Chapter Twenty-Four
“I don’t know who’s worse.” Sports bra clinging wetly to her breasts, Holly dropped her towel next to her gym bag. Despite the cooldown, her pulse still thudded a little, lungs full of that lovely post-cardio burn. “His mama or mine.”
A wide smile stretched Lorraine’s full mouth. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her chest and arms. “Oh, I bet it’s Mona. She’s been waiting for this for years.”
“Sue has her moments.” The pair of older women formed a wedding juggernaut for sure, full of ideas and suggestions. Sue possessed a wealth of practical knowledge and local contacts, though, so Holly had been surprised with how quickly they’d made progress with planning.
And Sue listened to her more than her own mama did, a super nice surprise. Holly had a sweet little relationship unfolding with her future mother-in-law, and she kind of loved that. Sue was in her absolute element, which was fun to watch, too.
Holly tightened up her ponytail, wedding details sparkling through her mind in a giddy flow. She would have the most gorgeous flowers ever, thanks to Sue, and Mrs. Lenora was chasing down vintage furniture for their outdoor ceremony on the lake at Pinecrest. “Did I tell you I found my dress?”
Brows raised, Lorraine froze in the middle of patting down her neck and chest. “Excuse me? You went dress shopping without me?”
“No.” Holly waved that away with an as-if gesture. How could Lorraine even entertain that? “I was thinking about Caitlin wearing her great-grandmother’s dress and I went over to Mama’s and dragged Grandma’s out of the attic and tried it on. Oh, my Lord, Lorraine.”
“You’re wearing your grandma’s wedding dress from the sixties.
” Disbelief sent Lorraine’s brows higher.
Holly got that – she’d been skeptical upon removing the dress from its storage box, but it had so much potential.
The veil was adorable, too, a lace cap to be fastened over an updo and trailing layers of tulle to the middle of her back.
Maybe she’d wear one layer for Colt to lift and kiss her or have it altered to a vintage-style birdcage veil.
“Once I have it altered, yes.” Holly waved her arms like a bird taking flight. “Those gauzy bell sleeves have to go, but the shape and fabric are gorgeous. And it fits like a dream. Megan McGuire is going to do my alterations.”
“That’s great.” Lorraine pouted. “I was looking forward to the whole hunt for the dress thing, though.”
“Come with me when I meet with Megan.” Holly shrugged and shouldered her bag. She pulled her phone free and scrolled through the texts she’d missed during their fitness dance class. Her mama, Sue, Barb . . .
Hey, Andy and Grace want us to ride over to the American for dinner tomorrow night
Smiling, she held the message down to like it, then pressed again to change the thumbs up to a heart because she did love it, the ordinary life they carved out together. The American was wonderful, and she liked Andy and Grace. And she really, really loved the man who wanted to be her husband.
A girl couldn’t ask for a better night — or a better life.
“When are you meeting up with Megan?” Lorraine lifted her own bag.
“After work one day next week.” Her butt and thighs aching from the workout, Holly headed for the door. She grasped the handle and tugged. “What days work for you—”
The changing room door swung inward, the edge almost taking out her nose as the woman headed in stumbled forward. Holly jumped back, a startled laugh bursting from her throat even as embarrassed heat flashed over her cheeks.
“Lord, I am so sorry.” She reached to steady the newcomer, the blonde muttering a curse and leaning down for her dropped bag. “This entrance is a menace—”
The words died in her throat, her gaze locked with a familiar pair of disdainful blue eyes. Holly blinked, staring at the one woman she’d hoped never to see again.
“Why am I not surprised?” Allison’s eyes narrowed, a smirk curling her lips.
She remained thin and trim, blonde hair in a bouncy ponytail, the highlighted shade a little too bright.
Her makeup, a little too heavy about her eyes and with the highlighter, was flawless.
“Grace and finesse never were your thing, hmm, Holly?”
True, but Allison had never been an example of kindness and compassion, either. Holly bit back the comment – they weren’t in high school anymore and she refused to be petty.
She straightened her shoulders, aware Lorraine might not bite back any comment she had. And Lorraine always had a comment. Unsmiling, she held the door wider. “Lots of people have a hard time with this door their first time here. Goodnight.”
Lorraine waited until they were in the short hallway to smack Holly’s arm, hard enough to sting. “Goodnight? You actually told that . . . that . . . woman goodnight?”
