Stacked

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

A NYA

Simple but elegant.

That’s how I would have described Morgan’s wedding day. She wore a beautifully beaded dress, complete with a long train covered in delicate, appliqued flowers. The weather was perfect, and early that morning, a small army descended on the Front Street Park gazebo, wrapping it in garlands and greenery.

I couldn’t have imagined a better day for someone I cared about so much.

Morgan was truly the most gorgeous bride I’d ever seen.

And as one does at weddings— particularly when you’re single— I’d spent time pondering my own happiness. I’d yet to experience the passion I saw on Morgan’s face when she talked about her work or the hopefulness in her voice that came with this wedding.

I wanted that.

Even though the man had ghosted me, I also thought of Robert. Despite my best resolve, I hadn’t been able to put him out of my mind. In fact, I’d been thinking about him a lot over the last few weeks—and particularly about the last time I saw him when he tried to talk to me at Morgan’s bachelorette party. I wasn’t nice to him that night, and the alcohol wasn’t a good excuse for the way I behaved.

And as if I’d conjured him, Robert was suddenly there, standing a few feet away from the dance floor at the golf club. Unable to resist, I walked toward him.

“Hi,” he said as the music swirled around us.

“I thought you were back in Miami,” I replied.

“I was, but it wasn’t the same without you.”

I scoffed. He stepped toward me, closing the final distance between us. “I hope it’s okay that I said that.”

I cocked my head. “Maybe.”

“Good—because I want to say more.”

I blew out a puff of air. “I’m trying to figure out why you came tonight.”

Robert leaned down, placing his lips right next to my ear. “Bottom line, I want you to give us another shot, and help me stay in New Burlington.”

Surprised, I moved to the side and locked my gaze with his. “I don’t know what to say.” I glanced around at the wedding guests, all of them oblivious to us as they moved in time to The Electric Slide. This wasn’t the time or the place for a conversation like this. I stepped backward. “No.”

His jaw slackened and his shoulders slumped. “What?”

“No,” I repeated, more firmly the second time. Blood rushed to my ears as the music rose, and I regarded the guests again. “I can’t believe you picked Morgan’s wedding as the place for you to say something like this to me.”

“I just—”

I stepped to the edge of the dance floor and braced my hand on a cocktail table wrapped in black fabric. “You’re being rude.”

“Rude?”

“First you ghost me, then you basically lie to me, and now you show up at my best friend’s wedding with some kind of agenda?” I was on a roll, the words tumbling out of my mouth. “This isn’t a romantic comedy, okay? We aren’t in a novel, and this isn’t a storybook ending.”

“Never said it was.”

“Do you even like books?” I demanded. “I mean, this whole time we’ve been, I don’t know, hanging out, you’ve never mentioned any books that you like. Never talked about any favorite authors.” I frowned, tension swelling in my chest. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think you really do.”

“Of course I love books.”

“Name one favorite author.” I gripped the table, knowing I was baiting him, my voice getting louder to make up for the change in music. “Right now.”

He blinked. “James Patterson.”

I started. “James Patterson?”

“Sure.” Robert shrugged, his shoulders squeezing his tuxedo jacket. “His books are good.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I was incredulous, and even a little annoyed. Of all the bullshit answers he could have given me, this was probably one of the worst. “He doesn’t even write most of his own stuff. His collaborators do.” I wrinkled my nose. “Or should I say, coauthors.”

“So what?”

I scoffed. “I knew it.”

He moved closer, and I shrank against the wobbly table. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“This was never going to work.” I gestured to the small space between us. “Too many red flags. And James Patterson is another one.”

“I don’t see how.” He placed his own hand on the cocktail table, his fingers close to mine, but not touching. And even without that contact, I was suddenly very aware of him. All of him.

Damn it, why does Robert Kilgore have to be so much... man?

“But now that you’ve said something,” he added. “You’ve never told me your favorite book author either.” He grinned. “And don’t say Nora Roberts.”

