Chapter Eighteen #2
“Thank you again for doing this.” For some reason, her throat felt tight and achy.
Probably a normal wedding reaction, she told herself.
Tears at the impending happy moment of someone she cared about.
“I still can’t believe Hannah asked you that day in the grocery store but I’m so very grateful you agreed. ”
His gaze met hers, an intensity in his expression. “From this point on, let’s forget this was ever a bargain. I’m happy to be here, Holly. I mean it. I’m very much looking forward to spending time with you and your cute flower girl. How is she, by the way? Is she nervous?”
“Not a bit,” she said with a laugh. “She’s leaning hard into her princess era.”
He smiled. “I can only imagine. I’m sure she’ll be the best flower girl ever.”
Before she could answer, the organist began playing and the reverend officiating the ceremony spoke into the microphone.
“Will the groom please come forward? And will the congregation please rise for the processional?”
Holly watched Matt Reilly and his best man move to the reverend’s side, the groom trying to look solemn but unable to hide either his nerves or his obvious elation.
She and Ryan both stood and she was intensely aware of him beside her. The subtle, masculine notes of his cologne, amber and musk, teased and tantalized her.
He leaned down to murmur into her ear. “The flowers are gorgeous, by the way. I’m not an expert on flowers, as you well know, but to my untrained eye, everything looks absolutely stunning.”
It was the perfect thing for him to say. Like any woman, she supposed, she appreciated a compliment about her own appearances. That he would remark about her hard work and creative effort meant even more.
The three groomsmen and bridesmaids came down the aisle first, arm in arm, their red spray-rose boutonnieres and bouquets Holly had fashioned looking perfect. Then it was Lydia’s turn, paired with one of Matt’s nephews to walk down the aisle.
By the exclamations of delight, Holly knew she wasn’t the only one who appreciated the cuteness overload as a beaming Lydia skipped down the aisle, tossing petals into the aisle with abandon.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said in a stage whisper as she passed Troy, who was standing about three rows behind them.
Her ex-husband looked as proud as Holly felt as he smiled at their daughter and waved back.
How could she stand in the way of that relationship? If Troy and Brittany wanted Lydia to spend Christmas Eve with them, was Holly being selfish to want to hold her daughter close?
She had her daughter full-time most of the year. How could she begrudge them this time with Lydia?
When Lydia reached her side, she jumped into Holly’s arms. “Hi, Mommy,” she said in that same stage whisper. “Hi, Ry. Did you see me?”
“We did,” Holly answered in a low voice. “You were wonderful, honey. Perfect!”
“The best flower girl I’ve ever seen,” Ryan assured her.
“I know,” Lydia said with a confidence Holly hoped she would never lose.
And then Kristine walked into the chapel on the arm of her father, the bride stunning in a simple gown of ecru satin and carrying the bouquet Holly had worked so hard to make perfect.
She turned her attention to the ceremony, determined to enjoy the moment and not worry about what the future held.
SHE OWED RYAN Caldwell far more than the paltry afternoon she had spent helping him decorate his sister’s house.
He was the perfect plus-one. All afternoon, through the ceremony and the photographs and congratulations, he had chatted easily with Troy’s family and friends. He was polite, interested, attentive to her and to Lydia.
She caught more than one person of her acquaintance watching them with interest. If she wasn’t mistaken, a couple of Troy’s younger female cousins looked almost giddy as they chatted with him.
She couldn’t really blame them. Ryan was impossible to resist.
When the wedding party moved to the historic reception venue across the street from the church, he helped her move the floral sprays at the end of each pew across to the reception, where she used them to adorn the walkway into the elegant building.
And he helped her keep track of Lydia whenever Holly was distracted speaking to someone else she knew.
Now they sat at one of the tables—decorated with more of Holly’s flowers—that were staged around the dance floor in the large reception hall.
“I want to dance, Mama,” Lydia said as the floor began to fill up.
“Let’s go.” Ryan stood and reached for her hand.
As he led Lydia out to the dance floor, Holly knew she wasn’t the only one sighing at the sight of the big, tough guy and the five-year-old girl in the red velvet dress and floral coronet.
“Someone seems to be having a wonderful time.” Stacy, Troy’s older sister, nodded her head to Ryan and Lydia as she eased her bulky frame into one of the empty seats at the table.
“Lydia loves a good party,” Holly said with a smile. “I think she takes after her father in that respect.”
Why wouldn’t Lydia be having a wonderful time, when she currently had the full attention of a man like Ryan Caldwell? Anyone would feel the same. Holly felt the same. The event she had been dreading was being filled with moments she knew would become cherished memories.
“I have been nominated by the aunties to tell you they—we—all approve of your Lieutenant Commander Caldwell.”
She started to automatically reply he wasn’t her Lieutenant Commander Caldwell, then remembered she and Ryan were both pretending otherwise.
“Okay,” she said instead.
“He’s exactly the kind of man you deserve, Hol. Considerate, polite, attentive. And gorgeous. You really hit the jackpot.”
Holly smiled, though she felt a sharp little pang somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. If only their relationship could be more than make-believe.
“Ryan is definitely all those things,” she said.
“You guys are really cute together,” Stacy said. “I see the way he looks at you. Reminds me of when Paul and I were falling in love.”
Holly wondered if the expression she tried to don now appeared besotted or merely dyspeptic. “The early days of a relationship are exciting, aren’t they?”
“With a man like that, I imagine every day of a relationship would be exciting,” Stacy said.
