Adrianne Byrd - Two Grooms and a Wedding

He popped the collar of his raincoat. “Well. What can I say?”

They arrived at their destination and Derrick stopped her the moment she reached for her purse. “The fare is on me.”

“I can pay my half,” she protested.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m much too much of a gentleman to allow you.”

“Allow?”

He nodded and handed the cabbie a couple of twenties. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” said the driver.

Derrick’s mysterious companion bolted from the cab, and he found himself having to rush to catch up to her. “Hey! Where’s the fire?”

The woman quickened her pace without sparing him a glance or answering his question.

“If you worry that I’m some sort of stalker, let me assure you I’m not.”

“You could have fooled me.” She sprinted through the restaurant’s door and scanned the place to see if she saw her mother.

He laughed, though he had to admit his behavior was a quagmire to himself. “Listen. I know we didn’t exactly meet under the ideal circumstances, but uh—”

“There you are, Mr. Knight.”

Derrick turned and smiled at Congressman Jamison Scott. “Hello, Congressman.”

At that moment, Isabella caught sight of her mother waving from the other side the restaurant.

Derrick regretfully watched her slip away. Later, he realized, he never caught her name, but he could have sworn he saw an engagement ring.

“This is positively going to be the wedding of the season,” Katherine droned from across the table. “Of course, I think we should have it in Martha’s Vineyard, but your father insists on having it at our Arlington estate. What do you think?”

When Isabella didn’t answer, her mother prodded her. “Isabella?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

“Huh? What?” Isabella hadn’t heard half of what her mother was rambling about the wedding.

“The wedding?” her mother said. “I asked whether you wanted to have the wedding in Martha’s Vineyard or in Arlington. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand why we can’t just have a small ceremony,” Isabella said, popping two pain pills into her mouth. “At this rate, I would prefer it if we just went to the courthouse and do this.”

Katherine’s face twisted in horror.

“It’s just an idea,” Isabella retracted.

“It’s a terrible one,” Katherine said, reaching across the dining table for the travel size tube of pain medication. “This is the social function of the year for the Kanes.”

“I think you’ve said that already.”

Katherine pursed her lips together and then tried another tactic. “Well, your father is on cloud nine about this political merger. A highly publicized wedding with the Jarretts in an election year is just what he needs to get the voters to forget about his backing that Davis Bill.”

“I’m not cattle,” Isabella mumbled and resumed playing with her smoked sea bass.

Her mother chased the pills with the rest of her champagne and then returned her attention to Isabella. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

“Of course, I think a lot of it has to do with Randall reminding your father how he used to be when he first arrived on the Hill.” Katherine leveled a sweet smile at her daughter and then reached over and cupped one of her apple-plump cheeks. “My baby. I can’t believe you’re about to get married. Where has the time gone?”

Isabella smiled back at her mother and covered the hand on her cheek with their own. A measure of happiness bloomed in her heart. She loved being the cause of her parents’ happiness. It was almost worth marrying someone she didn’t love.

“I think it’s time.”

Confused, Isabella stared at her mother. “Time for what?”

Katherine cleared her throat. “You know. Time.”

Isabella stared.

Her mother lowered her hand and shifted around in her chair. After making a few cursory glances over her shoulder, she leaned forward.

Still at a loss, Isabella followed suit and leaned closer as well.

“Time for…The Talk,” Katherine whispered. “You know.”

“The Talk?”

Her mother nodded and resumed looking uncomfortable in her chair.

Finally, it hit Isabella. “Oh.” A rush of heat surged through her. “Oh. The Talk.” Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably. “That’s okay, Mom. There’s no need for that. It’s okay.” She reached for her untouched champagne and downed the contents in a single gulp.

Stricken, Katherine pressed a hand against her heart. “Isabella Elizabeth Kane, don’t tell me that you’ve…that you’re no longer…you know.” She whipped her head around; making sure again no one was listening, and leaned forward to whisper. “A virgin.”

The pain medication lost the war with Isabella’s raging migraine. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “Of course I am,” she whispered, equally appalled.

Her mother almost collapsed with relief. “Oh thank goodness. I knew I raised a good Baptist girl.” She finally picked up her shoulders and straightened in her chair. “In fact, I’m sure it’s one of the qualities Randall likes about you. You’re so pure and innocent,” her mother prattled on. “A man knows the difference between a woman you play with and a woman you marry—especially a political man.”

Isabella went back to feeling like cattle. For the past week she’d tried to convince herself that Randall’s proposal was based on love or at least a serious case of like, but her mother dismissed those notions with the same ease in which she’d told her that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

Pressing her lips together, Isabella tuned out her mom and went back to pushing her food around her plate. She lost her appetite over an hour ago. Not that her mother would notice.

“Isabella,” Katherine snapped.

“What? Huh?”

Her mother’s fork tumbled from her fingers. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” she accused.

Isabella started to deny the charge but then decided to come clean. “Sorry. I just…have a lot on my mind,” she offered with a smile. “You know: the wedding and all. What were you saying?”

Katherine still looked put out, but continued in a low voice. “I was talking to you about your honeymoon night.”

Isabella fought all that was holy not to groan and roll her eyes.

“When your father and I—”

“Mom,” Isabella cut her off. Despite being twenty-seven, and being the product of her parents’ coupling, Isabella didn’t want to imagine her parents ever having sex. “I know it’s important for you to have this conversation with me, but I really don’t think I can handle it.”

Katherine looked hurt.

“It’s just…awkward,” Isabella covered. “Maybe I should learn about it like everyone else—from my friends.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Please not from that Wakey girl.”

“Waqueisha.”

“Whatever. She’ll probably tell you to charge for it.”

“Mom.”

Katherine waved her hand in the air. “Fine. Talk to your friends. But take my advice: it’s best to lie still and recite the alphabet. It’ll be over before you reach Z.”

“Mother.”

“Alright, alright.” Her mother tossed her hands up in the air. “That’s all I have to say.”

Isabella sincerely hoped so.

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