Debbi Rawlins - The Honeymoon That Wasn't

She closed her eyes, praying for sleep. When it wouldn’t come, she tried thinking about work, mentally preparing herself for her court appearance in a few hours. But the distraction only lasted a few minutes before her thoughts drifted back to tonight. Back to Tony.

Groaning, she rolled over onto her side and grabbed the pillow she’d discarded. Comfortably sitting up again, she placed her laptop in front of her. She turned it on and saw she had a new e-mail. Good God, someone from Eve’s Apple had already replied.

To: LegallyNuts@EvesApple.com

From: BabyBlu@EvesApple.com

Subject: Losing it

Hey, D, just read your post. Yeah, I’m an insomniac, too. And we share another similar problem. A guy. Go figure. While it’s not too late for you though, I’ve already blown my chance.

You see, I was once exactly where you are. Worried about my career, worried about what my parents thought (I’m Jewish, he isn’t), worried about having all the right accoutrements to my upwardly mobile life.

Dakota stopped reading. Similar problem? Where had this woman—Dakota glanced down at the name—Carson, gotten all this crap? Rather large assumption. Dakota hadn’t mentioned anything of this nature. None of it applied. Not really. Okay, so maybe her parents were an issue, to the extent that they’d had a vision for her early on, encouraging her to study law and now strongly hoped that she’d eventually become a judge. Just a minor issue. It wasn’t as if she allowed them to govern her life. Sure, she relished their approval but what child didn’t?

As far as her career went, well, she was sufficiently secure. No worries there. Not that she wanted to test the waters… But that didn’t mean she was anything like Carson.

Her gaze was drawn back to the e-mail. She couldn’t help herself and resumed reading.

And to my parents’ delight, I became wildly successful. Mainly thanks to the real estate boom, doncha know? Yep, I’m a realtor, commercial sales mostly—high end. And that’s how I met Larry. He was a finish carpenter working on one of the buildings I was showing to a client.

Dakota abruptly stopped reading. A carpenter? That was creepy. Tony wasn’t a carpenter but a construction worker. Close enough. Professional woman meets blue-collar guy. Sounded like one of those awful talk shows on television with everyone screaming at each other.

She shuddered. Fatigue was really doing a number on her imagination. She left the rest of the e-mail unread and then skimmed a couple more that had popped up, both encouraging her to go for it. Then she signed off. She needed sleep. Not just for her court appearance, but to get through this evening. Without making an ass out of herself.

“SHE’S GOING TO BE LATE.”

Tony San Angelo looked at his friend Dallas. “Who?”

She smiled and sipped her martini. “Dakota’s always late on Friday nights. Too much happening at the office.”

“Hey, you’re getting married. It’s a big thing. She can’t make it to her only sister’s rehearsal dinner on time?”

“As long as she’s not late to the church tomorrow, I don’t care.” She elbowed him. “Relax. She’ll be here.”

“Like I care.”

“Uh-huh.” Dallas took another sip, trying to hide her smile.

“Nice place,” he said, pretending interest in the private dining room of the swank Manhattan restaurant. Hadn’t Dallas already told him he had zero chance with her sister? Not that he believed that. “I hope you and Eric didn’t have to spring for this little soiree.”

“Eric insisted on it because my parents are paying for the wedding. My father did try to argue because Eric’s parents are gone. Yada, yada. You know how all that male posturing goes.”

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

She grinned.

“Hey, I’m wounded.”

“Kidding,” she quipped. “You’re the least macho guy I know.”

“Ah, man. Now I’m irreparably wounded.”

“Okay, I’ll try this again. You’re macho without the macho mind-set. Better?”

“Hey, hey, break it up. People are talking.” Eric joined them and clapped Tony on the arm. “Good to see you.”

“I wouldn’t miss this. Our little Dallas getting married. Hope you plan on keeping her barefoot and pregnant.”

She socked him in the arm.

Eric chuckled. “Now, now, children.”

Tony liked him. Great guy for Dallas, even if he was a suit who worked off Madison Avenue.

A waiter came in, and said something to Dallas’s father. He nodded and then called for everyone’s attention, giving them a two-minute warning before dinner would be served.

The rest of the bridal party was already there, nibbling on shrimp and imported cheeses, and guzzling drinks, all the really premium stuff. Even Dallas’s snobby brother had made it on time, and he was one of the head honchos at the law firm where Dakota worked.

Tony drained his beer, the trusty domestic kind, and sat at the far end of the long, elegantly set table. The seat gave him an excellent view of the door, not that he was that anxious to see Dakota again. Okay, maybe he was. The woman was totally beautiful. Light brown hair, gray-blue eyes, incredible legs. But his strategy had more to do with keeping his distance from the senior Sheas.

Dallas’s parents had been cordial enough, but that didn’t mean he’d like to make small talk with them. They were different, too serious in his opinion; both scholars, he a judge, she a professor. Tony was strictly blue-collar. A college dropout. No regrets. He liked his no-headache job, liked living life on his own terms, not getting calls in the middle of the night like his pop did.

Nancy sat next to him. She was the only other person here he knew besides Dallas because they’d all worked on the same construction crew at one time.

At first he thought Nancy had bumped his knee by mistake when she scooted her chair closer to the table, but then she did it again. He looked over at her.

“Why do we have so many forks?” she murmured, her lips barely moving.

“Beats me. But I know you’re supposed to work from the outside in.”

“Okay.” She dubiously glanced around at everyone else and, mimicking them, placed her white linen napkin on her lap.

“The hell with it, I’m eating with my fingers.”

Her stricken gaze flew to him.

“That was a joke.”

She gave him a reproachful look, and then smiled at the white-gloved waiter as he set her Caesar salad in front of her.

Tony sighed. That was the trouble with these high-class places. You couldn’t relax. Have fun. Of course he’d keep his opinion to himself. He’d never hurt Dallas. This wasn’t just her wedding—these were her people.

His attention strayed to the door. Still no Dakota. No one seemed concerned. Not even Mr. and Mrs. Shea. In fact, from what Dallas had told him, they probably approved that she put work ahead of everything else.

Man, he didn’t understand these people. His parents would’ve given him or any of his three siblings a lecture right then and there. In front of everyone. The deal had always been, if the kids were willing to screw up in public, then they got reprimanded likewise. Even though none of them were kids anymore.

While being on time for a party in the San Angelo family was never a problem. When his older sister had gotten married the party had started two days before the wedding and didn’t end until three the morning after the reception.

The salad plates were cleared and the rack of lamb was just being served when Dakota showed up. Still dressed in her navy-blue power suit, she had her hair pulled back in an awful, matronly style. Nancy and the other bridesmaid were all gussied up, Dallas more causally elegant in a simple cream-colored silk dress.