I recoiled. “Why not?”

“Because that’s a red flag for you,” he replied, still smiling a little. I wondered if he was enjoying this—what was it? An argument? A spat? A quarrel? “It’s... expected.”

“Really?”

“Come on. Tell me who’s your favorite.”

“Um...”

Now Robert threw his head back and laughed. “I knew it. Good old Nora.”

“She’s an amazing writer,” I protested, as if pointing out Nora’s literary merits would bolster my bona fides. “Sold millions of copies for a reason.”

“Just like James Patterson,” he said as the music moved to another song. “See my point?”

“Which is what? I should give you another chance because we both like standard commercial fiction?”

“No,” he said, his attention fixed on me, his eyes dark, his lips pressed together as he shifted forward. “You should give me a chance because—”

He didn’t finish his sentence because the cocktail table gave way. Crash! The legs collapsed, sliding onto the floor, taking the flower arrangement, a few discarded wine glasses, the tablecloth, and us along with it. We landed in a heap, just as the DJ turned off the music and the rest of the wedding guests turned to us in shock. In a flash, the room went totally silent.

“Oh my God,” Robert managed from his spot next to me. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” I stared at the ceiling for a breath, then rolled onto my side and winced. “I landed on my funny bone.”

“What just happened?” Morgan asked, rushing over from the wedding party table. A few other guests followed her lead, gathering around the mess on the floor.

“Nothing. The table broke,” I replied as I got to my knees. Robert offered his hand to help me get up, but I ignored it as I stood, brushing dirt and pieces of the flower arrangement off my dress. Robert followed. “I’m sorry.”

“ We’re sorry,” he said.

“I didn’t realize you were here yet, Robert,” Morgan replied.

I started. “Here yet ?”

“Yep,” Morgan replied. “I didn’t see him walk in.”

“You look beautiful.” Robert wiped his hands on his tuxedo pants. “And congratulations.”

“I asked the caterer to put a plate together for you in the kitchen.”

I recoiled, finally catching on. “Wait a minute. You knew he was coming?”

A familiar smile pulled at the corners of my best friend’s mouth. She was enjoying this. “Sure did. And after he told me you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, I figured he should make another attempt at a grand gesture. My wedding reception was the only place I could think of on short notice.”

I marveled at her for a moment. What a nice thing for her to do on such an important day. Except...

“Hold on,” one of the male guests I didn’t know said from the gathered crowd, interrupting my thoughts. Earlier, I heard from some of the bridesmaids that he knew Morgan during college and now lived in Indianapolis. “Aren’t you the two from the viral video? The one on TikTok?”

“Yep,” called Mrs. Peterson, who I hadn’t had a chance to speak with all evening. She swayed against her husband, and I wondered how much of the country club’s open bar had gone down her throat that evening. “That’s them. Robert Kilgore and Anya Post.”

“Pleased to meet you all,” Robert replied. “In case you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting me yet.”

I crossed the small section of the dance floor to Morgan. “This is your big day. I’m sorry to take away from that.”

“You didn’t take away from it,” she insisted. “If anything, this, um, added to it.”

“You’re a great friend.” I took one last step and pulled her into a hug, careful not to crush her beaded dress against the lavender silk of my bridesmaid one. “I don’t deserve you.”

She pulled back halfway and studied me. “If you’re not careful, Anya, you’re not going to deserve him either.”

“Robert?”

She nodded in his direction. He hadn’t moved from his spot near the overturned table. Instead, a couple of country club employees had arrived with a mop and broom, and Robert was now in the process of helping them clean up the mess. There was something graceful and effortless about the way he moved. Something...

“Irresistible,” I said, and then my jaw slackened as I realized I’d said the word aloud.

“Yep.”

“But—”

“But nothing. He’s a good guy,” Morgan replied. “Even if he did make a huge mistake when he blew off your budding relationship for whatever he thought he was going to find in Miami.”

