Once upon a time, Cate Penland had predicted she would have it all. Now, with this huge, perfect wedding at an Atlanta cathedral in front of twelve hundred guests, her dreams were coming true. A great marriage, and soon to be an interesting career.
Serious words interrupted her private jubilation.
“Jason, wilt thou have Cate to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage…”
She zoned out momentarily. A no-expense-spared, traditional event wasn’t how she used to imagine her special day. At thirteen or fourteen, she had dreamed of a low-key, romantic wedding.
But to be fair, she had fully participated in planning this enormous, glitzy social affair.
She was pinning her hopes on family and home.
She and Jason were good together. Their life would be as perfect as Cate could make it.
Once they were settled in a place of their own, the plan to open a trendy art gallery and gift shop would meld their individual talents and interests—his photography and Cate’s artistic bent.
Cate needed to know that life wouldn’t knock her down again, not like it had when she was twelve. Today, she was insulating herself against pain.
She was going to be gloriously happy.
The old priest’s sonorous words wafted over her head and disappeared into the shadows of the soaring vaulted ceiling. A benediction of light filtered through ornate stained glass windows, painting the wedding party in a soft rainbow palette.
The first Saturday in June was the ideal and most highly sought-after wedding date at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Cathedral on West Paces Ferry Road in the ritzy Buckhead neighborhood of Atlanta. Half a dozen brides had wanted the venue. Cate’s father had written a six-figure check to the building fund, and the deed was done.
The female attendants included her sister and four of Cate’s dearest friends. Two of the four, shy Leah and reserved Gabby, had known Cate since they were childhood classmates at Blossom Branch Elementary School. Their lives had zigged and zagged because of financial circumstances and other realities, but they had reconnected as freshmen at the University of Georgia, and their friendship had deepened exponentially. The other two bridesmaids, Lara and Ivy, were also college relationships, shorter in nature, but no less important. All four of the women had been fellow sorority sisters with Cate. Zeta Zeta Pi.
Cate had dragged Leah and Gabby into Greek life knowing they needed her support. Leah’s extreme shyness and Gabby’s money woes had made entering college challenging. Cate had tried to smooth the rough edges for her friends.
Despite her mother’s vehement objections to the nontraditional, Cate had elected to outfit her bridesmaids all in white, with only narrow black sashes for accent. Cate loved the crisp, modern look. In this golden moment, she knew she had made the right decision.
Behind her, a gratifying crowd sat shoulder to shoulder in the honey-colored wooden pews polished by decades of worshippers. The air-conditioning in the lovely, decades-old stone building labored to keep up. Cate’s forehead and hands were damp. She gripped her bouquet of white roses and eucalyptus and tried to breathe. The wedding party carried calla lilies and freesias. The combined scent of the flowers in the close quarters at the altar smelled a little too funeral home for Cate’s comfort.
Her old hometown of Blossom Branch would have been so much more suited to Cate’s love of simplicity than this big Atlanta event. But her parents had insisted they had too many friends and business associates to have their elder daughter tie the knot in a tiny, semi-rural community, no matter how charming.
Why was she so nervous? Today was the culmination of her life plan. If she had made a few concessions, it was only natural. That’s what grown-ups did. Unlike her parents, who fought frequently, Cate had chosen to marry her very best friend. Jason would give her security. Everything else would flow from there.
Her stomach curled as the mixed floral scents intensified. She shifted from one foot to the other, desperately glad she had opted to wear ballet slippers instead of heels. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus.
Then she realized something was awry. The priest had repeated a line from the script.
“Jason, wilt thou have Cate to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the covenant of marriage…” The familiar words continued.
Oh, God. Had she spaced out so long she’d missed her cue? Had they backed up to give her another chance?
Confused, she stared at the priest. His wrinkled face reflected mild alarm and consternation. The silence grew.
The priest had asked a question, and the groom was hesitating.
Cate looked up at Jason. Dear, handsome Jason. They had known each other since kindergarten. He was the gentlest, most dependable, compassionate man she had ever known.
His brilliant blue eyes filled with tears. She had never seen him cry. Not once. Not ever.
“I’m sorry, Cate,” he said. He shot the priest an apologetic glance. “Give us a minute.”
