Chapter 16

It was indeed a good time, and she wasn’t just saying that. The staff at Rambling Ridge had done a fantastic job turning the lodge and pavilion into a perfect reception venue with the stylish southern twist that personified Tom and Jenna. And the DJ hadn’t had a bad number yet; he played enough country to satisfy the crowd without overplaying it enough to annoy those guests with more varied tastes. The food was perfection, the guests happy, and the same romantic lighting from jazz night gave the whole venue a magical feel.

Giving in to the cliché, Tom and Jenna had chosen to have their first dance to Martina McBride and Pat Monahan’s version of Train’s “Marry Me.” It should have given Mal plenty of cause to roll her eyes, but somehow, she had no desire to do anything but smile and endure the odd burning sensation behind her eyes and in her throat.

She stood near her family, and Caroline wrapped an arm around her, at which point Uncle Drake did the same with Caroline and Aunt Cady, and Lucas followed suit with his mother. It took Mal longer to recover from that moment than she would have expected. Despite her best attempts in the past to claim that she had no family, it now felt as perfect as any family could ever be.

Maybe she was done shutting her childhood away. Now that she realized what she had been missing, there was no way she could go back. She was a Hudson, after all—through and through.

Drake and Jenna shared an adorable and laughter-filled dance, and Tom took his mother for a spin on the floor, making her smile and look every bit as warm as her son.

Mal found Hunter often over the course of the night, but they didn’t spend as much time together as she would have liked. It wasn’t possible with her having to take pictures at times as well as join in the party, especially with the likes of Aunt Joni and Great-Aunt Pearl trying to snatch up whatever gossip they could. She dodged her second cousin Vance, who’d spent too much time in the more rural parts of Kentucky, it seemed. She also caught sight of the infamous stripper from the bachelorette party, who was dancing a little too closely with Alexis. Apparently, there was something going on there.

There was dancing aplenty and just as much singing along to the songs. The only upset of the night was when the DJ played “Rocky Top,” and the non-Tennessee fans protested. But considering the bride, everyone else was overruled. There was even a dash of line dancing, which rounded out her mental tally of wedding reception bingo.

Food was constantly being refreshed, and it was a tribute to the best of the South, which delighted everyone except the starving bridesmaids, who made do with the lemon slices from the glasses of water the waiters brought around.

Tables had been set up along the stone courtyard between the pavilion and the beach for those who wanted to experience some fresh air away from the dancing or prop up their feet. From the pavilion, Mal could see couples walking hand in hand along the courtyard and over the lighted walking bridge. She sighed and hoped that soon things would be calm enough for her to slip away with Hunter for a few moments. She couldn’t leave before Jenna and Tom made their grand theatrical exit, but that didn’t mean she had to be present for everything.

She made her way back into the lodge to take the stairs to the upper level, thinking she could get some interesting angles from there. She’d long lost track of Taryn and Dan, and considering they’d all had to turn in their phones, she probably wouldn’t be able to track them down until it was time to leave the next day. She couldn’t think about that right now. It was too unsettling.

She found a few people in the quieter upper room, one of whom was Grace, who smiled and waved as Mal approached and moved aside so Mal could get her shots. She saw Hunter on one side of the pavilion, grinning and chatting with Tom’s brothers, having removed his jacket and loosened his tie some time ago. He looked as perfect as ever, but somehow less untouchable. And that made her smile.

A leggy blonde girl approached the group and hugged them all, including Hunter, and all three smiled at her as she talked animatedly. She had a perfect figure—fit enough to be an athlete, curvy enough to be a Victoria’s Secret model—and her dress flattered everything about her. She could have been custom designed for any of the guys there.

She matched everyone else here. And none of the guys were taking their eyes off her. Mal didn’t like her one bit.

“Hey, Grace? Who’s the girl down there with Dave and Trent?” she asked in a faux-nonchalant voice, pretending to take pictures of the rest of the group. “I don’t recognize her.”

Grace came over and looked, adjusting her beaded strap. “Oh, I wondered if she might show up. That’s Emma Halliday. She’s a Vanderbilt cousin,” she added in a stage whisper.

Of course she was.

“Awesome,” Mal tried, going for enthusiastic. “She knows the Yardleys?”

“She knows all of them,” Grace said, tapping the window absently. “Since childhood, I guess. She and Hunter went steady a couple of times on and off since high school. Got pretty serious like three years ago.”

