The Second Yes Page 26

  At the hotel, Lara realized her phone was gone. She used the room phone, called the diner where she’d last stopped, and they said they’d turned three of them into the police that morning. “People leave them every day. We take ’em in every few days.”

  A call to the station left her frustrated. They’d have to call her back. Could they have a number where she could be reached? “Um, I suppose the hotel room. I’ll be gone most of the time, though.” She rattled off the number.

  “Cellphone?”

  “I don’t—” It occurred to her that it would prove they had it, so Lara rattled off that number. “Of course, you’ll have to answer it yourself—if you have it. That’s why I’m calling.”

  It didn’t bode well for Wisteria’s safety when the officer at the desk said, “Huh?”

  Not the brightest light on the cruiser…

  The clock in her hotel room said the trade show had opened an hour ago. Lara snatched up her denim purse, flung it over one shoulder, and bolted from the room.

  Between demonstrations, meals with industry professionals, and a cook-off between several restaurants, Lara didn’t arrive back at the hotel until after ten o’clock. The business center sat empty, so Lara hurried in to send off a couple of emails to her boss. The one thing she wanted most was the individual table bill wallets where each customer controlled the entire transaction—no more complaints that tip amounts were changed or someone had stolen the number.

  Just as she went to close out, she saw them. Five emails from Preston. The first subject read: Is your phone dead?

  The second: Are you okay?

  Third: Where are you?

  Fourth: Are you avoiding me?

  Fifth: I’m calling the police if I don’t hear from you.

  The contents of each raised her blood pressure just a little more… and a little more… until she heard buzzing in her ears and dizziness overtook her. Lara sat, eyes closed, and wondered what to do.

  He’s probably just worried that something will mess up the wedding. Another thought countered that one. But I told Ty I’d call him and he didn’t leave me threatening emails. Seriously? The police?

  By the time she’d steadied herself enough to make it to her hotel room, Lara had come to a decision. Preston has to agree to couples counseling at the dress reveal, or I postpone the wedding there and then. Her conscience said it wasn’t fair to spring it on him last minute like that.

  “Fine. I’ll do it now.”

  And before she could talk herself out of it, Lara stormed back down to the business center. A man sat there, scrolling through Facebook as if it held the answers to life’s problems. He nodded. She gave a weak smile and sat down at the computer next to him.

  In seconds, she’d logged into her account, pulled up a new email, and began typing.

  Subject: Cease and desist.

  It might not have been fair or kind, but Lara didn’t care.

  Dear Preston,

  I’ve lost my phone. I’ll pick it up on the way back home, but until then, I have no reasonable way to communicate except for the business center here at the hotel. This means I will NOT be responding to your repeated demands for my time. Seriously, Preston, reread your emails. Where’s the trust and care that you had when you asked me to marry you?

  Here’s the thing. I’m concerned about this—enough that I need to do something I hate. But it’s important. So listen. Because I’m totally serious.

  You need to send back an email with the subject line that reads “I agree” or that’s it. I’m postponing the wedding.

  This is what you need to agree to: semi-weekly counseling sessions for us during the first six months, at least, of our marriage. I’ll go to David Clary if that’s what you want. Ty would be my preference, but we can go somewhere neutral, too. I know Ty has lots of contacts.

  I mean it, Preston. Without that agreement, I will call off the wedding last minute.

  Love,

  Lara

  A weight she hadn’t realized she carried dropped and crushed her toes, but her arms felt lighter than they had in weeks. She logged out, hopped up, and bolted for the door. “Have a great night!”

  Only a mumble followed her out the door.

  Once back in her room, it occurred to her that she should have sent Preston an email about it, but just the thought of any other contact sent the weight crushing back on her. Is this why I had to come, Lord? Did I need this chance to get away and breathe before I do this?

  On Wednesday, after meeting Lara’s family, Ty came to another decision. The St. James dress was out of the picture. Period. Even if she went ahead with the wedding, it needed to be in her dress.

  She’ll lose all autonomy in her marriage if she doesn’t start off making her own decisions.

  That left one option. He had to take the other dress and hide it. While Lara’s family wandered down to the Jumping Pig for dinner with the Kinsey girls, Ty drove to Lara’s parking stall behind The Birches and crept around the streets to the courtyard of Brenna and Lauren’s upstairs apartment.

  Black trash bag in hand, he tried the door and thanked the Lord for the girls’ lack of personal safety. His conscience protested each step inside a house he hadn’t been invited into. It further objected to him rifling through closets until he found the dress hanging in Brenna’s closet. It had to be Brenna’s. Lauren didn’t wear simple skirts, sweaters, blouses, and cardigans.

  He stuffed the dress in the trash bag and prayed a few wrinkles wouldn’t destroy a family heirloom. Against everything he’d ever taught kids in any Sunday school class he’d ever taught, Ty then prayed that he’d make it out of the apartment without being seen. Because it makes sense to ask the Lord to help you sin…

  By Thursday night, after the rehearsal and a rehearsal dinner that did nothing but make Lara’s family feel like outcasts, Ty’s guilt over his behavior evaporated. Each decision felt more justified than the last, and late-night emails from Lara only solidified his opinions.