Jason took her hand and tugged until she had no choice but to follow him. It was a good thing she had decided a train was too fussy for her personal style. Even so, the skirt was voluminous. Somehow, they dodged the giant tiers of candles and the cascading ferns and found a tiny pocket of floor space.
It was hardly private.
In the distance, a murmur swept over the gathered throng like the portent of a storm.
Jason cupped her face in his hands. His body was rigid, his expression distraught.
A hole opened up in her chest.
He kissed her softly. In apology. Not passion. “I’m so sorry, Cate. This is wrong. I’ve known it for a while, but I couldn’t seem to stop the momentum. You know it, too, I think. We both let ourselves get caught up in the excitement and the way our families were so delighted for us, but we’ve made a mistake.”
The hole grew bigger, sucking all the oxygen out of her body. Little yellow spots danced in front of her eyes. “Don’t do this to me,” she pleaded. “I’m begging you, Jason. Don’t do this. You can’t. I’ll never forgive you.”
He released her, his face dead white.
They were speaking in whispers, but any one of the wedding party could easily pick up the essence of the drama. In the enormous sanctuary, no one moved. No one coughed. No one made a sound. The candles and the flowers were a paltry hiding place.
He wiped his damp face with the back of his hand and cursed in soft agony. “We love each other, Cate, but we’re not in love.”
Those ten words were a knife to the heart. Severing her last hope. This day was supposed to be a beginning. She had given up so much—Blossom Branch, her dream wedding. She had convinced herself that marriage was what she desperately needed and wanted. The only thing she wanted. And Jason, of course.
If she didn’t have this, who was she? What was left?
Everything inside her shut down. Her body went into survival mode. For eighteen months she had done little more than to think and plan and orchestrate this day. It was the social event of the season. In a century when newspapers all over the country were disappearing, not one but two society-page journalists sat in the audience.
Garden & Gun magazine, arguably the arbiter of all things hip and classy in the modern South, had sent several reporters and photographers to document the day for a future spread on quintessential Georgia weddings.
Terror filled her veins. She couldn’t cope with this. It was too terrible to contemplate.
Panic like the rushing force of a tsunami galvanized her. Pushing past her startled groom-to-be, she fled.
It wasn’t easy. Her dress hampered her movements. Adrenaline fueled her desperation.
She had been a member of this church since she was twelve years old. Her parents had each served terms on the vestry. Cate had been an acolyte and had sung in the choir. She knew every narrow hallway and musty closet and crooked passage.
Which meant that in no time at all, she found herself outside.
The cobblestone driveway was oddly silent. Despite the tightly packed cars, everyone was inside. Cate was completely alone.
The sun beat down on her head. The silver comb of her pearl-studded tiara dug into her scalp.
She had no purse, no money, and no means of transportation. Hysteria threatened, but she shoved it away. No one was bleeding. This wasn’t a hurricane or an earthquake or any other natural disaster. She wasn’t going to die.
Was she?
A large, warm hand came down on her shoulder. “Steady, Catie-girl. It’s going to be okay.”
Without sunglasses, the afternoon light was punishing. She shaded her eyes with her free hand and blinked up at the large, tuxedo-clad man. “Harry?”
Everything inside her shriveled into a tiny ball of misery and embarrassment. On the long list of people she would rather not have witnessed the absolute debacle that was her wedding day, Prescott Harrington, III, better known in their social circle as Harry, was at the top.
“None other,” he said mildly. “You seem surprised. I did RSVP.”
“But without a plus one.”
“No. Just me.” He slid an arm around her waist. “Are you sentimentally attached to those flowers, honey?”
She glanced down dumbly at her beautiful bouquet. “No.”
He was forced to peel her chilled fingers loose one at a time because she couldn’t seem to uncurl her hand on her own. When the task was accomplished, he tossed the poor undeserving roses on the hood of an ice-blue Lamborghini and steered Cate toward his own car, a sleek black roadster that was quietly sophisticated rather than flashy, much like Harry himself.
Opening the passenger door without fanfare, he tucked her in and fastened her seat belt, careful not to damage the acres of tulle and satin. Then he slammed the door, ran around to the driver’s side and hopped behind the wheel.
The car smelled amazing. Because it had been sitting in the hot sun, the butter-soft leather was warm and scented with the owner’s subtle aftershave.
Cate leaned back and rested her head. She was conscious the vehicle was moving, but little else impinged on her trance of utter disbelief and pain.
