"The wedding ring is the outward and visible sign of an
inward and spiritual bond that unites two loyal hearts in
endless love."
Tamara Hodges smiled through tears as she relieved her
sister Callie of the enormous wedding bouquet she had
insisted on carrying down the aisle.
"It is a seal of the vows Bryant and Callie have made to one
another."
She wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief as she witnessed
the exchange of rings between her baby sister and new
brother-in-law, wishing them love and happiness for the rest
of their lives.
Tamara's thoughts traveled to the one person she kept hidden
in her heart—the one man she could never forget. The one
person with whom she dreamed of sharing that type of love.
The pastor's words drew her attention back to the ceremony.
"You may now kiss your bride."
Tamara stole a quick peek at her mother, who was seated in
the front row, fighting back tears.
Three hundred guests erupted in applause as Mr. and Mrs.
Bryant Charles Madison were introduced. The music began,
prompting the newlyweds to lead the recessional from the
sanctuary.
As Bryant's best man escorted her down the aisle, Tamara
could feel her ex-stepfather's heated glare as she strolled
past him, her head held up high. She refused to let him put
a damper on her blissful mood.
Outside the sanctuary, Tamara and Callie embraced.
"Congratulations," she whispered as she gazed into a pair of
hazel-green eyes that mirrored her own. "I'm so happy for
you, Callie."
Tamara embraced Bryant next. "I guess we're stuck with you now."
"Yeah," he replied, giving his new wife a sidelong glance.
"Because I'm not going anywhere. I love this girl."
"Good," Tamara said with a smile. "That's what I want to hear."
Wedding guests filed out of the church, each one pausing to
congratulate the bride and groom.
Tamara's mother walked up and said, "The ceremony was
beautiful, wasn't it?"
She nodded. "Yeah, it was."
When Lucas, her ex-stepfather entered into the church foyer,
Tamara uttered, "We should go back into the sanctuary. It's
time for pictures."
Her mother agreed.
Just being in that man's presence stirred up shadows and
fears that made her uncomfortable. Tamara did not want to
mar Callie's wedding day, so she decided to stay as far away
from Lucas as possible.
After the traditional wedding-party photos, a limo whisked
them to the Four Seasons Hotel Atlanta for the reception.
Callie and Bryant were in a separate stretch limo, which
followed close behind.
Her mother suggested that the photographer shoot some
pictures on the grand staircase at the hotel, saying that
the brass railing would serve as the perfect backdrop. She
had even arranged to have the large floral centerpiece at
the foot of the staircase coordinate with the wedding colors
and flowers. Whatever Jillian Hodges-Devane wanted she got.
Tamara made small talk with the other members of the bridal
party during the ride over to the midtown hotel.
The ballroom where the reception was held consisted of a
wall of mirrors on one end highlighted by large crystal
chandeliers and large picture windows at the other. Tamara
had been in the same room a week ago, covering an event for
Luster magazine.
She enjoyed writing for the magazine but had dreams of
starting her own publication one day.
The wedding party waited in line outside as they waited to
be announced. The best man again escorted Tamara into the
ballroom. After the wedding party, Mr. and Mrs. Bryant
Charles Madison made their grand entrance.
While waiters navigated about the room carrying trays of
hors d' oeuvres, Tamara mingled, pausing to speak to
relatives and friends of her family. She felt the sensation
that someone was watching her and turned; meeting her
ex-stepfather's dark and insolent gaze, she straightened
herself with dignity.
He smirked, gave a slight nod and then turned his attention
back to his daughter, Callie.
Tamara's eyes bounced around the room, looking for her mother.
"How are you holding up, Mama?" she asked when she found her
seated at one of the family tables. Tamara sat down in the
empty chair beside her.
"I'm exhausted," Jillian responded. "Your sister looks
lovely, doesn't she?"
Tamara agreed. "And very happy. I guess all the whining,
fussing and craziness she put us through over the past year
has been worth it. I'm so glad that girl is married."
"Seeing Callie and Bryant like this—it was definitely worth
it," her mother responded. "One day we'll be doing this for
you. Hopefully, it will happen while I'm still young enough
to enjoy the wedding."
