Chapter Nineteen
The wedding, once underway, was beautiful, despite the howling winds and off-and-on blinking of the lights inside the tent. It had been helped along by alcohol lubrication during the near hour and a half it took to coax Melody back into bride mode and get her own dress—a pale yellow version of the blue one worn by Taylor and the light green one worn by Evelyn—on and her face made up for the occasion.
Even Trent looked a little better, aided no doubt by the dim lighting in the tent. And when he saw her—the gorgeous Melody in her perfect dress, her hair flowing like an inky waterfall down her back—he lit up in a way that almost made everyone forget the condition of his face.
Brock had elected to keep the restless toddler up at the house for the ceremony, which disappointed her since she hadn’t laid eyes on him once and her need to do that was becoming visceral, like a taste in the back of her throat she wanted to experience. But for now, she was beyond thrilled that this damn wedding was almost over. As her brother and Melody spoke their brief vows, she saw Taylor’s eyes fill with tears, which set her off—something she’d sworn not to do. But the girl had been incredible earlier, convincing Melody that if she didn’t marry her dad, the man would jump off the Mackinac Bridge or something just as dire.
When it came time for the kiss, even Kayla got embarrassed by the enthusiasm of it but joined the crowd cheering for the couple, whose lip-lock was something out of a fairy tale as far as she could tell. Finally, they parted and only had eyes for each other for a few seconds, before turning to the crowd, their faces alight, both sets of eyes bright with emotion. The jolt of jealousy Kayla experienced was eclipsed when Taylor, who’d been standing between her and Melody, gave first her father, then her new stepmother a huge hug and kiss.
The event flipped into a different mode, while half a dozen staff dismantled the chairs and altar, and transformed the now double-sized tent into a spectacular party space. Kayla hugged her brother and Melody then left them to their guests. She’d agreed to help Elle supervise the food table setup, while Ross managed the bar, which kept herself distracted for the next hour and half that she barely noticed Brock’s continued absence.
But once the buffet tables had been cleared of their tapas-style offerings and it was time for the cake-cutting and other silly rituals, Kayla decided she needed a break and headed inside. Half hoping she’d run into Brock and half wanting to lie down and sleep for a few days straight, she trudged up the steps and into the mudroom where they’d had their first moment a few days ago. Now, the room served as a staging area for all the empty wine and beer bottles, and the aroma hit her like a wall of alcohol.
She staggered backward, thinking she might be better off back down in the basement. There were also a couple of bedrooms she could hide in while the party got serious. She heard laughter and music over the still-howling wind and pounding rain. The basement was deserted but for a few of the hired help, cleaning off dishes and stacking them in their cases for return to the rental company. The laughter ramped up, took on a raucous edge, before she heard feminine squeals and various other sounds.
It all made her exhausted. She’d had her fill of family togetherness this last week. She couldn’t wait to get home to her quiet, small space and back to her calm life. As she wandered around the massive space that opened out onto the lawn under the deck and leading to the back of the tent, she even felt a kernel of anticipation over what might happen next with Brock.
As uneasy—as downright terrified—as she was at the thought of taking their incredible kiss to the next level or stage or whatever you called it, she also had to admit that she looked forward to it. Even if it meant awkwardness at first. She was ready to tell him everything. There would be no secrets between them. She would reveal her past as abuse victim, as survivor, and maybe, just maybe, they could craft some kind of an adult relationship out of the ashes of their pasts.
The thought made her grin widen. She touched her fingertips to her lips, reliving last night’s encounter.
A flicker of movement at the tent flap caught her eye. The rain had let up in the last few minutes she’d spent in some weird la-la-land of romantic fantasy so she ducked out from under the deck and walked across the sodden grass, eager to catch up with him. The DJ was getting cranked up. The bouquet had been thrown. The cake had been smashed into faces and now lay cut into dozens of pieces on a side table.
Kayla craned her neck around trying to catch sight of him in the crowd. Finally, she saw little Rose up high, sitting on Brock’s shoulders. She had hold of his hair with one hand and the other thumb jammed into her mouth. She didn’t look like she wanted to party.
“Hey! Brock!” she called out, waving at him. But he must not have heard her because he turned away and headed to a soft seating area in one corner, where Melody perched on Trent’s lap, holding court with friends and family and other guests. Cursing under her breath, she shouldered her way over there, determined to speak to him, to ask if he’d like to get away from this scene for a bit, take a walk or something now that the rain had stopped.
He kept his back to her, talking to Austin and a few other brewery types, while Rose kept a death grip on his hair. Kayla glanced up at her in time to see that her eyes were drooping closed. She reached out and caught the child as she was sliding off Brock’s shoulders.
“Hey,” he said, spinning around.
Kayla held Rose close and smiled at him, until she saw that his face looked even worse than Trent’s. He smiled. Then, as if flipping a switch, he frowned and faced away from her again, as if she weren’t even standing there. Reality rushed back in, filling in all the silly, empty spaces she’d been inhabiting, thinking she’d be allowed to have anything like a normal life, or a normal, healthy adult relationship.
Unable to speak, she backed away, holding the toddler, shaking her head until she headed inside, tears blurring her vision. She heard him calling her as she headed into the basement, but she ignored him, intent on escape, on her own room, her bed, her own solitary life.