26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Madison
“ M mm, that’s the best cake I had ever tasted,” our next bride mumbled before she had even pulled the fork out of her mouth.
We sat at a table in the gardens. I had asked the staff to pull something together at the last minute. We were supposed to meet at the bakery, but apparently she woke up that morning and decided the baker and I could swing it. Which we did, of course.
My phone vibrated on the table. I glanced at the screen. Another text from Parker.
I left them all unread. He hadn’t stopped texting for two days straight. The level of attention I planned on paying him from the scale of one to ten was minus fifteen. Which was also the approximate number of unread texts I had .
“Is the groom joining us?” I asked the bride as I flipped my phone with the screen down.
“Nope.”
“Is he okay with you choosing the cake on your own?”
I had to ask to spare myself and the baker the inconvenience of a last minute change. In my experience the grooms that didn’t get involved in the planning complained the most and oftentimes they blew up over the same details they swore they didn’t care about.
“We could send him a piece,” the baker offered.
The bride shook her head. “He’s shooting a movie in Vancouver.”
“Can I have his piece?”
Parker’s voice came from behind me. I froze for a moment. Memories assaulted my brain. Of his hands, his mouth on me. Of my mouth on him. A ball of warmth formed low in my belly and I pressed my thigh together.
The women at the table greeted him with smiles, while I remained with my back to him. We sat at a round table for eight with only three seats occupied and of course he decided to sit right next to me.
“Hello, Mr. Wilson,” the baker started. “I didn’t know you would be joining us.”
“It was a spur of the moment decision.”
I still didn’t look at him, but I was sure he was smiling. His tone sounded cheery. The baker’s otherwise pale face was covered in pink spots and she stuttered. “I will fetch you a piece immediately.”
She disappeared and left me alone with Parker and the bride.
“Maybe you should call the groom and ask him about the cake,” he said to our client. “We men often say things without thinking too much and then we regret it.”
I couldn’t hold the snort. The bride’s eyes flew in my direction .
“Yeah. You know what?” She smiled at Parker. “I’m going to call him right now.”
Then she stood up and in a matter of a minute since he came, we were left completely alone.
“Thanks about that by the way,” I pointed at the bride with my chin. “All her phone conversations last about an hour, but who cares, right? It’s not like I have better things to do than sit and wait at this table.”
Parker leaned too close for my comfort and whispered in my ear. “An hour? Guess how many times I could make you come in an hour.”
“Zero,” I deadpanned, and he laughed. And that's when I finally looked at him.
There was no trace of regret on his face. That was what I feared the most, didn’t I? That he decided what happened was a huge mistake. A violation of the memory of his perfect wife.
God, I really was an awful person. I was jealous of a dead woman. But how could I not be when he made his living space into something like a tomb? Even if he was ready to sleep around, that didn’t mean she wasn’t the permanent resident of his heart.
That thought made my own heart stop for a second.
Why do you care if he still loves her or not? It’s not like you want his affections.
It was just some post orgasmic gratitude. He made me come. I made him come. I might have been feeling grossly proud of the fact that I was the woman that brought him back to the land of the red blooded men that got laid. But that was it. Orgasms and ego. Nothing more than that.
Why can’t you stop looking at his smile then?
I stood up and hunched over the table, rearranging the perfectly positioned utensils and glasses just to have something to do .
“Is anyone training these people after you hire them or it's enough for you if they know what a napkin is?” I snapped at him.
“You’re avoiding me,” he said, ignoring my comment about his staff. Two could play that game. In fact, I was sure I was better at that game than he was. If he could ignore my words, I could certainly ignore him. So I remained silent. Then he released a sigh and tried another topic. “Any family gatherings soon?”
I didn’t even glance his way when I answered. “No.”
Not that my mother hadn’t been pestering me for another dinner and a wedding date announcement.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Why do you ask?”
“For small talk’s sake, I guess.”
“I planned to hit the spa.”
“Are you getting a massage?” He asked with a smirk on his handsome face. “Any particular place that needs a rub?”
“That's sexual harassment.”
He lifted his hands in the air in mock surrender. “I want to take you out on a date. That’s all. Unless you want more of course. Then I would be happy to help with any ache you might have in that gorgeous body of yours.”
“A date?” I spat in his direction. “You can't be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Our eyes locked. All I saw in his gaze was calmness and determination. And lust. But maybe that was understandable. We sort of left things unfinished. And our chemistry was off the charts. That was hands-down the best sex of my life and he hadn’t even entered me.
But going on a date? I didn’t think so.
“No,” I said in what I hoped was a flat, disinterested tone .
“And why not?”
“Your fake dating responsibilities extend to family gatherings only. Us hanging out together on random occasions will cause more problems than it would solve.”
“I don't want to take you out on a fake date. I plan it to be a very real one.”
I glanced at the bride. She was still on the phone. And the baker was nowhere to be seen. How long did it take to bring a piece of freaking cake?
“I'll go check on Lisa.”
Parker shot up from his chair, grabbed my hand and held it in his. “One date.” His eyes were pleading. “No pretending.”
I hesitated. “It’s not a good time to be having this conversation.”
“We could’ve had it in private, but you refused to answer my calls and texts.”
“I’m working right now.”
“Say yes and the conversation ends.”
“I say no.”
“Why?”
Because you’re already in love with someone and even though I love challenges, I have no idea how to compete with a dead woman.
“Are you seriously asking me that?”
He squeezed my hand. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at seven.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he released my hand from his grip then smoothed his tie. “I’ll skip the cake now. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have something else for dessert when we get back from our date tomorrow.” He winked and left.
That last comment combined with his sexy wink made my cheeks heat up, my heart race and my legs feel weak .
