Authors: Sloane B. Collins
Chapter 17
Twinkle lights lined the stone steps, forming a path into the chapel. Pale pink to deep blush flowers were gathered in bunches everywhere, perfuming the air.
The bride beamed, and Genevieve had never seen her cousin look happier. The wedding dress Roman created suited Connie Sue perfectly. She looked elegant, sophisticated, and would wow the guests.
Connie Sue clutched her bouquet of pink antique roses.
“You ready, Cuz?”
“Absolutely. Let’s go.”
The wedding planner opened the doors into the chapel, and the first bridesmaid walked down the aisle. The second soon followed.
Then it was Genevieve’s turn. She took a deep breath and steadied her fluttery nerves. She stepped onto the white runner, and heads turned to look at her. Bile rose in her throat. She really hated people looking at her. Especially this many. She stared forward, willing her stomach to calm.
Roman came into view, and he smiled at her. Winked.
He knew. Somehow, he remembered she hated being the center of attention, and he was sending her encouragement. She kept her gaze on his, focusing on him to get herself down the aisle.
Finally, she made it to her spot, and breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t have done it without him.
The first strains of “Ave Maria” played, and the guests rose. Connie Sue stepped onto the runner. Genevieve heard several gasps, and she bit her lip. Her cousin really did look stunning. She was going to be a countess, and definitely looked the part today.
She took the bouquet from Connie Sue, and her cousin stepped forward with Francois. Half turning toward the priest, Genevieve’s eyes kept straying to Roman. He looked so handsome, so elegant. Every inch the star he was. The dark-gray tuxedo and tails fit him to perfection. Not many men could wear a blush-striped cravat, but he carried it off with aplomb.
He caught her looking at him, and gave her a half-smile. Her cheeks heated, and she wished she could fan herself. She averted her eyes, but it didn’t last. She wouldn’t be in France much longer, so she kept sneaking looks at him. Couldn’t help it.
How am I going to get over him this time?
She had no choice . . . she’d have to do it.
The rings were exchanged, vows said, and before she knew it, the ceremony was over with. The Count and his new Countess walked back up the aisle.
Roman stepped forward and offered her his arm. She slid her hand under his elbow, feeling the muscles and strength in his arm. He may design women’s clothing for a living, but he kept in shape.
She glanced up at him, and he met her eyes. He pulled her a little closer, and they began their walk up the aisle. She breathed him in, the cologne she loved so much on him filling her senses.
They walked outside the chapel and up the lighted path to the chateau. Once inside, he stepped away from her, and her hand slid from beneath his crooked arm. Someone stopped him to talk, and she entered the ballroom alone.
Bereft now, it was like a big piece of her had suddenly gone missing.
Dinner was served, the cake was cut, and she made it through the toasts. Music swelled, and it was time for the bride and groom’s first dance.
She watched Francois lead Connie Sue to the dance floor. He looked so in love with his bride, and she knew he cherished her cousin. A slice of envy lashed through her. She wanted the love and happiness she saw reflected on her cousin’s face. Yes, she was thrilled for Connie Sue, but why couldn’t she have that too?
I could.
She subtly scanned the room, looking for the tallest man there. She finally saw Roman on the opposite side of the dance floor. He stood straight and tall, holding a champagne glass, his eyes on her.
From somewhere, deep inside, she mustered up a smile. This was supposed to be a joyous day for her cousin, after all.
The happy couple passed in front her, blocking her view, and she lost sight of him.
The music changed, and the orchestra leader asked the bridal party to take the floor.
Her skin heated, and she felt someone at her side. She didn’t have to look to know it was him. Her body knew him. Craved him.
“May I have this dance?”
His voice rumbled through her, sending her into a quivering mass. He led her to the dance floor, and she faced him, looking up into those delicious brown eyes.
He pulled her closer, slid a hand around her waist.
She put a trembling hand in his, and he quirked a brow.
“Are you okay?”
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “It’s all done. She’s married now, and I can stop worrying about her.” Would he buy it?
He pulled her even closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the feel of being in his arms again. For one last time.
One dance flowed into the next. She wanted to stay there all night, dancing. Wanted to stay there forever. In his arms.
All too soon, the music stopped, and the orchestra leader announced it was time for the bride to toss the bouquet. She reluctantly pulled away from Roman, and he led her to the side of the dance floor.
He kissed her cheek, his lips lingering, before he disappeared into the crowd.
Daniel nudged her. “Okay, get up there to the front of the crowd.”
“No way. Don’t be ridiculous! I’m too old.”
“You’re thirty-four, still a spring chicken. You get up there now, Sugar. You have just as much a chance at catching the bouquet as anyone. Now get up to the front.”
“Maybe I don’t want to catch it.
You
go catch it. You’re single.”
He gave her his stubborn look. “Get up there or I will drag you there myself.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going to catch it, even if it does come near me.”
“You never know,” he singsonged.
“What am I missing here?”
“Nothing, nothing. Now go before it’s too late!” He pushed her to the front of the dance floor.
She joined the throng of laughing single women, feeling mortified.
Connie Sue stepped up on the orchestra’s platform and faced the crowd of women. “Ready, ladies? May the best person catch the bouquet!”
Genevieve saw her cousin glance her way before she turned around.
Oh no. She better not!
Connie Sue turned her back on the women, and counted down. “Three, two, one!” She raised her arm and tossed the bouquet over her head.
The mass of flowers sailed straight at her, trailing ribbons. She tried to duck so it would reach the person behind her, but no luck. It headed right for her face, like a heat-seeking missile.
