Happy Ever After
Page 52

Everything seemed paused for change, but was she? Change was as much about loss as gain, about giving something up even as you reached for something new or different. And, she admitted, she prized routine, tradition, even repetition.
Routine equaled security, safety, stability. While the unknown often grew on shaky ground.
And that, she realized, was a line of thinking as gloomy as the sky. The world was opening up, she reminded herself, not closing in. She’d never been a coward, never been afraid to take those steps onto unsettled ground.
Life changed, and it should. Her three closest friends were getting married, starting new phases of their lives. One day, she imagined, there would be children tumbling like those colorful leaves on the lawn.That’s how it should be.
That’s what home was for.
Their business was expanding. And if after the meeting they were in agreement, it would expand again, in new, uncharted areas.
Then there was Malcolm—and that, she had to admit, was the crux of this nervy, unsettled feeling. God knew he was a change. She couldn’t decide if he’d just slid cagily, craftily into her life or kicked open doors she’d thought she’d cautiously bolted.
Most days, she thought, it seemed to be a combination of both.
However he’d gotten in, she still couldn’t quite figure out what to expect from him. An attentive lover, then a wildly demanding one; an amusing companion, then one who peppered her with questions that pushed her to think both inside and outside the box.The risk-taker, the devoted son, the bad boy, the shrewd businessman.
He had all those facets, and she felt she’d barely touched the surface.
She appreciated his innate curiosity, and the skill he possessed in digging out information, histories, connections. He ended up, she’d come to realize, learning a great deal about other people.
And was frustratingly stingy with personal data.
Most of what she knew of his history came from other sources. He had a way of skirting around the edges whenever she asked a question about his childhood, his early time in California, even his recovery from the accident that had brought him home again.
If their relationship had stayed a surface one, the reticence wouldn’t matter. But it hadn’t, Parker thought, so it did. It mattered because she’d gone past interest, swung into attraction, burst through lust, tripped over affection, and was now skidding out of control into love.
And she wasn’t altogether happy about it.
The rain began in thin, spitting drops as Laurel came in with a big tray.
“If we’re going to have a meeting this time of day, we might as well eat.” She cast Parker a look as she set the tray down. “Don’t you look pensive and perturbed.”
“Maybe I’m just hungry.”
“That we can fix. We’ve got some very pretty, girlie sandwiches, seasonal fruit, celery and carrot straws, kettle chips, and petit fours.”
“That ought to do it.”
“It’s nice.” Laurel crunched on a chip. “A fire on a rainy afternoon. Nice, too, to get off my feet for a while.” She opted for tea, then sat. “What’s up?”
“A couple of things.”
“A couple of things like here’s what’s up, or a couple of things like here’s a deal, let’s discuss it into many pieces?”
“I think the latter.”
“Then I need a sandwich.”
Mac and Emma walked in together as Laurel loaded a plate.
“So, we’d pick that up with the mini mango callas for the boutonnieres,” Mac said, obviously continuing a conversation. “And you’d, like, pop them out in the bouquets and arrangements. All mixed in, but popped.”
“Exactly.”
“I think I like that the best. I’m consulting with my wedding florist,” she told Parker and Laurel. “I believe she’s brilliant.”
“I completely am. Oh, pretty sandwiches.”
“I’m also brilliant,” Laurel reminded her. “If you’re still in florist mode, Em, I’ve been thinking of going with cool colors. Sherberty.”
“Don’t make me wear raspberry.” Mac tugged her bright red hair.
“I could, I could make you, but besides brilliant I’m also kind. I was thinking lemony. All three of you would look good in really pale lemon. Maybe chiffon. It’s kind of clichéd maybe. Lemon chiffon, summer wedding, but—”
“It’s good. And I can really work with a pale lemon,” Emma speculated. “Using zaps of bold blues, trails of minty greens. Keeping it all soft, but saturated, with unexpected snaps of deeper colors.”
“I want to get your engagement shots in the next week,” Mac said to Laurel.
“We haven’t decided exactly what we want there.”
“I have.” Mac bit down on a carrot straw. “In the kitchen.”
Instantly Laurel moved to sulk mode. “Talk about clichés.”
Mac just pointed with her carrot. “The counter heaped with gorgeous pastries, cakes, cookies, with you and Del in front of it. I want him sitting on a stool, and you wearing your baker’s apron and cap.”
And the sulk deepened. “Well, aren’t I glamorous?”
“What you’ll be when I’m done with you, ye of no faith whatsoever, will be sexy, adorable, cheeky, and unique.”
“She was right about doing Jack’s and mine in the garden,” Emma pointed out. “We looked gorgeous, and hot.”
“Also brilliant, but it did help that you’re both already gorgeous and hot. So.” Mac dropped into a seat. “What’s the what for?” Her eyebrows lifted as she glanced at Parker, saw her friend grinning. “And what’s that for?”
“It’s fun, it’s just fun to listen to all you talk about wedding plans.Your own wedding plans. Mac, I’ve asked Monica and Susan from the bridal shop to stand in for me—pinch running, we’ll say—on your day. They’re smart, experienced, capable. And if there’s anything that needs to be dealt with during the ceremony, I won’t have to excuse myself and bolt.”
“That’s really good thinking.”
“Which makes us four for four in brilliance.They’ll also help with guests while we’re up in the Bride’s Suite. Emma, I know you have a team, but—”
“Right there with you,” Emma interrupted. “I won’t be as available for the setup, and we won’t be able to draft Carter or Del or Jack. I’ve got two florists I’m going to work with on a couple of the upcoming events. And if they’re as good as I think, they’ll work with my regular team for Mac’s. We’re going to need extra and experienced hands for the Seaman wedding in April—and for mine, for Laurel’s.”