14. Chapter 14
Groom's Dinner & Wedding Day
W ren poked at her rich tiramisu. The few bites she’d had were as delicious as the dinner had been. The rooftop restaurant Jackson and Miller booked was excellent, and the weather had cooperated. A large storm front had stalled over Haven, causing rain and thunderstorms to pester them all week. Today was the first dry day, and the sun had graced Haven all day long. Now, the stars twinkled down on them. Wren hoped this boded well for tomorrow’s outdoor wedding. Wren knew most of the guests at the party, and the few out-of-towners she’d met were all pleasant.
Overall, a perfect groom’s dinner for Emily and Jackson. But she couldn’t wait to escape and watched the clock, waiting for an appropriate time to leave.
She was tired. Hopefully, after she moved next week, she’d find a new equilibrium. Telling Cindy and Dale about Wallflowers closing had been harder than she’d thought it would, but they’d rallied around her and had been an enormous support to her over the last few weeks. Best employees, ever , Wren thought. Her customers didn’t know, and Wren struggled to maintain a cheerful facade with them even though she felt like she was lying most of the time.
She also was lying to her friends. The only one she’d told about the break-up was Krista. Rica worked with Miller so she wasn’t an option. London didn’t have a warm and nurturing side. Nelie was too busy with the Galley. And she didn’t want to burst the happy bubble surrounding Emily, the bride-to-be.
Krista, however, had turned out to be the perfect confidant. She was a great listener, empathetic, available, and they agreed on movies and ice cream. Krista even called Wren in the morning to make sure she was up, dressed, and groomed. Wren hadn’t disclosed her mystery man, and Krista hadn’t pressed.
She’d also told Krista about losing her lease and Wallflowers. She was embarrassed about it, but telling Krista had helped. Krista agreed with her that it would be best not to tell anyone else. There was nothing they could do anyway other than feel sorry for her. She didn’t need pity, she needed time.
Wren still had her fingers crossed that Eric would find her an affordable space to rent. And, if by the end of the year he hadn’t, well, then she’d rethink her decision to stay in Haven. But for now at least, her secret was safe from Miller so he wouldn’t do anything stupid to jeopardize his AAS partnership.
At night, her brain raced with all the tasks and details left in closing the business, packing her belongings, and deciding what to do next. Should she get a job? Go back to waitressing? Paint and live off her nest egg? Cut her loses and start over somewhere warm? Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of loss. She’d lost her business, her home, and the best friend and lover she’d ever hoped to have—Miller.
Not for the first time, she wondered why doing the right thing had to feel so bad. Staying with Miller would have been wrong. She’d either have had to lose herself to help him to make his goal or he’d have had to give up his goal for her. Most of the time it looked like a lose-lose scenario.
But maybe it would have worked if he’d taken her concerns seriously. They could have addressed her fears together. Of course, all this wool-gathering assumed Diane would drop her campaign and the partners at AAS would accept Miller without a matching gold band on Michelle’s finger.
Miller had been right about one thing: Michael had spent his extra hours with his mistress and not at work. She’d forgotten about that until Miller had thrown it in her face. It had been easier to blame the break-up of her marriage on Michael’s work rather than accept her part in its demise. She’d lost herself in her marriage, and that was one reason it had failed. She wouldn’t lose herself again.
The guests started to leave. Wren said her goodbyes to Emily and Jackson, being careful to avoid Miller. She slipped out and headed home. Tonight, it would be lavender spray on her pillows and two sleeping pills chased with a glass of warm milk. She needed a good night’s sleep. There would be no avoiding Trouble tomorrow.
T he weather continued to cooperate for the late-afternoon outdoor wedding at the Hart Hotel’s Rose Garden. It was sunny with a slight breeze that hinted at the fall weather to come. Wren was thrilled with the floral bouquets and the other decorations for the wedding. It was her best work to date. Might be goin’ out with a bang. Wren shook her head to chase away the negative thought.
The bridesmaids’ nosegays held champagne spray roses, variegated orange tea roses, soft orange ranunculus, purple antique hydrangea blooms, berries, and seeded eucalyptus. The colors were a perfect complement to their floor-length, V-neck navy and cream dresses.
Emily had argued navy was too dark for a late-afternoon wedding, but London, known for her fashion sense and unbiased since she wasn’t a member of the wedding party, pointed out that the satin cream bodice with the navy lace overlay gave it a brighter look and a lighter feel. Thank goodness Emily was amenable, and they’d talked her out of her original dress choice. Orange was beautiful as a rose, but not as a bridesmaid dress.