Tamara drew an invisible pattern on the tablecloth. "Don't
hold your breath, Mama. I'd actually have to have a man in
my life in order to get married."
"So there's no one special? You haven't met anyone?"
"Mama, have you considered that I might be one of those
women who are destined to remain single?"
"Bite your tongue," Jillian stated. "Don't even put that
thought in your head. A beautiful woman like you won't have
a problem finding a husband. You only have to open your
heart and allow him entry."
Tamara caught her mother looking at her ex-stepfather. "Mama…"
"Can you believe he had the nerve to bring that woman here?
She is what—barely legal? Lucas Devane always had an eye for
young girls." Rancor sharpened Jillian's voice.
"To be honest with you, I don't really care enough about him
to even wonder," Tamara retorted.
Her mother leaned over and embraced her. "I love you, Tammy.
I hope you know that."
"Mama, I know you do. I love you, too," Tamara assured her.
"We all went through a bad time, but thank God that it's
over now. Oh, could you please just call me Tamara?" Her
eyes traveled back over to the table where Lucas sat with
his girlfriend. "I'm not Tammy anymore, so please don't call
me that."
Lucas's eyes met hers, and his lips turned into a cynical
smile. Tamara's eyes never wavered as she stared him down
until he had the good sense to drop his gaze.
"I hate him," her mother uttered. A sudden thin chill hung
on the edge of her words.
"I don't have any feelings toward him at all," Tamara
stated. "Lucas could drop dead right here in the middle of
the room and it wouldn't phase me at all." She turned her
attention back to Callie and Bryant, her thoughts roaming
once more to the one and only love of her life.
Micah Ross.
He was definitely the one who got away, Tamara decided. She
had allowed her fears and insecurities of her youth to keep
her from opening up completely and trusting, which caused
Tamara to push him away. Micah had always been nothing less
than a good friend to her and her math tutor, but because of
her inability to trust combined with a group of immature
boys who had nothing better to do other than playing pranks,
she treated him cruelly the night of their graduation from
Hollington College.
She pushed away from the table and helped herself to the
caramelized Vidalia onion tart with goat cheese, lobster and
chive risotto fritters and miniature crab cake hors d'oeuvres.
Jillian rose to her feet and followed her daughter. "I was
thinking… Isn't Bryant's best man single? I heard that he's
the vice president of Atlanta Bank and Trust."
"Not interested, Mama," Tamara said in a low voice. "Now
just drop it."
She released a short sigh of relief when her mother became
distracted by relatives. This would give Tamara a break from
her constant matchmaking.
Twenty minutes later, everyone was seated. They dined on a
duo entrée of tenderloin of beef and salmon, roasted
potatoes, asparagus and béarnaise sauce while the band,
which was personally selected by Jillian, played softly in
the background.
"Mama was right about the menu," Callie whispered to her.
"This was the perfect choice."
Tamara agreed. She sliced off a piece of the tender salmon
and stuck it into her mouth, remembering the argument
between her mother and sister over the food for the
reception. They ended up not talking for two days.
Callie won the fight between them over the wedding cake. Her
mother, a true Southern lady, wanted the butter pecan cake
with a fresh peach filling while her sister insisted on the
Tahitian vanilla butter cake, Tahi-tian vanilla custard and
fresh berries.
Tamara left the reception shortly after her sister's
departure and headed home. After she changed out of the
bridesmaid gown, Tamara settled down on the chaise in her
bedroom to write in her journal.
August 22
My sister married her high-school sweetheart today. It was a
beautiful wedding, making it hard not to wonder if I'll ever
have one of my own. I have not been able to have a
relationship any longer than six or seven months. As I get
older, I find that I'm able to detect the lies much quicker.
If I am to be completely honest, then I must admit that part
of the reason I haven't found my Mr. Right is because I
treated him horribly when we were in college.
Right before graduation, I overheard some boys saying that
Micah was planning on having sex with me and that he was
going to play the "you're the love of my life" card because
that's what it would take to get me into bed.