  Thirty-two emails, in fact. Thirty-one of them from Preston to Lara and forwarded to him. Her email tore at his heart.

  Subject: Sending you a bunch of emails

  Dear Ty,

  Wish you were here to help me make sense of all this and keep me from overreacting. I sent Preston an ultimatum on Monday night. I told him if I didn’t get an email back saying that he agreed to six months of couples counseling, I would postpone the wedding.

  I didn’t tell him I was starting to think “indefinitely.”

  There, Ty cheered. He jumped from his chair and did a touchdown dance that any NFL player would envy—the closest he’d ever come to scoring anything in an athletic game. Eager, he went back to the email and scrolled down to read the next words.

  His heart sank.

  I couldn’t believe it when Preston’s reply came agreeing to it. He said anyone but you, which almost made me want to insist on you. But that wouldn’t be right. So I didn’t.

  Then I got these emails all week—even when he knew I didn’t have a phone to read them, and I have to go to the business center to do it.

  Ty, this week without him blowing up my phone with a million texts has been heavenly. I used to look forward to his sweet little, “How are you doing?” texts. Now, if I don’t respond in two minutes, he’s freaking out on me.

  What do you think?

  Can you come see me before the ceremony tomorrow? I need someone to help me work through this before I go off for a couple of weeks with him. Can you imagine coming home after that much constant companionship? He’ll freak out if I’m five minutes late getting home after work!

  Save me, Ty. Help me. I’m so confused.

  Love,

  Lara

  Ty glanced over at the tuxedo he’d rented hanging on the inside of his open closet door. I’ll send back an email outlining it all. If she doesn’t get it in time, I guess I’ll confess it all tomorrow, Lord. Then I’ll leave it in Your hands. Even if she’s not for me, please help her see that
, if Preston is the man for her, he’s not ready yet.

  He swallowed hard and punched off the monitor. Please.

  The sight of Preston’s car as Lara bolted past the chapel and to the classrooms where the bridal party had been set up to get dressed sent butterflies through her stomach. The only problem was that they felt more like the kind she’d gotten waiting in the principal’s office after throwing her drink in Derek Knight’s lap than because she was so excited to see him.

  Her more rational self argued. “It’s just nerves.”

  Lauren and Brenna met her at the door. Lauren took her purse and asked if her phone was in it. “I have your charger plugged in and ready.”

  “You are my favorite.”

  The girl gave her a sly smile. “Maybe… but I’ll get replaced soon enough.”

  Even Brenna shot her an odd look. “What are you talking about?”

  Lauren jerked her head left. Lara followed the motion and gasped. There, hanging over the supply closet door, was her dress—the one she’d chosen. “How—wha—? Did Preston—?”

  Brenna said, “He must have.”

  But Lauren protested. “Not hardly.”

  Lara had to agree that it wasn’t likely. “Where’s the St. James dress?”

  Both Kinsey girls shrugged. Brenna reached for the hanger. “I freaked out when it was gone, but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Then I showed up and saw that hanging and assumed you knew about it.” She stepped closer. “You really didn’t?”

  “Nope.” Lara grabbed her tote bag and began changing into her undergarments. “I’m so dead if anything happened to that dress.”

  A knock at the door sent Lauren flying. She barely opened it enough to let one pupil peer through before pushing it shut. “You can’t come in yet.”

  Muffled but distinctive, Ty’s voice came through. “Can someone come get me the minute Lara can see me? It’s important. Actually, wait. Did she get my email?”

  She shot Lauren a confused look. Lauren answered in the negative. “Should she—?”

  “No, I’ll come back in… ten minutes?”

  Lara nodded. “We talked about this. I need counsel. Tell him to come back in fifteen minutes. We’ll at least have the dress on by then.”

  “Thirty,” Brenna insisted. “Let’s get your hair up, too.”

  Lauren poked her head out. “Come back in forty-five minutes.”

  A shout of protest came from both Lara and Ty, but the girl remained obdurate. “You need to be ready. Then you can take all the time you need without worrying about it.”

  As right as the girl was, Lara spent every minute of the next forty-five fidgeting. Only her mascara remained when the knock came again. “I’ll get it. Let him in, will you?”

  Lauren shook her head. “You won’t get it. If you drop that wand, the dress is ruined. Brenna will do it with that sheet right where it is…”

  Brenna exited a minute later, and Lara turned to greet Ty. His eyes widened, and he froze in the middle of the room. “Wow… I knew you were gorgeous, but wow.”

  “It’s my dress, Ty. I don’t know what happened. And the St. James dress is gone and—”

  “Deep breath…” He took her hands, gazed down at her, smiled. “I wanted you to have options… for your wedding. You haven’t had a single thing that was what you wanted. So, I ordered your bouquet—it’s in the closet on the shelf in there, and I had London in Crossroads send your dress.”

  “London—this?”

  “Funny story there. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime. She really had fun with it.”

  “She bought the dress for me?” His inability to meet her gaze explained it all. “No, you did.” Lara’s heart cried out, Why couldn’t Preston be like that?