Emily sparkled in her white A-line wedding gown with its off-the-shoulder sweetheart bodice and lace neckline that carried over to the scalloped lace short sleeves. The neckline showcased Mrs. Hart’s pearl choker, Emily’s something old and borrowed. Her something new was the diamond and pearl drop earrings Jackson had given her last night on their romantic, moonlit carriage ride along the river. Emily had blushed when she’d told her bridal party that Jackson would discover her something blue after the reception.
Wren focused on the minister’s words. It was easier than focusing on Miller, who stood opposite of her during the ceremony. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo. The men wore black suit pants and a navy tuxedo jacket with satin black lapels over starched white tuxedo shirts with black button covers and a black bow tie.
Wren had pinned the boutonnieres, an orange tea rose with a hint of hydrangea and eucalyptus, on all the men before the ceremony. When it had been Miller’s turn, she’d pushed too hard on the pin and pricked her finger. She’d immediately put pressure on the pinprick, but Miller had taken her hand and gently kissed the wound.
“You look breathtaking. Save a dance for me,” he’d pleaded before walking away. Wren had stood there like an idiot for several minutes. She knew she could get through the day if he was hostile toward her, but if he was going to be nice and look at her longingly, it would be a disaster for her heart and her convictions.
She thought the ceremony would be a painful reminder of her failure. But it wasn’t. Listening to the minister, Wren realized she wasn’t the same naive girl who’d taken similar vows five years ago. In fact, she wasn’t even the same scared woman she’d been a year ago. She felt secure. Capable. Confident. Loved. And it was all because of the generous, gorgeous man across from her.
He let me be me . He hadn’t expected anything from her. He’d accepted her for who she was. A rare gift Wren had never experienced before. He hadn’t judged her clothes, what she ate, or how she spent her free time. When she’d spent Sunday afternoons curled up on his couch with a romance novel, Miller hadn’t read the back cover and teased her. Instead, he’d ask if he could bring her a cup of tea. Miller was the best, and losing him was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
As fate would have it, Miller was her escort down the aisle at the end of the ceremony. Wren concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other and breathing. She smiled at everyone, but did not look at Miller.
Picture taking immediately followed the ceremony. Guests wandered into the hotel for the cocktail hour while the wedding party and family remained in the gardens for the never-ending photos. Krista stuck by Wren’s side like a guard dog.
Emily and Jackson kept the receiving line down to just them and their parents, but with almost three hundred guests, it took time. The servers shifted out of happy hour and set up the buffets. Wren and Krista each grabbed a glass of sangria and made their way to where the wedding party was sitting.
Despite Emily’s easygoing nature, she’d been adamant about no head table. She didn’t care if she was bucking tradition. She’d argued it was bad enough that she and Jackson would be the center of attention all day long, and the last thing she wanted was people watching her eat. Wren agreed with her.
Krista had suggested the wedding party sit at one round table, with parents and grandparents at another. Emily and Jackson could have a table for two between them. It was a perfect solution. Priscilla, serving as Jackson’s best person, had thrown a wrench into the usual boy-girl seating arrangement. But that had made it easy for Wren to switch Miller’s place card with Pris’s, so she sat between Pris and Parker.
Dinner was winding down and the waitstaff were busy clearing away the pasta bar, the macaroni and cheese station, the carving station, the salad bar, and the side-dish station. Wren thought it was much nicer than a buffet and a lot less stuffy than her sit-down dinner had been. It allowed the guests to mingle more and stand in line less. Emily had been smart when she’d delegated the food decisions to Krista. For all her moodiness, Krista was excellent at her job and an incredible friend. If they found themselves sentimental at the end of the evening, she just might admit it to her.
The guests clinked their glasses and Emily and Jackson did not disappoint them on the expected kiss. Jackson dipped Emily low and kissed her thoroughly. Soon it was time for the toasts. Pris shared some amusing tales of Jackson’s early dating disasters, and Sarah, Emily’s sister, told how they’d play wedding as children. Today, the dresses were finer, the food tastier, and Jackson was a much better-looking groom than Mr. Boo Bear had been. But some things were the same: love, hope, and a happily-ever-after. There was more glass clinking from the guests, and Wren joined in, but stopped when Miller stood.