My longest one was also an on and off one . . .

Mal stiffened and managed to pass it off as craning her neck and stretching. “Oh yeah? How serious?” She didn’t need the answer, but she wanted to hear it all the same.

Emma was the ex. Mal knew it; she had to be. The ex Sophie had flung in her face, and Caroline had confirmed.

Emma Halliday was the one.

Grace gave her a look. “Uh, Hunter had a ring. Never got around to giving it to her. She decided she wanted to go into the Peace Corps or teach English in Indonesia or study male models in Italy—maybe all of the above. Bad break, I heard, but they’d been friends so long, it became amicable after a few months. She always wanted to go back to him but didn’t know if he’d take her back. And Hunter had never had a girl this serious before, so . . .” She looked back at the group with a small frown. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought she was dating a baseball player.”

The way she was flirting with the gang, Mal doubted she was dating anyone, but she certainly had plans to. She wasn’t focused on the group in general. She had eyes only for Hunter.

And he wasn’t looking anywhere else.

Grace eventually wandered off while Mal kept watching, and the more Hunter smiled, the more uneasy she grew. Then Emma whispered something in his ear, and he frowned but nodded and took her arm, leading her away from the music and off the pavilion. Mal followed along the windows of the upper room and saw them go down the stone steps toward the beach.

They talked for a few minutes, and Hunter’s expression didn’t change at all. He kept his arms folded loosely, listening as intensely as he ever did, while Emma’s hands moved and flailed with her words. Mal wasn’t close enough to read lips, and the lighting was awful, but she felt her heart jump into her throat when Hunter’s arms unfolded and his hands went to his hips. His head lowered, and he nodded just once.

Then, for whatever reason, Emma started crying. Mal saw Hunter’s shoulders move on a sigh, and he pulled Emma into a tight embrace. He stroked her hair, murmured in her ear, and smiled when she hugged him back and buried her face into his shoulder. And then he laughed.

Mal clamped her lips together, wondering whether she was going to be sick or fall over or scream. None of those things happened, but her eyes filled with tears the longer the two held each other. Emma smiled, and so did Hunter before they disappeared, presumably in the direction of the dance floor.

Together.

Mal stared at nothing. The place where Hunter and Emma had stood lingered in her mind and in the haze of her unfocused vision.

That was a picture of a perfect couple—perfectly situated, perfectly matched, and perfectly superior. That was Hunter’s path, and Mal had been stupid enough to think that the fancy, rich man with the gorgeous looks was serious about the photographer. He must have been bored stiff with no Vanderbilt-cousin fiancée on his arm.

Well, he could have her.

Long enough. It’s over, in the past, and better left there.

The past was here. Hunter, it seemed, was back in it, and happy to be so.

Mal made her way down the stairs, her tears somehow contained, and hesitated between going back to the pavilion to make her excuses to her family or just leaving.

Just then, a slow song started up from the reception, and her mind played out a horrifying scenario of Hunter leading Miss Emma Halliday, the one that got away, the one that still wanted him, onto the dance floor and slowly swaying with her, maybe even dipping his head to kiss her shoulder.

A strangled cry escaped her, and her feet carried her toward the door at the front of the lodge.

“Mal?”

She sobbed low in her throat, her tears welling over, but she stopped at Caroline’s voice.

“Grace came to get me. What’s up?”

Mal shook her head, not turning around.

Caroline moved in front of her, grabbing her arms and peering into her face. “Oh, honey.”

Mal looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears back, but they wouldn’t go.

“Who am I killing, babe? I’m all fired up. Just name the son of a—”

“I can’t.” Mal hiccupped, swiping at her face, her breathing turning frantic. “I can’t . . .”

“Okay,” Caroline soothed, pulling her in for a tight hug that Mal returned, which only made Caroline hold tighter. “Okay. You need to go?”

Mal nodded against her.

“Go,” Caroline urged, pushing back and smiling. “I’ll talk to Mama. We’ll come see you in Denver soon, okay?”

Mal nodded, wiping at her eyes, then handed her camera off. “Can you get the grand finale? You know how to work this?”

Caroline nodded, taking it from her. “Point and shoot, right?”

“It’s a camera, not a Colt .45,” Mal muttered, her chest aching from restraining her cries.

“Same idea,” her cousin said with a wink. She leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Go, Mal. Love you.”

