Maybe he would tell her off. Maybe he would profess his love again and beg her to be with him. Maybe pretend he didn’t know her. Maybe he would say no.
She knocked once and waited. The door opened. Quinn stood there in all his Quinn-glory. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how good-looking. His hair was too long, his eyes were too blue. He radiated intensity and power.
Her heart cried out to grab him and hold on. Her brain added that might not be such a bad idea. But the fear—oh, how big and powerful it was. The fear made her say, “I’m sorry to bother you, but the woman who was going to perform the ceremony for my mother’s wedding has gone into labor and my backup minister is on vacation in Mexico. I know you’re licensed in the state. Can you fill in?”
She hated how businesslike she sounded. How impersonal. Why couldn’t she be softer? Flirt or something?
“What time?” he asked.
“Five thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
She drew in a breath and tried to think of something to say. Something that would make him smile or laugh or even invite her in. But she couldn’t find any words, and before she could fake it, he closed the door in her face.
Rachel was the tiniest bit spaced out on muscle relaxers, but as she wasn’t driving, she figured that was okay. Yes, she was doing hair and makeup—so there might be a small risk of things going awry. Still, she decided it was better to enjoy the wedding without having to be in pain or worry about her nicely healing back.
She’d done her own fluffing at her place. Sienna was easy—she also did her own makeup, and her short hair didn’t require much. Courtney had taken a bit of time. They’d decided on a sleek, low ponytail and a smoky eye. Her baby sister was getting more beautiful by the day. Now Rachel finished up with her mother and reached for the can of hair spray.
“Are you nervous?” she asked.
Maggie covered her face with her hands as Rachel sprayed her hair. “I’m excited and fluttery, but only in a happy way. I’m so blessed. Neil’s wonderful.”
“He is.”
Rachel finished spraying. “All right, Mom. You’re gorgeous.”
Someone knocked on the bride’s room door. Rachel crossed to it and saw Joyce in the hallway.
“I had to come and see your mother,” she said happily. “Can I come in?”
Maggie rushed to greet her friend and they embraced.
“Are you excited?” Joyce asked.
“Yes. Everything is beautiful.”
“I’m so sorry about the bees.”
“Don’t be. They’re not a problem for me and they’ll be a wonderful story to tell.”
Rachel left the two women talking and retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. She’d done her hair simply—half up, half down with a few curls. She pulled off her yoga pants and T-shirt and put them in her tote, then stepped into the dress.
It fit well, skimming her curves without being so tight that she needed shapewear. Today was officially her cheat day, and she planned to enjoy it.
She checked her makeup, then returned to the bride’s room. Joyce was holding up Maggie’s dress.
“Come on,” the older woman said. “Let’s get you into this.”
They retreated to the bathroom. Rachel started cleaning up her supplies. There was another knock on the bride’s room door.
“Busy place,” she murmured as she went to open it for the second time.
She was surprised to see Greg in the hallway, looking handsome in his medium gray suit and white shirt. He was even wearing a tie. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
“I have to talk to you,” he said, his dark gaze urgent. “Now.”
He took her hand and pulled her out into the corridor, then down the hallway to a door marked Linens. He opened it, drew her inside and then locked the door behind them.
The room was small—maybe ten by ten, lined with shelves filled with stacks of linens. There was a maid’s cart at one end and a big desk at the other.
She looked at her ex. “What’s going on?”
“This.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. No, that was wrong. He claimed her with his mouth, taking everything she had in those few seconds of contact. Heat and need and a deep emotion she was terrified was undying love swelled up inside her. Just when she was about to give in, he drew back.
“We have got to work on our communication skills,” he told her. “Dammit, Rachel, I have been trying to get us back together. I thought you knew that. I thought I made it clear.”
“Well, you didn’t. You weren’t clear at all. You were smug, but not clear.”