“Emily”—Miller raised his champagne flute—“on behalf of Jackson’s friends, we’d like to thank you for being so patient while he pulled his head out of his ass.” He waited for the laughter to die down. “He had this stupid, stupid idea you could only be his work assistant.” Miller shook his head sadly to emphasize his point. “His goal was to make Hart Hotels the luxury hotel boutique brand, but he was afraid, if you left again, Hart Hotels would suffer. With your patience and our encouragement, he came around.“ Miller looked around the audience, but his gaze stopped at Wren.
“He got over his fear and he changed his goal. You became the goal. It’s important to have dreams and goals. They guide us, they motivate us, but they aren’t written in stone. When you’re chasing your dreams, the most important thing to have at your side is the person you dream about.” He turned his attention back to the happy couple. “Jackson, you’ve got your dream girl. Congratulations!” Emily dabbed the corner of her eyes, walked over, and hugged Miller. More clinking ensued for the happy couple.
It was a light hug. A friendly hug. Wren remembered how great Miller’s hugs were, especially the head-to-toe, full-body, way-past-friendly hugs. Too many memories. Too many good ones. Watching him and listening to him during his toast had been sweet torture. He’d looked at her the whole time, his bright blue eyes pinning her to her chair, but his words made little sense. The only thing she understood was her overwhelming sense of loss.
Watching the light, friendly hug between Emily and Miller pushed her to the edge of breaking. Right here. Right now. In public. She clenched her hands in her lap, hoping it would hold her together.
She watched Emily and Jackson take their first spin on the dance floor as husband and wife. The song, “Lucky” by Colbie Caillat and Jason Mraz, could have been written for them. Wren wiped the corner of her eye. Right now it was tears of joy for her friend, but it wouldn’t take much for it to morph into ugly sobbing.
Wren hadn’t seen Miller until he tapped her shoulder. “Dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. Wren wanted to refuse, but she knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer. And she didn’t want to be the first guest to cause a scene.
“That would be lovely,” the ice maiden responded. Wren placed a frozen, polite smile on her face. Miller looked amused as he led her to the dance floor. She felt the heat of his hand singe through her bridesmaid’s dress. Her traitorous body didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and it didn’t fight to escape when Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” ended and Etta James’s “At Last” began.
“The flowers are lovely. You outdid yourself. I heard several people commenting on them,” he said near her ear, sending shivers down her back.
“Really? You liked all the colors?” the ice maiden asked. Miller chuckled.
“I know what you’re trying to do and picking a fight with a color-blind man won’t work. I saw most of the colors and I liked the shape of the ones I didn’t. Just accept the compliment.” Wren didn’t have the energy to fight him, so she decided the best way to get through this was to humor him.
“Thank you. I’m glad Emily went with the orange roses and not the orange dresses.”
“You would have looked beautiful in whatever she’d chosen.” His baritone voice soothed her frayed nerves. Wren fought to maintain her stiff posture. Her melting spine didn’t help. Her body had a mind of its own this evening, and it wouldn’t take much for it to betray her heart. Wren knew if she looked at him the ice maiden would melt.
She had to stay strong. For her. For him. For his future. She focused on his boutonniere. Miller cleared his throat. “I know about the shop. I know Diane had your lease terminated. You should have told me,” Miller whispered near her ear. He sounded calm, but his body tensed as he tightened his fingers around hers.
“Have you picked out your furniture? Craftsman style would be lovely with the exposed brick on the front wall.”
He stepped back slightly and looked at her. “Are you telling me Wallflowers was going to be my office?”
“Yes. Diane came to measure the day after I received my notice.”
“Dammit, Ginge, you should have told me!” Miller growled and pulled her against his solid body. The ice maiden didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. Wren softened in his arms. She needed this brief moment of comfort.
“Can we please not talk about this?” she asked.
“What are you going to do?” Miller countered. Wren sighed. So much for not talking.
“I’m not sure. Barb’s Buds is opening another location, and she’s asked me to manage it.”
“Don’t,” Miller begged in her ear. “Haven has enough florists. You should paint. The world needs your paintings.” She looked up. His handsome face was so close it wouldn’t be hard to kiss his warm lips.
“Thank you. Your faith in my talent means a lot. To be honest, I have thought about it. Someday, maybe. I’m just not sure how it would work now.” She felt him tense.