She had no choice but to catch it.
Damn Connie Sue and her perfect pitching arm.
Her cousin turned around, and squealed, clapping her hands. She stepped off the platform and hurried to Genevieve.
“I did it! I wanted you to catch it!”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“Oh come on. This will bring you luck with a certain someone you’re crazy about.”
“Just because you’re getting your happily ever after doesn’t mean I need one.”
Her cousin’s face fell. “I was just trying to help.”
A rush of love went through Genevieve. “I know you were, and I appreciate it. Come on, let’s go celebrate.” She linked arms with Connie Sue and they headed for the champagne table.
Roman escaped the crowded ballroom, and opened the door to the terrace. He inhaled, smelling the perfumed air of the rose garden lining the old stone wall below. He heard a noise and looked to the right. Genevieve sat at the outdoor table in the faint glow of light, trying to open a bottle of champagne. The bouquet she had caught sat on the table, a glaring reminder of his lost dreams.
He hesitated, wanted to avoid her. But his feet would not listen, and he walked a few steps closer.
“I see you caught the bouquet.”
“It was kind of hard not to when Connie Sue threw it straight at me.” She grinned ruefully.
“She intended for you to catch it?”
“Oh yes. If you haven’t realized it yet, Connie Sue gets an idea in her head, and she will gnaw on it like a dog with a bone. I think she and Daniel cooked it up ahead of time, because he forced me to the front of the crowd when she was ready to toss the bouquet.”
He chuckled. “But how could she guarantee you would catch it?”
“She played softball all through school, even won awards for pitching. She used those skills tonight to get that bouquet in my hands. You can bet Melly and or Bella will be taught the finer points of pitching one day.”
It was good to see her laugh again. “Why are you out here alone?”
“I almost forgot! I’m celebrating.”
“Oh?”
She held up the unopened bottle of champagne. “I finally got an email from the bank. They approved my loan.” She patted the bench next to her. “Come help me celebrate.”
He forced himself forward, but propped a foot on the bench instead of sitting next to her. “Then congratulations are in order. I’m sure you are very relieved and happy.” He pulled the bottle from her hands, but she grabbed it back.
“I can open it.” She tried once again to open the bottle.
He sighed. “Why can you not accept help from anyone?”
Her gaze flew to his, and she looked surprised.
“You can be so stubborn, and you insist on doing everything yourself. Would you please just let me open the bottle for you? Allow me this one small thing?”
She handed the bottle to him. “Thank you.” She picked up the flute from the table and waited.
He popped the cork and poured, filling her glass with sparkling bubbles.
She sipped from the champagne flute. “Have some champagne . . . Oh shoot, I only have the one glass.”
“No matter,” he said, taking her glass. He held the glass up to her in a toast, then deliberately turned the glass so he drank from the spot where her lips had rested a moment before.
Her breath hitched audibly.
He glanced at her, noticed her eyes glued to his tongue as he licked a drop from the side of the flute. He handed the glass back to her and sat down on the stone bench, his thigh pressed alongside hers.
She leaned into his side, laid her head on his shoulder for a moment. Even though his heart was breaking, he wanted to take her upstairs. Or better yet, home to his own bed, and keep her there forever. His future would be bleak without her in it.
She drained the glass, then refilled it and handed it to him. “I’m sorry.”
He turned to her, studied her serious face in the glow of light spilling from the chateau. “For what?”
Taking his hand in hers, she linked her cool fingers with his. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I know you only wanted to help me. Please forgive me.” She dropped a kiss on the back of his hand. “I don’t want to leave here with you hating me. Again.”
He set the glass on the table, next to the bouquet. She looked up at him, and he gently cupped her cheek. She nestled her face against his palm. He kissed her slowly, luxuriating in her lips.
“I don’t hate you,” he said, pulling back slightly. “This is your career, your life. I don’t want to let you go, but I understand your home is in the States. Your life is there. I don’t want this to be goodbye, however. I want to remain in touch with you, come visit you.”
She pulled away from him and stood up. Already the miles separated them.
“But . . . you live here. You don’t get to America very often, do you? Much less Atlanta. What are you talking about?”
He stood up and faced her. “I will fly there to see you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I told you, you need to find someone who can give you what you want, give you the children you want.”
His future crumbled faster than ever. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Genevieve, please—” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from tossing her over his shoulder and carting her home.
The door opened, and Daniel stepped out on the terrace.
“There you are, Sugar. I didn’t know where you’d disappeared to. You should be back inside. People are raving about the wedding cake, and want to meet the cake designer.” He looked from one to the other. “Am I interrupting something?”
Roman glanced at her. “You are not interrupting. I was just leaving.” He strode toward the stone staircase leading to the garden. But as he headed down the steps, he thought he heard Genevieve mutter “Dammit.”
He had been willing to fly to see her frequently, to pay for her ticket to see him in France when she could. Obviously she wanted nothing to do with him, but was trying to let him down easily. He scoffed. So much for easy.
Once again, she’d broken his heart. This time he didn’t think he could pick up the pieces. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to reach his new home. He would start his new life as a hermit that very evening.
Genevieve took a step, wanting to chase after him, but faltered to a stop. Roman disappeared down the garden steps. The old gate clanged as it slammed closed. Her hand closed over the charm bracelet. She fingered the heart charm, felt her own breaking.
“What’s going on?” Daniel asked.
“My loan got approved.”
Daniel whooped and picked her up, turning her in a circle. He set her down, then looked at her. “You don’t seem too excited. Why aren’t you celebrating?”