Have Husband, Need Honeymoon (6 page)

“We do need to do a fitting for your dress,” Alison said. “The alterations may take time.”

“Okay.” Vivica plopped down onto the sofa. “But give me a few minutes. I’m worn-out.”

Alison explained the checklist she used to make certain all the arrangements would be completed on time – the photographer, caterer, florist, reservations for the chapel, the wedding cake, bridesmaids’ dresses, invitations, music.

“You’re a dream,” Vivica said, giving her a hug. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”

“It seems like you have everything under control,” Brady commented. “You’ve turned into quite the businesswoman.”

Alison smiled, obviously picking up on the admiration in his voice. “Thanks. Dad’ll be glad to know college was worth something.”

“Have you started plans of your own with Thomas?” Vivica asked.

Brady tensed, waiting for Alison’s reply. Was she planning a big splashy wedding to Emerson?

Alison blushed. “Did Joe tell you about Thomas?”

“Of course.” Vivica turned to Brady. “Joe and Thomas were college buddies. Thomas actually introduced me to Joe.”

She turned back to Alison, and Brady ground his teeth.
So the four of them were chummy, huh? How nice.

“He shouldn’t have said anything,” Alison stated in a low voice.

Vivica grinned, oblivious to their discomfort. “Even if he hadn’t, Ali, this is Sugar Hill. Proposals and pregnancies are the stuff that keeps the gossip vine alive.”

“You’re pregnant?” Brady asked in a shocked voice.

“No!” Alison screeched. “And I haven’t given Thomas an answer yet, Vivi.”

Mrs. Broussard cleared her throat. “Vivica, honey, if you don’t need me, I’m going to grab Brady and take him to the print shop.”

Brady’s chest tightened. Had he made a mistake by agreeing to help his mother temporarily? She was already dropping hints and pressuring him to stay permanently.

“Vivi, go on into the fitting room and start changing,” Alison suggested. “I’ll help you in a minute.”

Brady’s mother grabbed his arm.

“Mrs. Broussard, I need to discuss some things with Brady before you go. Maybe you can look over the invitation list and see if there are any names we need to add. We should get those printed and in the mail right away.”

“Oh, certainly, dear.”

Brady stiffened, not wanting to resume their earlier conversation about the accident. In fact, he didn’t want to meet with Alison to plan his sister’s wedding at all. Seeing her and not being with her was almost as painful as his throbbing leg. “We could get someone else to take care of the wedding arrangements if this is too uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be silly, Brady.” Alison frowned. “Vivi’s my best friend. I want to help plan her wedding.”

He grimaced inwardly, angry that his hands itched to reach out and touch her. “All right, then.”

She pointed to her desk calendar, a pastel-pink book with an inspirational verse about romance at the top of each page. “My mother wanted us to meet her for lunch tomorrow to discuss the divorce. How about
noon
?”

He adopted his best military expansion. She obviously wanted a quick divorce so she could marry Emerson. “Sure. We should get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

She simply nodded.

Then he turned and walked toward the door, maintaining his rigid posture and gritting his teeth every step of the way.

* * *

Alison folded the underarm seam of Vivica’s wedding gown and pinned it, then proceeded to tuck in the waist. “Brady seems different. Does he ever talk about the accident?”

Vivica shook her head, sucking in her tummy. “No, I wish he would. Frankly, I’m worried about him.”

“I know. He said he’s considering staying here and taking over your father’s business.”

“He what?” Vivica gasped, unintentionally letting out the breath she’d been holding. The fabric slipped and Alison stabbed her finger with the pin.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No big deal. Maybe it’s too tight. We don’t want you passing out halfway down the aisle.”

Vivica laughed. “No, it’s fine. I’m losing five pounds before the ceremony.”

“You don’t need to lose weight,” Alison said with a laugh. “Joe seems perfectly happy with you the way you are.”

“I know he’s wonderful.” Vivica relaxed. “But Brady’s a mess. He can’t stay here and run that print shop. He’ll be miserable.”