“Damn, he’s headed this way,” Miller muttered.
“Who?”
“Jordan something or other. A cousin on Jackson’s side he had to invite. Guy’s a jerk. He met up with us in Milwaukee and bragged that he’s banged a bridesmaid at every wedding he’s ever been to. We’re keeping an eye on all of you in case he gets too handsy.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.” Wren stepped back and the ice maiden stepped in.
“I know you can, which is why the idea of rescuing you is so appealing.”
“I don’t need rescuing, either,” the ice maiden said. Wren was eager for Jordan’s interruption. She needed to escape Miller’s arms. OK, maybe I do need rescuing , she thought bitterly.
“Can I drive you home?” Miller asked. He must have sensed his time was almost up.
“That’s not necessary. I have the delivery van. Thank you.”
“Then let me know when you go. I need to show you something. Please?” Wren nodded yes as Jordan cut in to their dance.
She’d follow Miller. She owed him that much. She’d see whatever it was he wanted her to see, and then she’d be done with the whole thing. Following Miller was her penance. And her crime was loving a man she couldn’t have.
M iller watched Wren all night. Every time she was on the dance floor, his stomach knotted. From the number of times Jordan had asked Wren to dance, Miller guessed the guy was hoping to add her to his statistic. He would have stepped in, but he enjoyed watching Wren handle him. From the cold looks she’d given him, Miller guessed Wren was treating Jordan to her ice-maiden routine, which she used in social situations to maintain manners and proper decorum or when she felt threatened. She also used prickly. Those were her two tells. When the prickly ice maiden showed up, he knew he had to gently push through the brick wall around her heart.
After watching her remove Jordan’s hand from her ass for about the eighth time, Wren left the dance floor and Jordan walked toward Krista. Miller saw Croix stand up from their table and move toward Krista. Wren stood on the opposite side of the dance floor and turned her head as if scanning the crowd. Miller was embarrassed by how much he hoped she was looking for him. Their eyes met. He mouthed the question ‘Now?’ and she nodded. He wiped his hands on his pants. Go time.
Miller’s SUV crept through downtown Haven. The streets weren’t busy this time of night, but he didn’t want to lose her. He’d been too nervous to give her the address, and she hadn’t asked for it. He debated which door to use. Neither made a great first impression. He settled on the back door. He knew he’d look suspicious fumbling with the lock on the street side.
“Hold this.” He handed Wren a flashlight so he could unlock the backdoor. “Watch your step,” he warned as they entered the building. Wren followed too closely and stumbled into him when he halted. He reached for her hand to steady her. She didn’t pull it away.
Since signing the lease, they’d added lightbulbs in the sockets, cleaned, and framed in the various rooms. It was an overwhelming work in progress.
Miller pushed on a creaky door. He led her into the dark space, fumbling to find the new light switch. Once he did, he stretched his arms wide in the middle of the room and declared, “Welcome to Fortress Advisers, where we protect your assets. Accounting services by Croix Adams, financial planning by Rica Palma, and legal services by Miller Lynch.” He watched Wren look around wide-eyed and, for once, her sassy mouth was sealed shut. Miller used his free hand to point out where the different rooms would be.
“I-I don’t understand. What about AAS? Partnership?” Wren jerked her hand out of his and stepped away.
“They offered. I turned them down and quit. Everything I wanted from being a partner I can get from being my own boss.”
“But partnership was your goal.” She wrapped her arms around herself, as if warning him to stay away.
“Goals change,” he explained. Wren remained silent. She stood there looking at everything. Miller hoped she was envisioning how great it would look when it was finished, but based on her body language she was most likely envisioning his head on a silver platter. “Follow me.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her up the stairs.
“We’re thinking of using the south side for storage. Our goal is to be as paperless as possible, but you can’t escape some filing.” He tried to coax a smile out of her. Wren had complained that filing and storage were the bane of her existence. Nothing. No reaction.
“With the plumbing, we can run a line up here and install a sink. That large window looks out onto the river, and if we add a few skylights on the north side, here and here”—Miller gestured to their proposed locations—“then you’d have great afternoon light.” Miller stopped to catch his breath.
Wren dropped his hand and wandered over to the window. Her blank expression reflected back at him. She’s probably shocked. You need to stay calm, he reminded himself as he walked to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back into him. She didn’t resist. He wrapped his arms around her.