A faint smile pulled at Holly’s mouth. She never wanted to see Allison again, but the other woman’s mother still lived here.
They ran across one another every so often.
She set her bag down long enough to tug her hoodie over her head.
“What do you want me to do? Cuss her out for being at the gym? Mona would kill me.”
“Maybe not speak to her at all. What did they call it back in the day? Give her the cut.” Lorraine shook her head. Her entire body quivered with indignation as she zipped her own jacket, in her signature shade of royal purple. “The heifer.”
Holly made a noise in her throat, half amusement, half agreement. She lowered her voice as they made their way to the exit, waving at a few lingering classmates along the way. “How did we tolerate her for two years?”
“I don’t know.” Lorraine huffed a longsuffering sigh and shoved the door open. A cool breeze wrapped about them, ruffling the crepe myrtles lining the sidewalk, lit up with twinkle lights for the holidays. Lorraine lifted a hand in an expansive gesture. “Because we loved Lamar and he loved her.”
“Ugh.” A cold shudder worked its way over Holly’s body. “Do we have to say that like it’s true?”
“It is true.” Lorraine fixed her with a look. “You don’t think that mess with her and Colt hurting him so bad was all about Colt, do you?”
The shudder landed in her belly in an icy lump.
If Allison was the last person she wanted to see, then Colt being with her was the last thing she wanted to think about.
That event had always been cerebral for her – Tick showing up at a party, finding them together, ending his relationship with Allison, turning his back on Colt.
She’d ached for them, but in Holly’s head, the fallout had been about Tick and Colt.
She hadn’t had to really consider how the event involved Colt and Allison.
Now, she knew what his kiss and his touch felt like, what his body felt like next to hers, inside hers.
Knowing he’d been with Tyler, with other women before her?
She’d accepted that because, well, they were adults, and while Mona expected her to wait for marriage, that didn’t happen often.
She’d been with other men, he’d been with other women, and their pasts were simply part of who they were.
Normally, she appreciated his experience because she understood the value of a man who knew what he was doing in bed.
But he’d been with Allison, and even nine years on, the idea defined stomach-turning.
It didn’t make sense, either. He’d tolerated Allison as well, guarding Jada from her poison, trying to talk Tick out of the relationship on more than one occasion .
. . so how did his winding up in bed with Allison make sense?
A frown twisted her brows into a tight vee, skin pulling. He’d been drunk. Could the alcohol do that, override his dislike?
Because surely that dislike hadn’t been a cover for something else.
She wasn’t letting this under her skin. With a sigh of her own, she met Lorraine’s knowing gaze. “I really cannot stand her, even now.”
Maybe more so now. And maybe that dislike made her petty, but she didn’t care.
Lorraine harrumphed, high in her nose. “That makes two of us.”
With a hug and plans for Lorraine to join her for her first dress fitting, they parted ways at their cars.
Holly waited for Lorraine to back out first, the Escalade blocking her view of the street.
The heater warming, Holly ran a fingertip around the edge of her phone, unwanted images flicking through her head like one of those old film strips, jumpy and out of focus, disconnected.
She cleared her mind as ruthlessly as Grandma picked weeds out of her garden plot. She did not want to imagine Colt’s hands on Allison, touching her the way he touched Holly. Wanting to connect with him in the now, rather than in the murky past, she launched their text thread.
What are you doing?
Bubbles hovered before forming a rapid reply. Sitting on the couch, halfway watching a movie
Her fingers shook above the screen. They hadn’t planned to see each other tonight – she had laundry to do after the gym – but she needed . . . something. To be close to him, maybe to pick his brain about what had happened with Allison all those years ago, to reassure herself in the now.
But.
He didn’t need her picking his brain, bringing the old memories back to life for him.
That night had devastated his life. She didn’t need to reawaken any of that.
Didn’t she have enough to reassure herself now?
He loved her, and she hadn’t ever seen him look at anyone the way he looked at her.
He wanted to marry her, make a life with her.
So she was going to take her sweaty, neurotic, abandonment-issues-riddled self home and jump in the shower. She would do her laundry, hang her scrubs so they didn’t wrinkle, and edit some photos.
Maybe turn on one of those stupid foreign movies he liked in the background.
Then she would go to bed and dream of him.