Harry drove as he did most things, with quiet confidence. At one point, he reached into the back seat and handed her a bottle of water. “You need to drink this. It was hot as hell in that church.”
She uncapped the bottled and downed half the water, wondering if her crushing headache was the product of dehydration or shattered dreams.
They zipped along Peachtree Street amidst lushly flowering landscapes and eye-catching glass skyscrapers. Buckhead on a lazy summer afternoon was Atlanta at her finest. This upscale neighborhood had been Cate’s stomping grounds since her father relocated the family from Blossom Branch to Atlanta more than a decade ago.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked dully, not really caring, but feeling the need to fill the awkward silence.
He shot her a brief sideways glance. “My place.”
Cate nodded. Made sense. The destination wasn’t far, and it had the added bonus of building security, which meant no one could get to her.
Harry, a decade her senior, had been a wunderkind architect who graduated from business school a few years after the financial crisis of `08. Thanks to his genius and a driving urge to succeed, he had waded into the midst of the recovery. He’d begun by building houses. Now his preference was commercial real estate. Already, two iconic structures bearing his stamp graced the Atlanta skyline.
Though his architectural firm had fancy offices downtown, Harry preferred working in the privacy of his home study offsite. He was a distant part of her social circle in Atlanta because he was from Blossom Branch, also. There was something about that small, wonderful town that drew its expats together—like alumni who bonded over shared memories.
Because Harry was older, though, if he and Jason hadn’t been cousins, she probably would barely know him. Cate had been to one dinner party with Jason at Harry’s place, but that was three years ago, and she hadn’t been back since.
They drove into the underground parking garage and slid into a numbered spot. Harry came around and helped her out. A nearby couple goggled at them, but Harry shielded Cate with his large frame. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you upstairs.”
The elevator ride was swift and silent. Harry’s penthouse apartment occupied half of the top floor. The luxurious home boasted floor-to-ceiling windows in the public spaces and breathtaking views of the Atlanta skyline. Far in the distance, the unmistakable, monolithic, dome-shaped Stone Mountain marked the other horizon.
Cate sank into a chair, her legs literally unable to support her any longer.
Harry crouched at her side and wrapped a small, fuzzy blanket around her shoulders.
She clutched it tightly. Somewhere on the ride over, she had started shaking and couldn’t seem to stop. “Why are you being nice to me?” she asked. His usual MO was to tease her unmercifully and snipe at her clothes and her friends and her social life. In his presence, she always felt like a stupid, gawky kid.
Harry’s lopsided smile held so much sympathy her throat ached. He smoothed a stray hair from her forehead. “You’ve had a rough day, Cate. I’ve decided to cut you a break.” He put the back of his hand to her cheek and frowned. “You’re in shock, I think. I’m going to call my doctor and see what to do.”
“Okay…”
His words didn’t really make any sense. Her whole body ached with exhaustion. Pulling the warm cover all the way around herself, she drew her knees to her chest and rested her head against the arm of the chair.
It might have been minutes or hours later when Harry returned. “Open your mouth,” he said. “This is a mild sedative. The doc said it will help. Wash it down with this milk.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like milk.”
“Doesn’t matter. Open up.”
Protesting was too much work. She swallowed the pill along with the cold liquid and made a face. “You’re a bully.”
He chuckled. Scooping her up in his arms, he took the handful of steps to the sofa and laid her down as if she were unable to walk on her own. Without asking permission, he carefully removed her veil and headpiece and all the hairpins that were holding it in place. “I think you should sleep for a little while. We’ll talk when you wake up.”
That sounded ominous. “You won’t leave me?” She clutched the edge of the coverlet, hating the feelings of vulnerability and utter despair that stripped her raw and made her fearful.
His expression softened to something resembling gentleness, though gentle was the last word anyone would use to describe Harry. If Jason was her dear Ashley Wilkes, then Prescott Harrington, III, was definitely the dangerous rogue Rhett Butler. One never knew what he was thinking…
Grabbing a second blanket from a stash under the coffee table, he smoothed it over her lower half until not a single swathe of tulle or bare ankle was showing. Then he stood and looked down at her with his arms folded over his chest. “Sleep, Cate.”
His expression was inscrutable. She was nothing more to him than an experiment, a slide under a microscope. Suddenly, she blinked. “Why were there sedatives in your medicine cabinet?”