“We’re also looking for a part-time receptionist and manager. You could paint part-time and work for us part-time. Or you could paint full-time and we’ll hire someone else. Or we can clear out my home office and you can use that as a studio instead.”
“Lots of options,” she said flatly.
“Wren, weren’t you listening to my speech? I want there to be an us. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.” Wren shrugged out of his embrace and stepped away.
“I won’t freeload off you,” the ice maiden said with her head held high.
“Good, because most of my money’s tied up in starting this business.” She’s scared.
“I don’t need your charity.” She’s terrified .
“It’s not charity, you stubborn woman. Fortress needs someone who can manage and coordinate. You have those skills and you’re great with people. Trust me, you’ll be dealing with Croix so you’ll earn every penny,” he said, harsher than he’d intended. She was testing his patience. He’d dreamed of her flying into his arms and quickly agreeing. He should have known she’d stand her ground and be prickly.
“I’m a little overwhelmed. Can I think about it?” she finally asked. Her shoulders slumped as if all the fight had left her.
Miller walked over and cupped her face in his hands. Tread carefully , he reminded himself. “Think about this, too.” Miller leaned in and kissed her. It was a kiss filled with new beginnings and hope. Wren pulled back when her stomach grumbled.
“I didn’t eat much tonight.”
“You didn’t eat much last night, either.”
“I’ve been a little stressed, Counselor,” she tried to joke. Miller wanted to point out she brought most of the stress upon herself, but he kept his mouth shut. If she’d told him what was going on, they could have shared the stress.
“Well, Artist, I’ll follow you home.”
They retraced their steps through the construction and turned off the lights. Exiting was quicker than entering had been. They parted at their vehicles and he followed Wren back to her apartment.
Now it was Wren’s turn to warn, “Watch your step,” as they walked into her kitchen. Miller pretended to stumble over a box and reached for her hand. “Funny guy,” Wren said over her shoulder. She set her fancy, satin, too-small-to-be-useful clutch on the kitchen table. Miller surveyed all the packed boxes. It didn’t surprise him that they were all neatly labeled.
“Where are you moving to?”
“I’m moving into Emily’s bungalow with Rica until I have a plan.” Miller leaned against the table.
“That’s a relief,” he admitted.
“Afraid I would skip town, Counselor?”
“Yes, I was. I know how much you hate the cold and you haven’t found a new location for Wallflowers, so leaving wouldn’t be too difficult. But I’ve got connections, so I knew I’d be able to find you.” Wren sat sprawled on two stacked boxes and played with her ring. She didn’t look at him. “I was serious about turning my office into a studio. I’m also serious about you moving in with me.”
“Wow, you certainly have this all thought out,” she huffed. Miller strode toward her and stopped between her legs. He was grateful for her unladylike pose. It allowed him to get closer to her. Although the long, full skirt left everything to his imagination.
“I’m a planner, remember?” He fingered a strand of her hair that had escaped the chignon at the base of her neck. Wren nodded her head and smiled weakly. “Why didn’t you tell me about the eviction? You know I would have helped. I could have stopped it or tied it up.”
“I was afraid you’d do something stupid and ruin your chance for partnership. I didn’t want you to lose it because of me. I only want the best for you.” He saw her damp eyes and she sniffled.
“You’re what’s best for me. I love you, Wren.”
“I love you, too, but I’m scared. Really scared.” She wiped her tears with the heel of her hand. “I failed once before, and what I felt for Michael doesn’t even come close to what I feel for you.” Wren wrapped her arms around herself. Miller slowly unwound them and wrapped them around him instead.
“I know you’re scared. Hell, I’m scared, too.” He kissed her gently and slowly. He savored the salty taste of her tears. “But, Wren, remember, I’m not him and we’re not them.” His lips captured hers again. She ran her hands up his chest and buried them in his hair as she arched into him. Possessiveness replaced gentleness as he gripped her hips and pulled her against him.
He stopped and stepped back. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were wide. He needed to leave before either one of them got to the point of no return. “Leaving you is the last thing I want to do, but you’re tired and hungry and I don’t want to take advantage of that.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t say thank you,” Wren teased as she dragged her slim hands down his chest before folding them in her lap.
“You can make it up to me later,” he promised as he picked up her hands and kissed the back of each. Wren tried to pull him closer, but he leaned back. “Goodnight, Wren.” He kissed her forehead and fled before he could change his mind.