“Which was total bullshit.”

“Of course it was.” She peeked around my shoulder, a smile pulling at her eyes. “Not many people would crash a wedding reception and make a fool of themselves just to try making it up to you.”

She was right. Not many guys would do that. I turned and looked back at him again. He certainly was handsome. Goofy. Not afraid to tell me what he thought. And... can he really be mine?

He’d crashed a wedding so he could be with me. In fact, it was the second time he’d done that at a major gathering. I doubted there would be a third. But should I take him back?

Yes, I think I want to. I have missed this man so much.

“Point taken,” I told my friend. “Plus, life is all about second chances, isn’t it?”

Now she broke into a wide grin. “Good, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted out. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a cake to cut.”

We hugged once more, and Morgan sauntered off for the next phase of her wedding reception, taking several guests with her as she raised her arms and signaled the DJ to start the music again. I watched my friend for a moment, thankful for my good fortune, and the positive things in my life that I realized I hadn’t spent enough time being grateful for. Despite the odds, The Green Frog wasn’t on its last leg anymore. We had enough traffic and interest to keep it open, and that meant Gwen wouldn’t live out her final few years with less than she deserved. Somehow, the life I’d made in New Burlington was working out.

And now, I had a chance at love too.

Taking a deep breath, I walked back to Robert’s side. The mess was almost cleaned up, and I arrived at his side as he shook the hand of the teenage server. He turned and his eyes were bright, surprise written all over his face. “You... you came back.”

I nodded. “I would have helped you clean up, but it looks like you all have things covered.”

“Not because of me.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. “The staff here are pros.”

The server muttered a thank you and pointed out that the cake was about to be served. After he left, Robert took me by the elbow and pulled me to a corner of the room. “I need to say something to you, something I should have said before.”

“What’s that?”

He squared his shoulders. “That I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I’m a jerk. And if you want to tell me that one more time—”

I held up my hand. “I don’t.”

He frowned. “You don’t?”

“I wasn’t kind when I met you. I felt threatened and wounded. And I didn’t want to admit it—I was attracted to you too. And then the parade happened.” I shrugged, sheepish. “I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”

“I couldn’t either.”

I smiled, my cheeks warm, my stomach twisted in anticipation. Here goes nothing. “So, I think we both deserve a second chance. And now that we’ve publicly embarrassed ourselves twice, we’ve probably earned it.”

Robert moved closer. “What are you saying?”

I shrugged. “That everyone has a dumbass attack from time to time.”

“I was certainly a dumbass.” He laughed. “More than once.”

“But I’m still saying yes.” Studying him, I bit my bottom lip. “Yes, to this, to the future, and to whatever life has in store for our businesses.” I laughed. “Never thought I’d say that.”

“Me neither,” he replied. “But now that means I get to do this.”

His lips crashed against mine and he enveloped me in a deep kiss. I tasted longing, and need, and hunger as he moved against me, cementing the moment as the music swelled around us and the DJ warned the crowd this was the last song before the cake would be served. I hardly heard any of that—it was a backdrop to the moment, the turn in our relationship as we finally let down our guard. At that moment, all that mattered was Robert.

“I love you, Anya,” he said against my mouth, the words tumbling out as our embrace tightened. “I think I’ve loved you since the night we ate pizza together.”

I stepped backward so I could take in every aspect of him—the lock of hair that fell across his brow, the warmth in his dark eyes, the way the fairy lights illuminated his jaw, the cut of the tuxedo jacket against his strong chest.

“I love you too, Robert,” I murmured. “And I can’t really blame you. Papa’s Pizza is really special.”

He laughed and pulled me toward him again, his kiss an answer and a promise. Once, I’d thought everything was stacked against me. I thought nothing would come my way, and that I’d have to hide in New Burlington forever, trusting nobody.

But it turned out, I was wrong.