Alison tucked in the bodice, forming a small dart to make the bustline fit properly. “I know. All he ever wanted to do was fly. He used to go on and on about it in high school. He even wrote me and told me about how excited he was when he saw his first fighter jet.”

“I think he blames himself for the crash, but I’m not sure why.” Vivi caught Alison’s hand and forced her to meet her gaze. “I was hoping you could get him to talk. You know – open up. You two were always so close, Ali.”

“But he’s different now, Vivi. Distant, closed off.”

“Like he was ever a big talker?”

Alison chuckled. Vivica was right. She knew how stubborn Brady could be. Maybe this month-long wait would be good for both of them. If she got to know him again, she might realize they weren’t compatible anymore and she could finally get over him.

* * *

Brady studied the layout of the print shop and the orders his mother had taken for the day, easily fitting back into the routine of tasks he’d handled as a teenager when he’d helped his father during the summers. Stacks of papers, poster board, an ad layout for the hospital, the copy machines: everything came back to him as if he’d never left the place.

And so did the monotony.

Why had his father given up the Air Force to open this business? And how had he worked here for ten years without losing his mind?

Lack of stress.

Memories of his crash descended upon Brady, and he suddenly realized lack of stress was the reason he was considering staying here and taking over for his mother. If he didn’t have to face flying every day, he might get over his guilt. Guilt that he’d left his mother to run the shop alone after his father had died, while he’d pursued his own dreams. Guilt over his friend’s death. Guilt over not taking leave time when he’d had the chance.

His mother greeted a customer who wanted advertisements printed for the hospital benefit, and Brady busied himself with the smaller jobs, deciding to take the bookkeeping home and review it tonight when he couldn’t sleep.

“Brady, hon, would you run off your sister’s wedding invitations? I’m swamped with this hospital benefit.”

“Sure, Mom.” He gathered the information and began typing it in, grateful his mother had kept up with technology and invested in a good computer system. But while he automatically entered the date and time and place of the wedding, his thoughts turned to Alison and their wedding.

She’d been like a vision standing in the small moonlit chapel wearing her prom dress, a pale blue, silky, off-the-shoulder gown with a thigh-high slit. But it had been the love in her eyes that had totally hypnotized him.

When he’d married her, he’d thought it would be forever, just as he’d thought he would be in the Air Force forever. He’d imagined going overseas for a while, then maybe getting stationed in the States. Finally, after the kids came, he’d settle down and teach other recruits to fly. Maybe teach his own son to fly one day.

He stretched out his hands and stared at the scarred knuckles, trying to imagine them holding on to the controls again. But his pulse raced, sweat broke out on his brow and his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

He couldn’t do it, couldn’t even think about climbing in the cockpit of a plane, much less getting behind the controls and actually flying. He closed his hands into fists, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the images of the explosion. But he could still see the fire licking at the cockpit, shooting from Josh’s clothes, blazing its trail of honor.

No, he’d lost more than his friend in the crash; Brady had lost his will to fly. He had watched all his dreams go up in smoke right along with Josh.

* * *

“Alison, this is Thomas. Can I come over?”

Alison adjusted the phone to her ear as she stared at the hope chest. She’d brought it home and placed it in her bedroom, and had forced herself not to look at the contents again, but she knew what lay inside. The photo of her and Brady on their wedding day. “Not tonight, Thomas, I’m really tired.”
And confused and worried about Brady, the man I’m still married to.

“Is everything all right? You sound kind of strange.”

“I’m fine. I just need some … space. Please try to understand.”

He hesitated, his usual cheery voice resonating with hurt when he spoke again. “All right. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You didn’t, it’s just … I have a lot to think about right now.” Alison closed her eyes and sighed, feeling guilty for hurting him. But she had to be fair to him and to herself, and leading him on certainly wouldn’t be fair.

“Will you call me when you’re ready to talk?”

“Yes, Thomas, and … thanks for being so understanding. You really are wonderful.”

“So are you, Ali. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

She hung up, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom she’d had all day. While she’d worked on the arrangements for Vivica’s wedding, she’d had visions of making wedding plans for herself.

Only Thomas’s face hadn’t appeared in her visions, Brady’s had.