Mal nodded, unable to say anything else, went to the counter to pick up her phone, and left the building. She’d only gone about four feet when she heard her name again, this time from Jenna. She turned and saw the bride coming toward her with a brilliant smile.

“Mal, are you leaving?” Jenna asked, looking concerned.

Mal forced a smile. “Headache,” she said sadly. “I was gonna try to get some sleep before my flight tomorrow.”

Jenna smiled and shook her head. “Silly, you can’t leave without saying goodbye to me.” She hugged Mal tightly. “It means so much to me that you came. It wouldn’t have been the same without you. When we get back, can I come see you?”

“Of course,” Mal choked out. “You can come see the pictures in person.”

Jenna pulled back. “No, silly, I want to see you. Let’s do lunch. Is that okay?”

Mal looked at her cousin for a long moment, considering everything that had changed for her in the last few weeks because of this woman. She’d found her family again, remembered what she had lost, and discovered what her life had been missing that she’d never realized: love.

Maybe this trip wasn’t a total loss after all.

“Yeah,” she squeaked, letting her emotions show. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Jenna grinned, hugged her again, and returned to the reception.

Mal shoved her phone into her handbag, never turning it on, and headed for the carts. Her tears flowed freely, her ribs aching with the need to cry loudly into a pillow, and her fingers twitched sporadically into claws. She needed to get away from this place, from the memories, from him . . . from the entire fantasy she had been living for the past week.

The ridiculous notion that she belonged here.

Or with him.

A kid in a golf cart offered to drive her back to her house, and she let him, unable to keep from watching the lake, where fireworks honoring the bride and groom were being shot off from the tour boat.

How could everything change in an instant? How could Hunter claim to love her and then go back to the woman who’d refused him before?

Easy, she reminded herself. She was his type. Hadn’t Grace said they’d dated off and on before getting serious? It wasn’t hard to go back to someone you once loved so much you were ready to marry them, particularly if you’d never stopped loving them. Especially when she clearly had so much to offer, and was someone he could build his public image around.

Poor gullible Mallory Hudson, thinking Prince Charming actually liked the servant girl.

She had the cart driver wait for her while she dashed into the house and grabbed everything that belonged to her. She wouldn’t put it past Hunter to try to find her, play his part one more time, and she wouldn’t fall into that trap again. Well, she probably would, but then she’d hate herself later and spend too many days on her couch with Fritos and Häagen-Dazs.

Suitcase in hand, she glanced around the tiny cottage once more, a jolt of regret and nostalgia hitting her gut like a ton of bricks. None of it was real. Not this cottage, not this place—nothing. She sniffed back a fresh wave of tears, went back to her buddy in the golf cart, and had him drive her down to the cabin where Taryn and Dan were staying.

She let herself in and set the suitcase in the corner, kicking off her shoes. The house was quiet and dark, which was perfect. She sat down on the couch, hiccupping sobs making their way out of her at last.

A few minutes later, the sliding glass door opened, and a giggling Taryn and Dan entered, both in swimsuits, and kissing each other with far too much familiarity to be drunk. They caught sight of her after a moment and stopped dead, the only sound coming from the water dripping off their hair and bodies.

“Hey,” Mal said simply, her voice raw and filled with tears.

“Hiya, boss,” Dan answered with false innocence.

“Hey, boss,” Taryn replied glumly.

Mal swallowed and gestured between them. “What’s, uh, what’s this?”

Her assistants looked at each other, and Dan shrugged. “Well, after you set us up in your office back in December, we sort of—”

“This has been going on from the beginning?” Mal interrupted, her head spinning with the mess of it all.

They looked uneasy, and both scratched the backs of their heads in synchrony. “We weren’t sure if you had a fraternization policy,” Dan admitted.

“Dan’s a lot better than he looks,” Taryn admitted with a wrinkle of her nose.

Dan snorted and nudged her hip. “Gee, thanks, babe.”

“Shut up. You know you were drooling over Caroline,” Taryn said with a roll of her eyes.

“And you didn’t have every guy here on your drool board?” he shot back.

“Caroline’s got an Aussie rugby player, remember?” Mal managed, their banter too much for her to take right now. “Name’s Ryan, very serious.”

“Shoot,” Dan said, smiling.

Taryn, on the other hand, stared at Mal closely. “Boss? You look like crap.”

