Daughters Of The Bride(133)
“What was with all that crap?” she demanded. “Hanging out here, acting as if you cared about me? Saying all those things about learning your lesson? It was all just lies.”
For one brief second, she hoped he would pull her close and say, “Of course not, Rachel. I’ve loved you forever.” Which didn’t happen. Not even close.
He leaned toward her, his dark eyes bright with anger. “It wasn’t crap. I was working the program, Rachel, even though you don’t make it easy. If anyone has a beef here, it’s me. You’re the one who played me.”
“I didn’t. You started this and now you’re going to twist it around? That is so like you. Well, fine. You got your wish. You hurt me. I’m hurt. Are you happy? I hope it was worth it, because know this. I will never make things easy for you again.”
He took a step back and stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Hurt you? That’s not possible. That would require you to give a shit, which you obviously don’t. So no, I didn’t hurt you.”
What was he talking about? “You did. You’re moving out of your parents’ house. You’re getting your own place. This summer was just a prank. You were doing everything you could to show me you still cared about me. About us. You swore you were a changed man, but you’re not.”
“What do you expect me to do?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “You made your feelings very clear the other day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You called me last!” he yelled. “You hurt your back and you needed help and you called me last. You made sure you told me, too, so I would know just how unimportant I am to you.”
She felt like a cartoon character—the one whose jaw drops to the ground, then stays there. “What are you talking about?”
He turned and walked away three or four steps before facing her. “Do you think I’ve liked living with my parents? I don’t. I’m nearly thirty-six. I feel like a fool. But I did it to save money. Because I kept thinking we would find our way back to each other. I wanted to help pay off the house and have enough left over so that you could cut back on your hours and we could have another baby. That’s what I’ve been doing all summer. Trying to prove myself to you. But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not interested.”
Her brain had fainted or something, because she couldn’t think. “You want us to get back together and have more kids?”
“I thought it was a possibility. Because I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You called me last.” He glared at her as he spoke. “You were hurt and desperate and you called everyone you knew first and then you called me. If you cared about me, if you trusted me and needed me, you would have called me first.”
“You were at work. I didn’t want to bother you at the station. If you’d been home, I would have called you first. I was being nice!”
“No. Admit it. You don’t care at all.”
Her anger returned. “You don’t get to speak for me,” she told him. “You don’t get to say what I want or don’t want. You don’t get to say what I was thinking. That’s my right. That’s for me. And even though it doesn’t matter at all, I do care. A lot. So there.”
She got back in her SUV and started the engine. She was shaking so hard, she could barely drive, but there was no way she was staying.
She made it back to the salon in plenty of time for her appointment. She drank water, took her over-the-counter anti-inflammatory and then reviewed her schedule for the rest of the day.
She’d made her point and Greg had made his. The thing was, she didn’t know what either of them was going to do with the information.
Courtney didn’t expect to sleep the night before her mother’s wedding. She assumed she would lie in bed, going over the thousands of details she had to take care of in the morning. So she was surprised to open her eyes and find out that the sun was up and it was already after six.
She stretched and sat up. Physically she felt pretty good. Rested and determined to make this wedding the best it could be. From the pink champagne to the kazoos Neil had bought.
Judging by the sunshine flowing through her window, the weather wasn’t going to be a problem. Check. As soon as she was dressed, she would follow up on everything else.
But before she could duck into her tiny bathroom, someone knocked on her door. No, not knocked. Pounded.
“Courtney, get up! You have to come quickly.”
She pulled open her door and saw her friend Kelly standing in the hallway. “It’s six in the morning on a Saturday,” she said in a low voice as she pulled her friend into the room. “You’ll wake the other guests.”