The next morning, Parker knocked at my door at seven a.m. like he said he would. When I swung it open, his eyes traveled up and down my body. The hunger in them quickly transformed into a scowl.
“Change into normal clothes,” he ordered.
“Good morning to you too.” I squeezed the door handle harder, tempted to slam the thing into his face. “These are normal clothes.”
“Not for where we’re going.”
He had ditched the suits, wearing black joggers and a white tee that peeked underneath his unzipped hoodie. The backpack I noticed was the thing that almost caused me a cardiac arrest.
“I’m not hiking.”
Parker released a wolfish grin and pointed at my feet. “Not in these shoes you’re not. I’ll let you plan our next date, love. Promise. Now go change.”
“There will be no next date. I don’t want to go on this one either.”
“And yet, here you are. Ready for me to pick you up.”
“I’m not hiking,” I repeated, mainly because I didn’t want to answer his insinuation that I was anticipating his arrival.
“Relax, we’re not going to hike. Keep the dress if you insist but you have to change the shoes. Wear sneakers.”
“I can’t wear sneakers with this dress.” I pointed at the white bodycon on me.
He sighed. “Then maybe you could change your outfit. You know, like I suggested at the beginning of this meaningless conversation.”
“If you don’t like talking to me, then maybe you shouldn’t ask me out,” I slammed the door in his face and trudged inside.
My phone buzzed with a text message.
Parker: You have ten minutes. I’ll be in the car.
Asshole. But I had to admit that at least he never gloated when he won an argument. Which only made him even more likable .
I put on a pair of leggings, a cropped tank top and a hoodie that I barely used, changed my shoes, and nine minutes after I received Parker’s message I slipped into his car.
“That’s better.” He started the engine and drove off the parking lot of The Gem.
“So? What are we doing today?”
“We are doing something I have the feeling both of us desperately need.”
“Which is?”
“We are going to have fun.”
***
I gave up pretending I wasn’t having fun about four hours later while exploring the jellyfish exhibit at SeaWorld. It was mesmerizing. Tanks of various sizes filled with swirling colors and delicate tentacles floating gracefully in the water. I stared at it in awe when someone bumped into me, sending me flying right into the tank. My hands shot forward, but before I hit the glass, Parker grabbed a fistful of my hoodie and yanked me backwards, then sent a death glare towards a group of teenagers.
I started sweating from the embarrassment. I almost face planted into a tank with jellyfish in a room full of people. My face burned and I was glad that I woke early enough to put on makeup. Otherwise the shame I felt would be visible for every single person. Glancing around I found out no one was looking at me. Not even Parker. Both his hands were shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, sparring me no attention at all .
Why did I feel so embarrassed? It was such a casual situation. Even if I had hit the tank, all of these people would have forgotten about it two minutes later. No one cared.
So I decided that if all of these people didn’t even spare me a second glance, I could have a day of not caring about my appearance either. I would let go, stuff my face with junk food and have fun.
An hour later Parker and I settled into our seats at the edge of the Splash Zone, eagerly awaiting the start of the dolphin show. We didn’t talk much and yet it wasn’t weird at all. We shared a comfortable silence. Our bodies touched randomly from time to time. The only premeditated touching on both our sides was when he placed his hand on my back to navigate me somewhere. I liked it and it surprised me more than I had words to describe.
The announcer's voice echoed, signaling the beginning of the dolphin show. Parker glanced at me, his eyes sparkling with…something. I smiled in return. It was probably the most sincere moment I had allowed us two to have ever. We weren’t two people bound by a complicated contract of mutual financial interest at that moment. I wasn’t fake dating him to appease my mother. He wasn’t a widower who was using me as a rebound. We were just two people having a day off from our messed up lives.
Was that what people referred to as happiness? The serenity Parker and I shared in that moment? Or maybe I was making things complicated again. Like Parker once accused me of doing.
Was I doing it in all aspects of my life? Like my mother for example. I was in my thirties. Would it really be that bad if I told her to respectfully mind her own business? Could I start living my life with the possibility of feeling something for someone? A family seemed like too much for me to handle but maybe someday I would be ready for that too .
Parker leaned forward slightly as he didn’t want to miss a single moment from the show and I focused my attention on the pool. The dolphins burst from the water in a dazzling display of acrobatics. Their sleek bodies cut through the air with effortless grace, sending arcs of water cascading in every direction. In my eagerness to take it all in, I leaned a little too far forward. Suddenly, a massive wave of water surged over the edge of the pool, drenching me from head to toe.
I gasped in shock, feeling the icy water soak through my clothes and plaster my hair to my face. For a moment, I was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Then, laughter bubbled up from deep within me, spilling out in uncontrollable giggles. Parker turned to me, completely soaked as well, grinning and pulling me closer as we watched the rest of the show unfold. When it ended Parker tried to stand up, but I reached out and squeezed his hand. He remained seated, but turned his body in my direction. He didn’t lean in, nor did he initiate any physical contact. He just looked at me. I was probably a complete mess with makeup running down my face. And he still looked at me like I was beautiful. Or at least that’s how he made me feel. And then I realized that Parker had seen me, the real me, quite a few times now.
The real Madison, who almost messed up her little sister’s wedding.
Madison, who lost her job because of her injured ego.
And Madison, who acted like a little girl that was scared to confront her mother.
Parker saw all of that and strangely he hadn’t really run for the hills.
People were bumping into us as they were leaving and he just looked at me. Waiting for me to speak or act without pushing me.
“I want to kiss you,” I blurted out and a second later I burst into tears .
He grabbed the front of my hoodie in a fist and dragged me forward until my body was flushed with his.
We didn’t kiss. He just hugged me while I wept.