Mal tried to laugh, play it off, but her quivering jaw and watering eyes wouldn’t let her. “Can I . . . stay here tonight? And can we leave early?”

Taryn’s brows shot up. “Yeah. Whatever you need. We’re all packed and ready. Do you wanna go now?”

Mal was touched at the offer but shook her head. “No, we need to sleep. No calls, though. I’m not here, you understand?”

They both nodded. “I kind of like not having my phone,” Taryn admitted. “I didn’t even turn it back on.”

“I did,” Dan said, turning a light on. “But I’m not answering it. Are we . . . going to get a certain angry guy banging on our door?”

Mal shrugged and covered her eyes. “I don’t know.” Then she cried, breaking down at last.

Taryn wrapped a towel around her suit and sat down next to Mal, pulling her close and rubbing her arm. “Okay, okay, how about Dan goes and makes us some hot chocolate, huh?”

Dan moved into the kitchen at once, already working on it.

Mal sniffled and shook her head. “I want a shower,” she croaked, getting up. “And then . . . herbal tea.”

She caught the startled look between the two of them but couldn’t bring herself to care. She staggered into the nearest bathroom and stepped out of the dress and into the shower, where her sobs could drown in the streams of water pummeling the tile.

The next morning, after miraculously catching an earlier flight and safely landing in Chicago for a layover, Mal finally turned on her phone.

Five missed calls, two voice mails, and seven missed texts—all from Hunter. Three of the calls, one voice mail, and six texts were from last night.

Hey, you have your phone yet?

You’re not here. Where are you?

Not funny, honey.

Mal, I’m not kidding. Where are you?

Baby, I’m freaking out. I just went to the house, and you’re gone. Where are you?

Pick up your phone or so help me.

And then one from this morning.

I love you.

She swallowed hard while reading them, imagining his face, his smile, his furrowed brow. She could hear him saying those things, the subtle inflections in his tone, the intensity of his words, every nuance as familiar to her as breathing.

Caroline was right; he had worked her over. And done a very thorough job of it.

She glanced over at the Starbucks, where Taryn and Dan were waiting for their orders, and played the first voice mail, closing her eyes.

“Mal, I can’t find you, baby. You disappeared. I need to see you. You’re not answering my texts, and I don’t even know if you’re getting them. Did you leave your phone somewhere again? Did Sophie say something? I’m going crazy, honey. Call me. I love you.”

Mal hit the “Delete” button before she could talk herself out of it.

She stared at her phone, wanting someone to pull it out of her hand and throw it away, wanting to listen to this morning’s voice mail, wanting to never hear his voice again, wanting . . .

“Mallory, it’s five in the morning, and I miss you. I know you’ve already gone to the airport, and as much as I want to, I can’t chase you down. You don’t want that. I don’t know what happened last night or why you didn’t answer me or call me back, and honestly, I don’t care. I love you. Please call me. Bye.”

Mal deleted it too, drained and unable to cry anymore after doing so all night. She leaned her head back against the awkward airport chair and inhaled and exhaled painfully.

“Did you clean the camera that Caroline dropped off?”

“Of course I cleaned it. How much of a novice do you think I am?”

“Did you sniff it first? For that last whiff of her sultry perfume?”

Someone chuckled, and then they stopped.

“How is it possible that you look worse now than you did seven minutes ago?” Dan asked as he sat down on one side of her.

“Are you freaking kidding me, Daniel? Shut up and hand me the muffin.” Taryn reached over Mal and sat down on the other side. “Mal, you turned your phone on, didn’t you?”

Mal swallowed but didn’t answer.

“Where is your phone?” Taryn asked with a sigh. “Where is . . . Oh, I see. Okay, Dan, you’re on phone duty. Turn it off, leave it on, play Angry Birds, I don’t care. But you monitor that thing, and Mal doesn’t get it back unless we trust the person on the other end. Got it?”

“Yep.”

They didn’t say anything for a long time, and Mal had almost dozed off when she heard a phone vibrate. She jerked with a gasp and looked at Dan.

He looked at her phone, then met her eyes and pocketed it.

She groaned and shut her eyes tightly.

“Wanna talk about it yet?” Taryn asked as she sipped her coffee

“No.”

With that one word, the impossible happened. Her eyes filled with tears, and the tightness in her chest broke into a thousand pieces. Taryn put her hand over Mal’s, and Dan put his arm around her shoulder and patted softly.

And together they waited.