He shrugged. “I had to have a complicated dental procedure several months ago. They told me to take the drug the night before and the morning of so I would be calm.”
“And did you do it? Was this pill you gave me a leftover?”
His grin was an unexpected flash of white. “Nah. I didn’t see the point.”
Of course he didn’t. The man was impervious to typical human weaknesses. “Sometimes I hate you, you know.”
He blinked. “Oh, really?”
“All the rest of us mortals struggle day to day, and yet whatever you touch turns to gold. Everything you’ve ever wanted in life has dropped into your lap.”
Something flashed in his eyes. Something dark and dangerous and frightening. His jaw tightened. “I’m going to let that one slide. Go to sleep, Cate. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
Chapter Two
It was six in the evening when she woke up. She knew the time because Harry’s fancy mantel clock chimed the hour. Oh, God. The memories came rushing back. It hadn’t been a dream…or a terrible nightmare…
Jason had walked out on their wedding.
Instead of being a joyous newlywed, Cate was that most pitiful of stock characters, the jilted bride. She pulled her hand from beneath the covers and stared at her engagement ring. She and Jason had selected it together. He had studied the four Cs of diamonds, and Cate had scoured Pinterest for settings she liked.
In the end, they had gone with a modest center stone and two smaller sapphires on the sides, all set in platinum. Yesterday she had adored her ring. Now she hated it.
Her fingers were slightly swollen from the summer heat and humidity. It took several minutes, but she wrenched and pulled until she finally got the ring off. Reaching over toward the coffee table, she dropped what had been her prized piece of jewelry into a shallow pewter dish. Then she pressed her forehead against the back of the sofa and sobbed.
When someone turned on a lamp, she froze, not wanting Harry to see her tearstained face. But fate was not on her side.
He sat down on the coffee table and sighed. “Jason wants to come up and make sure you’re all right,” he said quietly.
She sat up in shock, no longer caring that her cheeks were splotchy, and her makeup was a mess. “How did he know I was here?”
Harry cocked his head, frowning. “I sent him and your parents a text as soon as we got home. I didn’t want them to worry.”
“Oh.” In her utter desolation, she had been unable to think about anything but fleeing the church. What did it say about her that she hadn’t considered the ramifications of disappearing? She had always been a good girl. Never a misstep. Never rocking the boat. Always keeping up appearances. But she was done with that. “I don’t want to see him.” Panic fluttered in her chest.
“I figured you would say that. I told him you were napping and that I was going to feed you. I said he could try again in a couple of hours. You might as well get it over with, Catie-girl. The confrontation will only get worse the longer you put it off.”
She bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “What makes you such an authority on interpersonal relationships?”
His smile was wry. “Can I tempt you with carryout? The restaurant downstairs has Angus burgers and shoestring fries that would make a grandma weep, they’re so good. Or I could order you a salad if you don’t feel like tackling a big meal yet.”
Cate’s stomach growled on cue. “I’ve been eating kale smoothies, yogurt and lettuce salads for three months, so I could fit into my dress. A burger sounds amazing.” Suddenly, she was ravenous. A person could only sustain a nervous breakdown for so long before needing caloric sustenance.
Harry pulled out his cell phone and placed the order. Then he disappeared for five minutes and returned carrying a long-sleeved button-up shirt in pale blue. “I’m half a foot taller than you are,” he said. “This should come down to your knees. I don’t have any bottoms or shoes that will come close to fitting you, but I adjusted the AC, so you won’t get too cold.”
She took the shirt. “Thank you.”
“Bathroom is down the hall in the guest room. First door on the left.”
“Um…” The hole in her chest opened up again. Maybe this was going to be a permanent fixture of her new persona.
Harry frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Her face flamed. “I need help getting out of the dress.”
For a split second, he actually seemed disconcerted. But the moment passed, and she was certain she was wrong.
He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. “Lucky for you I have plenty of experience in that area.”
“Hilarious,” she said, glaring at him. “I’m not in the mood to hear about all your sexual conquests. Jason says Apple had to get you a special iPhone with extra gigs just to hold all the contacts in your little black book.”
“Now who’s the smart-ass? Turn around, Cate. Let’s get this over with.”
It was a very bad moment to regret her choice of wedding dress. The strapless, classic gown fastened in back with no less than sixty-two cloth-covered buttons. Cate held her breath for the first dozen.
