, and they d get off the highway when they needed to refuel.
Mary s kiss promised she was more than along for the ride. She d tell him what she wanted and needed, and she d remind him to stop and take in the sights along the way.
But as she deepened it to hint at what she wanted from him later, he grunted and pulled back.
What s wrong?
Just a…a gift from the groom. He touched his jaw gingerly and worked it around. Nothing I didn t deserve for showing up unexpectedly to my ex s wedding.
She skimmed her fingers along his swollen jaw and laid a gentle kiss on it. I m glad you came. But from here on out, you get a pass on karaoke.
Thank God. I never want to do that again.
It was a sweet gesture. I wouldn t mind if you sang to me in the shower.
In the shower? I think I ve got a much better use for my mouth than singing.
Her skin tingled. Show me after I m done here?
Maybe I can show you now in the locker room. He nipped her earlobe.
Sorry, I m on the clock. Which reminds me. You sent your regrets. I don t have a seat for you.
I m not a guest tonight. I m part of your staff. Give me a job to do.
A job? She glanced at his manicured hands that for many years hadn t done anything more strenuous than click a keyboard. Come on. I ll show you how to cut a wedding cake.
Good. So I ll know what I m doing at our wedding.
Her pulse hammered. Our wedding?
You should know by now that once I decide I want something, there s no stopping me.
But…we haven t talked about it. And you haven t asked me. I want a story to tell our grandchildren.
Grandchildren? He swallowed. Then a slow smile broke across his face. Don t worry. I ll give you a story that ll make our grandkids blush.