I don't know why I believed them, but graduation night, when
he told me that he loved me, I told him that I would never
date a man like him and basically that he wasn't good enough
for me. It wasn't until much later that I realized Micah
didn't say those things—the guys had been joking around and
knew that I was listening to the conversation.
I want to explain but Micah never returned my phone calls,
and the next thing I knew he had moved to Los Angeles.
Our ten-year college reunion and homecoming is coming up in
October, but I'm not sure if Micah will be coming. I hope
that he will be in attendance…. I want to try and talk to
him one more time.
He is a famous record mogul now, but I don't care about
that. I just want a chance to apologize to Micah. The
tabloids have him romantically involved with that model
Sunni, so it is not as if he is available anyway. The truth
is that I really miss his friendship.
I miss him.
Los Angeles, California
Micah Ross stepped out of the sleek black limo in the midst
of a sea of hungry media photographers and reporters. He
focused his attention on the door of the Wilshire Grand
Hotel several yards away while assisting his date out of the
car.
He hated all the attention on him, but Micah knew that it
was an integral part of his business. He was the man who had
turned a tiny music store into million-dollar record label
Ross Red. His first two records sold a combined 1.5 million
copies before the mainstream music industry knew he existed.
Now his $500 million empire included music, clothes, real
estate, a product line of computers and communications.
A musician himself, Micah believed that one could only go so
far in the music business—something he tried to drill into
all of his artists. He pushed to get them to understand that
they needed to acquire the necessary skills and education to
have other options because one never knew what was going to
go up and what would go down.
"Over here, Mr. Ross," a photographer shouted.
Micah glanced in his direction and pasted on a smile. His
mouth tightened as Sunni, a supermodel, wrapped her arms
around him as cameras flashed all around them.
"Micah, please smile," she whispered. "At least try to look
like you're enjoying my company."
He chuckled. "Sunni, you know that I always enjoy hanging
out with you."
"Then smile. Just remember that you're the man they all want
to be. You are one of the most influential and wealthiest
men in the world, Micah. Baby, you should flaunt it."
All Micah wanted to do was get inside the hotel. He hated
walking the red carpet and avoided it whenever he could. Of
course, in his business one needed the media to be successful.
Grinning, Sunni posed for more photos along the red carpet.
She loved the spotlight so much so that it was rumored she
called or texted photographers her itinerary from time to time.
Once inside, they were still under the microscope as members
of the media scoured the Pacific Ballroom in search of the
Hollywood elite and other VIPs attending the charity benefit
for the Sickle Cell Disease Association.
Micah sat at a table surrounded by people from his artists
and repertoire (A&R), publicity and product development
departments.
They dined on a three-course meal: baby leaf lettuce with
marinated artichoke hearts and wedged Roma tomatoes and
Dijon vinaigrette, breast of Mediterranean chicken served
with sautéed artichokes, goat cheese mashed potatoes and
herbed Italian vegetables, mascarpone caramel cake for dessert.
One of the groups from his label walked on stage to perform.
"Eden sounds great tonight," Sunni stated as she sliced off
a piece of chicken and stuck it into his mouth.
Micah wiped his mouth with the edge of his napkin. "Yeah,
she does," he agreed, silently wishing that he could've
stayed home tonight.
He stood up and smiled politely when his generous donation
was acknowledged along with a long thundering applause.
Sunni reached over and took his hand. "I still can't believe
how shy you are when it comes to stuff like this. Honey, you
are one of the good guys," she stated. "You should be
walking around here with your head up high."
He gave her a narrowed glinting glance. "You know how I feel
about being in the public eye, Sunni. I don't like being
under a microscope."
"You're the CEO of a huge conglomerate, Micah," she
responded, rising finely arched eyebrows. "You'd better get
used to this because it's not going to go away."
Sunni took a sip of her hot tea.
Thirty minutes later, they left the ballroom. He had put in
an appearance so as far as Micah was concerned, his work was
done. He had a long day ahead of him and wanted to get some
rest.
Micah escorted Sunni out of the hotel.