Oh, Holly could imagine it too, entirely too clearly.
“Also, everyone is raving about the flowers. I can’t tell you how many comments I’ve received about how beautiful they are.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“I’ve been telling anyone who will listen they should go to Evergreen and Ivy for all their floral needs.”
“Thanks for the plug. I need all the business I can find.”
The two of them chatted for a few more moments about the trip Stacy and her family planned between Christmas and New Year’s Eve to visit family in California and, of course, hit the beach and Disneyland.
Stacy was telling her about the perfect vacation rental she had found in Anaheim when Ryan and Lydia returned to the table.
“Hi, Aunt Stacy,” Lydia said cheerfully, wiping a drooping curl away from her forehead.
“Hello, darling Lydia. You’ve really got the moves out there on the dance floor.”
“I know I do,” she said with her characteristic complete lack of modesty that made all the adults at the table smile.
“I’m thirsty,” Lydia said.
“You should be. Dancing is hard work,” her aunt said.
Lydia nodded, picking up her glass of water with both hands and taking a long drink.
“Why don’t you two go dance?” Stacy suggested. “I can keep an eye on Lydia for you. Maybe I’ll drag her cousins over here and she can show them all her great dance moves.”
Holly narrowed her gaze at Lydia’s aunt for her not-so-subtle machinations. Stacy only gave her an innocent look in response.
“Sounds like a great idea,” Ryan said. “Shall we, Holly?”
“I don’t really dance,” she protested.
“Yes, you do,” Lydia said, calling her out without compunction. “You dance with me a lot.”
Yes. Twirling around the kitchen with her daughter to some of Lydia’s favorite tunes was a far cry from dancing with Ryan Caldwell, with his sexy scent and his snug suit and his devastating smile.
“Go dance, Mommy,” Lydia urged.
Left with no clear reason to refuse, Holly finally stood. As Ryan reached for her hand, she could swear sparks flashed between them.
With her pulse ratcheting, she slid her fingers into his.
The band had been covering a fast song but, naturally, they switched to a Christmas love song as if on cue the moment she and Ryan hit the dance floor.
Could he feel her pulse race? She really hoped not.
As he pulled her into his arms, she felt surrounded by his strength. The warmth of his hand at the small of her back seeped through her dress, his steady presence wrapping around her like the coziest of blankets on a snowy night.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt safe. She met his gaze and the world outside this moment seemed to melt away. The wedding bustle faded into a blur, leaving only the two of them moving in perfect harmony beneath the twinkling fairy lights.
Her thoughts flickered to the kiss they had shared after the Christmas market, still vivid in her mind. The memory now hummed between them, a silent reminder of the connection they had found.
Dancing with him now, she could feel the echo of that kiss in every step, every slight shift of his hand, and she didn’t want this moment to end. It felt too fragile, too precious, like trying to hold onto the last snowflake before it melted away.
Holly hadn’t realized how much she’d missed being held like this. Not only the physical touch, but the deep, soul-nourishing sense of being seen and cherished.
She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the music and his quiet strength.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Fine, actually. Having you here helped so much.”
He smiled with genuine happiness and she felt as if all the lights in the venue were twinkling inside her.
Aunt Nancy glided by on the arms of her husband. The older woman beamed at the two of them, giving Holly a meaningful wink as they moved past that made her wince.
How on earth would she be able to tell them all she and Ryan weren’t “together” anymore? They would be heartbroken. She might have to string this imaginary relationship out for years.
“I like your former in-laws very much.”
She gave a rueful smile. “So do I. If I hadn’t liked them all so much, I might not have married Troy in the first place.”
For some reason, that confession seemed to please him.
“I actually had a brief conversation with your ex too, when you took Lydia to the ladies’ room earlier.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. He basically asked me my intentions toward you.”
She closed her eyes, mortified. “Oh no. I’m so sorry! What did you say?”
His shoulder muscles rippled beneath her hand as he shrugged. “I told him I wanted to run away with you to Tahiti but I couldn’t manage to convince you yet, though I was working on it.”
The mental picture he created was undeniably enticing and she wondered what Ryan would say if she told him she wouldn’t need much persuading.
A few more dances and perhaps one or two more soul-stirring kisses like they had shared would probably do the trick.
“It’s clear Lydia loves her dad.”
She followed the direction of his gaze and found that Troy was now dancing with their daughter. Though he looked a little uncomfortable, at least he was trying.
“She really does.”
His words reminded her of the conversation she had before the wedding ceremony.
“Troy and Brittany want Lydia to spend Christmas Eve with them now. They want her to open her presents from Santa at Susan and Norm’s place.”
A frown furrowed his forehead. “I thought you told me you would have her Christmas Eve and they would pick her up for Christmas Day.”
“That was the plan. Brittany cornered me earlier today and asked if they could change the schedule. It’s Hudson’s first Christmas and they want his big sister to be part of it.”
“How do you feel about it?”
Like she wanted Ryan to pack her and Lydia away to Tahiti so she didn’t have to deal with all of this.
“All the emotions at once. I want to cry, yell and possibly throw every single flower arrangement I created for the tables against the wall.”
“Understandable.”
“Is it? For two years, I’ve been furious at Troy for walking out on his daughter. Now I’m angry that he wants to spend more time with her. Face it. I’m a hot mess, Ryan.”
“You’re not.”
She gave a short laugh, annoyed with herself for making this harder than it had to be.
“Okay,” she said, her tone almost a challenge. “What would you call it?”