Millie Criswell - Staying Single

This had to be his new sister-in-law.

What was her name? Frances? Fiona? Florence?

Applying the brake, he reached out to grab the camera on the seat next to him, rolled down the window and began snapping photos, while he recited all the F names he knew.

For the life of him, Mark couldn’t remember her name. He’d never met his little brother’s fiancée and hadn’t been enamored of the idea that Matt was getting married so quickly after meeting the woman just three short months ago.

Hell, he knew dogs who’d had longer courtships!

And what was that saying? Marry in haste…

“Shit! I’m too late. I missed the wedding. They’re already married.”

A thousand apologies raced through his mind until the realization hit him that his brother hadn’t followed his bride out of the church, nor had any of the relatives, including his dad and stepmother. They should have been waiting on the church steps to greet the happy couple with rice or birdseed or whatever the hell it was that folks used these days to pelt happy couples all in the name of good luck.

Setting the camera aside, he double-parked his green Ford Explorer and watched his brother’s new bride lift her wedding dress off the ground, displaying a pair of rather nice legs, then disappear around the side of the church, looking over her shoulder a few times as if to make sure no one was following.

Why was the bride so anxious to leave?

And where the hell was his brother?

Suddenly, Mark got a really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the dry turkey sandwich he’d eaten on the plane a few hours before. He made it a point to always heed his gut instincts; they’d never steered him wrong in the past.

And Mark knew his brother to be the sensitive sort, who wore his heart on his sleeve and romanticized every little thing about his relationships. Hadn’t he warned Matt that wearing rose-colored glasses would get him into trouble one day?

Marry in haste…repent at leisure.

He’d been the romantic once, before he’d woken up to the fact that women of today weren’t interested in commitment or long-term relationships, and that they didn’t know their own minds.

It was slam, bam, thank you, mister!

Mark’s recent relationships had left him unfulfilled. The sex had been great. But sex without commitment was just…well, sex.

He wanted more than that. He wanted what his parents had—love, trust, someone to share a life with.

But all he’d gotten so far was a swift kick in the butt and feeble explanations of the “I’m not ready to commit yet” sort. Mark was all kinds of a fool to even think he’d meet anyone interested in making a life with him.

Women, he’d discovered the hard way, were duplicitous, selfish and self-serving. And he was damn sick and tired of it. So much so that if he found out that his brother’s new bride was of a similar ilk, there was going to be hell to pay. He’d make damn sure of that.

“YOU NAUGHTY GIRL! I had a sick feeling that something would go wrong today. Of course, I base that on three years of living with you. Cold feet again, huh?”

Leo’s familiar face warmed Francie’s heart as she ripped off her veil, pulled aside the voluminous folds of white organza and lace that made up the skirt of her wedding gown and sat next to him at the small round table, waving and smiling at Manny, who was across the deli preparing a customer’s order.

“Hey, Francie!” Manny called. “What’s this one make? Number three, right? And you call your mother The Terminator.” He threw back his head and laughed, then added, “I’m just glad I got over my crush on you when I was seventeen, or I’d have ended up a ruined man.”

Francie smiled weakly. “You got my pastrami on rye ready? I can’t stick around here long. My mother will be on my trail in no time.”

“Leo’s got everything. I’m just finishing up his take-out order. It’ll be just a few more minutes.”

Francie’s roommate reached out and clasped her hand, his touch as comforting as always. Next to Joyce, Leo was her best friend. Not only did they share an apartment, they shared confidences, relationship problems and Leo’s obsession with dining out.

“Tell me what happened, sweetie. I really thought Matt had a chance. He’s just so adorable. But I digress. Apparently you don’t find him as attractive as I do.” He grinned and the cleft in his chin dimpled.

Heaving a sigh, Francie replied, “Matt’s wonderful. I like him a lot. He’s handsome, successful—a great guy. But I don’t love him, and that’s the problem. I’m just not ready to take that final step. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone I don’t love.”

If she ever decided to get married—and that was a big if, and not at all likely, especially after today—she wanted to find a man who would knock her socks off, sweep her off her feet and make her fall madly in love. Since no such man existed, on this planet anyway, Francie felt relatively safe from the strangulation…um, bonds of matrimony.

“I take it there was no spark between you two.”

“His kisses were nice, but…” She shook her head, wondering if her expectations were too high. Maybe those tingles, that quickening of the heartbeat and sweaty palms she’d been reading about didn’t really exist.

“Bells and whistles didn’t go off?”

“Exactly. I’m just glad Matt was willing to wait to consummate our relationship. I sort of insisted we delay until the honeymoon and…”

Leo’s grin was lascivious. “Hey, maybe he’s gay.”

“You’re incorrigible, Leo. Matt seems very straight to me. He’s just a nice guy, who made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong woman…namely me. And now I’ve hurt him terribly, and I hate myself for it.

“I should have never let my mother browbeat me into marriage. This obsession she has about me getting married is unhealthy…for both of us.”

Josephine’s greatest aspiration in life was to see her two daughters married and settled down, preferably with five or six children that she could dote on, but she’d take two if push came to shove.

Her mother had spent years saving for Francie’s wedding—now weddings—making elaborate plans, buying not one, but three fabulous dresses, finding not one, but three perfect, in her estimation, grooms. And knowing how much all this meant to her mother, Francie had a difficult time bursting her bubble.

Did she say Josephine had turned meddling into an art form? Try manipulation. She was even better at that.

“So, just say no.”

Francie rolled her eyes at the absurdity of Leo’s suggestion. “Have you ever tried saying no to my mother? Josephine is like a steamroller, leveling everything in her path. She never gives up, just keeps at me until all I want her to do is shut up and leave me alone. In the end I always relent, and she knows it. I’ve done it all my life. I’m programmed for it. Twenty-nine years old, and I’m pathetic.”

Nodding in understanding, Leo squeezed her hand gently. “I know, sweetie. But there’s going to come a day when you’ll have to stand up to Josephine. I think if you do, she’ll back down.”

“Really?” A tiny kernel of hope blossomed in Francie’s chest, reflecting in her voice. “Do you think so, Leo?”

Apology filling his dark eyes, he shook his head. “No. But it sounds like good advice. You can’t keep allowing your mother to control your life, Francie. These trips to the altar are not only emotionally taxing, they’re expensive.”

She sighed at the truth of his words, knowing her job with Ted Baxter Promotions didn’t pay that well. Not enough to keep up with recent expenditures, anyway. “Where am I going this time?”