  Butterflies danced again, but this time in all the right ways as he said, “Love that dress, by the way. But I was wrong. You had the right to have whatever dress you chose. I did the same thing Preston did but in reverse. I’m sorry. I’ll go get the St. James dress if you want me to.”

  Three things hit her hard with those words. She did not want to wear the other dress, she did not want Preston to see her before she walked down the aisle in something other than the St. James dress, and there was something terribly wrong with that thought process. Lara chose to begin with the obvious. “Will you tell Preston I’ve decided against the reveal?

  “I’ll be back in just two minutes,” Ty promised. “Then we’ll go over a few things, okay?”

  She nodded. At the door, he lingered, gazing back at her with… well, something more than appreciation for the dress he’d purchased. Again, her stomach fluttered and then began somersaults. If this weren’t my wedding day, I’d swear Ty caused it instead of nerves.

  That thought shifted as she recalled the look in his eyes. Lara glanced back at the door, but Ty was gone. Lord, did I rush this relationship? We have so many problems, and every time we do, I compare him with Ty. She derailed that train of thought and exploded it just to be sure it didn’t go any further. I’m just nervous. That’s all. I’m overthinking everything.

  If he hadn’t been convinced by everyone connected to Preston that the man had not hurt his beloved Monica, the stony, hard look the man gave him as he delivered the news that the reveal moment had been canceled would have convinced Ty that Preston was the man.

  I wish Frome wouldn’t give up on that case. I’d really like to know who killed Monica and why. Ty swallowed hard. I’d really like to know for certain it wasn’t Preston, and the only way to know that is for me to know who did.

  He hurried back to the bride’s room and knocked. “Lara?”

  She stood before the giant mirror they’d hung just for this purpose and fussed with a long comb of tulle at the back of her head. “I should have had you send Brenna. I’ll never get this in right.”

  Why he thought he could help, Ty didn’t know. But he stepped forward and took it from her hands. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll try.”

  As he fussed, Ty began again with an apology. “I owe you so many of them, actually. First, I was wrong not to admonish you to consider that marriage to Preston is unequally yoking yourself to another believer. Your faiths do not mesh. Your children will be confused and torn. Please forgive me for being more concerned about you not being upset with me than I was for your spiritual choices.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I mean, salvation issues—that’s what everyone says is important. And I really thought we’d go to both churches if it came down to that, but…”

  He could only guess what that “but” was. “But?”

  “He won’t. I know that now. He’s fixated on what he thinks is right and won’t deviate. I guess that’s good but…”

  “Not if he promised to do one thing and then doesn’t.” Ty sighed. “And that’s not all, unfortunately. Between the emails you sent, and what I’d begun to see, I did some research… and then researched some more.”

  He pulled out a printed picture of the engagement picture from the paper and unfolded it. “Do you recognize either of them?”

  “Well, that’s Preston, and she looks…” Lara leaned closer. “Almost like me. She’s prettier, though—gorgeous, really. Who—?” All color drained from her face until Lara looked like she’d tried out for a zombie bride movie. “Oh…”

  “Have you ever heard of Monica?”

  Shock brought the color back and then some. “No… not really. Just the name once.”

  One by one, Ty brought up everything. From the purse to the ring, everything. “I even found out this morning that Monica hated English roses and white roses. You chose—”

  “Both.” She shook her head. “It’s so creepy. Is Preston a creep?”

  “No one who knows him thinks so. I don’t, either. He’s still grieving, though. He needs help. When I talked to the grandmother, it seemed like she did, too. She hated Monica.”

  “What?” Lara spun, and her veil swooped around her like frosting on a cake.

 
It felt like the proverbial salt in the wound, but he told her about the depth of the grandmother’s hatred of Monica, the way the wedding had been canceled, everything. Lara just stared. “I was just a replacement.”

  Throat aching, Ty nodded. “You deserve to be a man’s first choice. At the very least, I hope you will reconsider.”

  She paced. Three steps forward, three steps back. Her skirts becoming more twisted with each pass. “All these people. He’ll be so embarrassed. But…”

  Here goes everything. Ty stopped the pacing and took her hands. “There’s something else you should know.”

  “I don’t think I can take anymore.”

  “You can’t be blind to the fact that I love you… can you?”

  “I—”

  Ty shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Ignore that. The rest of it is that I want to marry you. Today, six months, a year, two—whatever. We can do all the things however and whenever you want, but I know for sure you’re the one for me.”

  She gaped at him, a most unflattering expression. “Did you really say today?”

  “Everything’s ready. I’d love to marry you right now. Today. We have guests, a preacher, my tux is in the other room if you say yes. We can start a life today if you want. Or, if it’s too soon—”

  “Way too soon.”

  Disappointed, but not surprised, Ty assured her that he understood. “We can talk about it later.”

  “You’re right, though. I have to cancel the wedding. Should I talk to him here or…?” She shook her head and waved her hands as if warding off the bad guy in a horror movie.

  “Usually, I would say it’s best for one party to speak directly to the other, but I don’t trust Preston’s reaction.”

  Relief filled him when she nodded her agreement. “I’ll go let Preston know, give him a chance to leave, and then tell everyone else that the wedding has been canceled. Just stay put. It’s almost over.”