What if she was making a mistake? Letting Thomas go when the only thing left between her and Brady were memories? Was she hoping they might rekindle their love when the embers had died out and been buried in the dust years ago?

Feeling agitated, she went to her wicker desk and pulled out the box of letters Brady had written her. She’d saved every one from college and from his days in flight training. Lying back on her duvet, she turned on the Tiffany lamp her grandmother had given her for her sixteenth birthday, removed the first letter from the rubber band and opened it.

Dear Alison,

It’s
midnight
here and every part of my body hurts, but I couldn’t sleep without writing you about the first day. The training was ten times rougher than football practice. We got up before dawn, worked out like crazy, then ran ten miles with our packs on, all before breakfast. The cots are hard, the lieutenant is a first-class psycho (he made the guy in the bunk next to me do a hundred push-ups just because his damn sheets weren’t tucked in right), and the food stinks, but I saw one of the planes today and my heart just about exploded in my chest. I keep telling myself it’ll all be worth it. One day I’ll be able to fly a fighter jet by myself. Maybe I can borrow a Cessna at the airport in town when I come home and take you for a ride above the lake. We can stop and make love on the shore again, just like on our wedding night.

I hope your dad gets over being pissed off at me and realizes that although I’m in the Air Force, I’m not ever completely going away. Flying has always been in my soul, baby, but you’re in my blood now, too. It doesn’t matter if we’ve got papers or not, you’ll always be my girl. Have sweet dreams thinking about me tonight ‘cause you know I’ll be dreaming about you.

I’ve got your picture here under my pillow. I wish I had your body here, too, so I could run my hands all over you and make you moan and say my name when I give you pleasure.

Love,

Brady

Alison folded the letter and tucked it back inside the envelope, her heart clenching. Flying had always been in his soul, so how could he possibly give it up? And if she’d truly been in his blood, how could he come back and act as if he didn’t care for her anymore?

* * *

Brady finished looking over the bookkeeping, a headache pounding through his brain. His mother was right: the books were a mess. She needed to hire someone to take over the finances right away. Maybe he’d help her find an affordable accountant before he… Before he what? Left town again?

Cursing beneath his breath, Brady poured himself a Scotch and limped to his bedroom, stripped down to his boxers and opened up the balcony doors to let in the fresh night air. Crickets chirped in the woods, a dog howled somewhere in the distance and a breeze stirred the trees, bringing the scent of his mother’s roses. Though ancient trees flanked the backyard of his mother’s house, offering privacy, he looked across the street, over the row of houses to the corner where Alison lived. Vivi had pointed out her apartment when they’d driven into town. It seemed odd that she’d chosen a place so close to his mother’s house. From his two-story balcony, he could actually see a faint light burning from one of her windows. What was she doing? Was she awake? Getting ready for bed?

Did she have company?

Was Emerson touching her, kissing her? Making love to her?

Brady’s hand tightened around the glass as he took a hefty swig, trying to extricate the images from his mind.

Tomorrow he and Alison would meet with her mother to discuss the divorce. Soon Emerson would have free rein, and Brady would have nothing. No legal right to Alison. No right to her at all.

It had to be that way.

He glanced down at his scarred leg, the jagged, puckered skin below his boxers, pink and ugly in the moonlight. Tossing down the rest of the Scotch, he stepped back inside and grabbed his duffel. Unable to help himself, he pulled out the stack of letters Alison had written him over the years. He’d kept them bound with a rubber band and stuffed inside his bag wherever he went.

He thumbed through the stack, recognized the familiar lilac stationery she’d used to write the first letter, then stepped back onto the balcony and read it.

Dear Brady,

I can’t believe you’ve been gone only hours.

I’m already missing you so much I hurt, and I’m so mad at my dad I haven’t spoken to him all night. I wish Hannah and Mimi were here to help me talk some sense into him, to make him realize that I’m not a kid anymore. I’m a grown woman now, your woman, Brady. I love you with all my heart, and I’ll never forget how it felt to have you call me your wife, how it felt to lie naked in your arms and have you make love to me.