She had imagined Jason helping her out of this dress in their fancy room at the Ritz-Carlton where they were planning to stay overnight before leaving on their honeymoon. Instead, big, ornery Harry Harrington attacked the back of her gown as if every little button was an affront to his male pride.
He made it to just below her waist before giving up and ripping the two sides apart, sending buttons flying everywhere.
“Hey,” Cate said indignantly, grabbing the bodice close to her breasts to protect her modesty. “I could have sold this on eBay if you hadn’t destroyed it.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll pay you for the dress if it’s that important. Besides, I doubt anyone wants a wedding gown with bad mojo.”
She gaped at him. The brutally honest comment surprised her after he had been so caring earlier. Maybe pretending to be a decent human being had taxed his acting abilities.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. It was all she could do not to cry again. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
In the bathroom she stared into the mirror and hit rock bottom. She looked like hell. Her eyes were puffy and red. Even worse was the raccoon-ish mask forged of smudged mascara and salty tears. With her hair half up and half down, she looked like someone who had been on an all-night bender.
Suddenly, she had a desperate urge to be clean. Fortunately, Harry’s guest bathroom was fully stocked. She wrapped a big fluffy towel around her hair to keep it dry and hopped in the shower. The hot water felt like heaven. She washed her face and then everything else.
Since she had been wearing nothing but a thong under her dress, she washed the undies as well. When she got out, she felt a hundred times better. At least until she put on Harry’s shirt and glanced in the mirror again. She was pretty sure anyone who looked carefully could see her nipples.
Using the hairdryer, she dried her undies and put them back on. They were next to nothing, but she needed all the armor she could muster. After that, the only thing left was to take down the rest of her hair and shake it loose as best she could without a brush or a comb.
The hair salon had used half a can of spray on her up-do this morning. It would take a ton of hair products to get herself back to normal.
Thinking about tomorrow brought back the hole in her chest. She had no clue what the next day would bring, no idea what she would do. Instead, she concentrated on getting through the next half hour. And then the next half hour after that. When she heard the doorbell ring, she found the courage to leave the bathroom.
She arrived in time to see the young delivery boy smiling broadly as Harry tipped him. “Thank you, sir.”
Harry closed the door and held up the bag. “Do you want to eat in here or in the kitchen?”
“Here is fine.”
They sat down on opposite sides of the coffee table. With her knees pressed together and the shirt pulled down over them, she still felt the need to drape the small blanket across her lap.
Harry didn’t waste time with small talk. Instead, he opened the bag and handed her a share of the bounty. He’d not been lying about the hamburgers and fries. Cate gobbled down half of hers, barely pausing to breathe.
While she had been in the shower, Harry had opened a bottle of pinot. She drank recklessly, hoping to blunt the feeling of desperation that made her ill. It was all well and good to pretend she could hide out in Prescott Harrington’s glamorous apartment indefinitely, but her reprieve would likely be measured in hours.
“Thank you for the food,” she said.
He wiped his mouth on a napkin and nodded. “At least it put some color in your cheeks.” He gathered the remnants of their meal, stuffed it all in the large white paper sack and crushed it between his two big hands. “Jason is waiting outside the door.”
Cate shot to her feet. “No. I don’t want to see him.” Her newly manicured fingernails dug into her palms. “I won’t.”
“You owe him that much, Cate. The man is a mess. Let him speak his piece.”
Her jaw dropped. “I owe him? Are you insane? He betrayed me.”
Harry shot her a steely-eyed stare. “We both know that Jason is one of the finest men who ever walked this earth. He had a good reason. I don’t know what it is, but the two of you both live in Buckhead. You move in the same circles. This has to be settled. One way or another.”
“It must be nice to be God.”
“Settle down. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. Do it fast and let the healing begin.”
She loathed him in that moment. Actually, she loathed the entire male sex. Every damn one of them thought they had all the answers. “Fine. Bring him in. Why not end this wretched day with more pain and sadness? I won’t break.”
It was a brave speech. Unfortunately, the underpinnings were like cotton candy in the rain. As soon as Jason walked into the room, her chin wobbled, and a painful lump filled her throat.
Just inside the door, he set down her trio of matching suitcases and her purse. The lightweight trendy luggage had been a gift from her parents at her first wedding shower.
