Aimee Carson - The Unexpected Wedding Guest

“I’m not kidding,” Dylan said, as if the words made total sense. “You need to hear him out.”

She blinked. Hear him out? Maybe she hadn’t heard him right. Maybe the bazillion yards of tulle netting billowing around her legs created some sort of sound buffer. Absorbing the words around her. Distorting them.

“Why on earth would I want to do that?” she said.

“He’s not so bad.”

“Thanks,” Mason said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

She ignored her ex and addressed her fiancé. “And you’re basing your assessment of the man on a fifteen-minute game of basketball?” Why did the male species feel fit to judge a person simply based on their ability to toss a ball through a hoop? “I was married to the man for a year, Dylan.”

“The man risked his life on a regular basis to help out his fellow Marines,” Dylan said, his voice holding a hint of censure. “He’s a decorated hero, Reese. He deserves to be heard.”

Mason looked away, appearing uncomfortable.

Reese pinched the bridge of her nose and struggled to remain calm. She didn’t care what kind of medals he’d earned. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, rehash the unhappiest days of her life. Especially right before the day that was supposed to be her happiest.

She dropped her hand to her side, feeling defeated. “I don’t have time for this, Dylan.”

Dylan swiped a hand through his black hair, leaving the ends spiked. His eyes held a kind of gut-sinking certainty that made her insides twist. “Why the hurry now? It took you two years to set a date for our wedding.”

Reese sucked in a breath. Was this the reason behind Dylan’s behavior? And how many times did she have to explain? She ignored the curious look in Mason’s eyes.

“I wanted to be sure,” she said, hating how the words sounded like an excuse. “And I didn’t ask Mason to show up—”

Dylan took her elbow and led her into the rose garden.

“It’s not just his arrival, Reese,” Dylan said in a low voice. He came to a stop and released her arm, his gaze flat as he stared off across the rows of rosebushes. “Personally, I think he’s the reason you dragged your feet setting a date.”

The words were too big to digest.

“Of course he is,” she said, trying to remain calm. “Because I didn’t want to screw up again. I wanted everything to be perfect—”

“Exactly,” he said. “You seemed more fixated on getting the wedding just right than on our future together.”

Her mouth fell open, and she tried to formulate a logical response.

“And when you stand up at that altar with me and say I do,” Dylan went on, “I want to know that the only thing on your mind is me.” He returned his gaze to hers. “I want to be certain that you’ve put the past behind you.”

“Dylan, I—”

“You know I care about you.” He stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “That hasn’t changed.”

The ominous feeling grew bigger. She needed Dylan to be understanding. She needed him to support her in this. Because she wasn’t strong enough to fight both men.

“But we have to start our lives with a clean slate,” Dylan went on. “And we can’t do that until you resolve this thing between the two of you.”

“The only thing left between us is hostility.”

“A lot of hostility.” He eyed her with a trace of suspicion. “Too much hostility. Have you ever wondered why?”

“He’s my ex-husband,” she said incredulously. “According to standard social conventions, I’m supposed to hate him.”

“Maybe,” he said, looking unconvinced. “But I don’t want to marry you until I’m sure there isn’t something else going on.”

Panic swelled. “Are you canceling the wedding?”

His gaze was steady, as if the words didn’t light a fuse that exploded in her head. “I’m postponing it.”

She stared at him, her lids stretched so wide she was sure they’d crack. In six days two hundred guests were set to watch her walk down the aisle. Two hundred of their closest friends and family. He just couldn’t back out now, could he?

But when she opened her mouth to protest, he interrupted.

“The ceremony is just that, Reese. A ceremony. What’s important is what comes after,” he said. She blinked back the shock, remembering she’d said that very thing to her friends oh so many years ago. “Our life together.”

Good God, how could she argue with that without sounding petty and superficial?

But two hundred people...

He lightly squeezed her hands, as if to comfort her. Fat lot of good that did her now.

“You have to go figure out what it is that you want, Reese,” Dylan said as if it were the most reasonable statement in the world.

And as he removed his hands from hers, he gently pulled the engagement ring from her finger, closing his palm around the diamond. The sense of finality weighed heavily in her chest.

“And when it’s all said and done, if it’s me that you choose,” he said, “I’ll still be here.”

* * *

This wasn’t playing out at all like he’d planned.

One hour after Reese had come barreling around the side of the house in a cloud of flouncing fabric, interrupting the game of one-on-one, Mason sat in his truck, wondering what had just happened. The animosity and the visual daggers Reese had chucked in his direction had been expected. He’d known all along he’d have to endure a lot of anger before getting the chance at having a frank discussion. In the ideal scenario, they would have cleared the air, reached a tenuous understanding, and then shared a drink for old times’ sake. And if he’d been really lucky, he would’ve bought her fiancé a drink and wished them both well.

But nowhere within the range of possible outcomes had he envisioned the groom calling off the wedding.

Reese hadn’t wanted him around before, so she sure as hell wouldn’t be partial toward his company now. So when Dylan had taken off in his Jaguar to head back home to Manhattan, Mason had climbed into The Beast with every intention of driving away. But something kept him from turning the key.

And when a large refrigerated van pulled up behind him in the driveway, the decision was more or less made for him. The deliverymen were adamant the ice sculptures needed to be moved to the freezer ASAP.

Mason hopped down from his truck and told the driver to pull around back. Feeling fairly unenthusiastic about the errand, he then went in search of Reese. He found her sitting on the bottom stair of the massive Bellington Hall foyer.

An angelic vision in white—the picture of class.

Her wedding dress was a white puff of fluffy netting, the color too close to the shade of her face. Her expression was blank, as if all emotion had been drained from her soul and capped. She didn’t look up when he entered, and his footsteps echoed across the endless marble floor as he crossed and came to a stop in front of Reese.

He hated the lost look on her face.

And somehow, he didn’t think the arrival of the ice sculptures for her wedding was going to cheer her up. In the silence that stretched, he rubbed his temple, the hint of a headache threatening.

Hell, not now. Not now.

“Jesus, Reese,” he said, his voice gruff. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She looked up at him with eyes the color of a summertime sky, and his gut twisted with guilt.

“What did you think would happen, Mason?”

“I sure as hell didn’t think your fiancé would walk away.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “After you left, I tried to explain. To talk him out of leaving.”

“I called him on his cell,” she said. Her lips looked as if they were trying to smile, but he thought he saw them tremble once. “But, apparently he’s had his doubts about me for a while.”