Harry was right. Jason looked dreadful. His eyes were sunken, his posture defeated. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hello, Cate.”
“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Harry picked up the food sack and started to walk away.
Cate panicked. “No. I want you in the room. I don’t want to be alone with him.”
If it were possible, the misery in Jason’s expression deepened.
Cate sat down again and pulled the lap blankets around her, using them as shields. With the two men on either side of the room, she felt small and anxious and utterly defeated.
Harry waved a hand. “Have a seat, Jason.”
The younger man shook his head. “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.” He shifted his focus to Cate. “I am so desperately sorry, Cate. I was an idiot and a coward to wait so late to call it off. You can’t possibly hate me more right now than I hate myself.”
Her limbs began to tremble again. Maybe some tiny part of her hoped he had come begging for a reconciliation. He was apologizing. But only for his timing. Not for anything else.
“Did I do something wrong?” The question tumbled forth, uncensored. It had festered in her brain since the moment her groom-to-be had backed out of their wedding.
“Oh, God. No. Of course not.” At last, Jason moved. He took the armchair nearest the sofa and sat. With his fists clenched on his thighs, he grimaced. “We screwed up, Cate. And it goes back a very long time, I think.”
She swallowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Be honest, Cate. You chose me in the beginning because I was safe. You knew the two of us would never argue like your parents do. I would never have an affair. I would be faithful.”
It hurt to hear him say those things aloud. She had been twelve when her father arbitrarily decided to move the family to Atlanta. He’d been offered a huge promotion, and he took it, family be damned. Cate’s mother was furious. Cate and her sister had been devastated. They loved Blossom Branch. It was home. Atlanta was fine for shopping trips and concerts, but it hadn’t felt like home, not then. Cate had been forced to adjust. To suppress her needs and wants.
Her whole world had changed overnight.
Years later, she had chosen Jason because she was positive he would never inflict such turmoil on her life.
“I suppose there might be an element of truth to that,” she said. “But I love you, Jason.”
For the first time, a small smile lit his handsome face. “I know you do. And I love you, too. We’ve been part of each other’s lives forever.”
“But…”
He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Do you remember when you proposed to me?”
Every ounce of her self-esteem winnowed away. Harry, one arm propped on the mantel, had made a sound. A quickly muffled sound, but a sound nevertheless. This was a heck of a time to rethink her insistence on having him in the room.
She nodded glumly. “I remember.” Now that she thought back on it, Jason had hesitated that day, too. Just as he had when the priest asked a question the skittish groom couldn’t answer. “So why did you say yes?”
“If you’ll recall, we were in bed at the time. You were so cute and excited, and I thought, what the hell. Surely you and I could make it work. We have everything in common. I wanted to get married someday. My own parents are miserably wed. If I had any shot at long-term happiness, I figured it would be with you.”
“But something changed.”
He reached for her hand. She jerked it back. She couldn’t bear to have him touch her, not with Harry watching their every move.
Jason winced. “Actually, nothing changed, not really. We spent a year and a half playing the part of the happily engaged couple in front of our friends. We made plans, we basked in the glow of our families’ approval. It became this giant, lumbering freight train that couldn’t be stopped. Not even when I realized we were both doing this for the wrong reasons.”
“And those were?”
“Convenience. Fear of the unknown. Friendship.”
“I see.” If she could have argued, she would have, but the longer he talked, the more she realized what an idiot she had been. “So that’s it?” She hurt so badly, she wanted to throw up.
“Here’s the thing, Cate. When you finished your master’s degree and your parents paid for you to study in Paris and Rome for a year, I was pumped to spend part of that time with you. We had a blast. Then you came home, we got engaged and suddenly you threw yourself into planning a wedding. You didn’t even try to get a job.”
She blinked backed tears of humiliation. “Daddy told me not to rush. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing…not a thing. But neither of us has spent much time deciding what we want out of life. It’s all been fun and games and not much of the nuts and bolts of being an adult. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I started to get scared, scared that we both still have a lot of growing up to do. The one thing I know for sure is that I never want to lose you from my life, but I can’t be your husband.”
“I see.” She was a parrot. A clueless, pitiful parrot unable to speak more than the same two syllables.
“If you’re honest, and once you’ve had a few days to recover, I truly believe you’ll agree with everything I’ve said. I know this is damn hard. You were in an impossible situation. Your parents had spent a crap load of money on the social event of the season. It was unreasonable to expect you to pull the plug. I had to be the one to do it, but I didn’t have the nerve. So I waited too damn long, and I hurt the woman I love dearly, and for that, I am deeply sorry. I’m going to repay your parents every cent of the money as soon as I can.”
For the first time, Harry spoke up. “I’ll take care of the money. I have an embarrassing abundance of it and no one to spend it on but me. Let me do this, Jason.”
The men were cousins. And more than that, friends. Cate shook her head vehemently. “That’s not necessary.”
Harry frowned. “This is between Jason and me.”
Cate sputtered and felt her face heat with frustration.
Jason shot him a glare. “Why do you go out of your way to rile her up?”
“Because she rises to the bait so beautifully.”
“Enough.” Cate stood on wobbly legs and wrapped her arms around her waist. Jason was blond and blue-eyed and so very dear. Harry was broad through the shoulders and dark-headed, a dangerous, overtly masculine beast with barely softened edges. “Thank you for coming, Jason,” she said quietly. “I’d like you to do one thing for me.”
“Anything,” he vowed. He stood as well, his body rigid.
Did he expect her to punish him somehow?
She swallowed her pride and her hurt feelings and did the only thing that made sense. “Get on that plane in the morning, Jason. Take a friend or fly alone. But go to Machu Picchu. Four weeks in Peru was your bucket list item. The wedding was mine. I don’t want you to miss it. And to be honest, I’d rather not have to worry about running into you for the next month. I need a breather from us. Some time to know it’s over and to start again.”
He was so pale she thought he might collapse. The skin on his face was drawn tight. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“I’m sorry, Cate.”
She swallowed the urge to scream and throw a tantrum. Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Me, too. Go, Jason. Go find the life you deserve.”
He nodded curtly, strode across the room, walked out of the apartment and out of her life.
When the door slammed behind him, she choked out a sob and collapsed on the sofa, no longer caring that Harry watched. He had witnessed the most horrific moments of her life, and all in one day. He must think her an utter fool.
There was nothing she could do to stem the flow of tears. They came and they came and they came. Hot, wrenching and raw.
Harry picked her up and sat her in his lap, tucking her head against his hard shoulder and stroking her hair. “This is the worst, Cate. You survived. I’m proud of you.”
The unexpected words from her nemesis made her weep all the harder. But she made no move to escape his tight hold. His strong arms were the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million broken pieces. Her world had fallen apart around her. Harry, for better or for worse, and at least for the moment, was helping her survive.
She had no idea how long she sat in his embrace. The apartment was quiet. Part of her stood at a distance, wincing in embarrassment for the pitiful woman wallowing in her own misery.
Eventually, the tears dried up—though not before soaking the expensive fabric of Harry’s dress shirt. He had worn a bespoke suit to the wedding. After returning to the apartment, she’d watched him shed his jacket and kick off his shoes, but other than that, he was still dressed.
Now that she was numb and no longer crying, she realized her cheek was pressed right over his heart, unconsciously recording the steady ka-thud of each beat. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. The hard wall of his chest smelled faintly of what she assumed was his shower gel.
For the first time, his comfort made her uncomfortable.
Odd, but true.
She forced herself to get up. “I’m fine,” she lied. “But I think I’d like to go to my room now.” Even if it was early.
Harry stood as well, his narrow-eyed gaze cataloging her mental and physical state. “I’m sorry, Cate.” In his words, she heard genuine sympathy and concern.
“It is what it is,” she said, the words dull.
“I’ll carry your bags,” he said, putting his offer into practice. “Is there anything else you need?”
She followed him down the hall. A do-over? A time machine? Some kind of patch for the scary hole in my chest?
When he came back out into the hall after arranging her luggage at the foot of her bed, she managed a smile. “Not a thing. I appreciate all you’ve done for me today.”
Harry didn’t smile in return. If anything, a frown shadowed his gaze. “My place is huge,” he said. “You can stay as long as you like. I won’t even notice you’re here.”
That statement should have reassured her. After all, the situation was anything but normal. Still, his words made her feel even more alone.
Her throat was tight, but she managed a reply. “Thank you,” she said. She eased past him, entered her borrowed bedroom and closed the door.