Keep It Together

KEEP IT TOGETHER

Lissa Matthews

www.loose-id.com

Keep It Together

Copyright © April 2013 by Lissa Matthews

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eISBN 9781623003333

Editor: Jana Armstrong

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Published in the United States of America

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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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* * * *

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Prologue

Six months earlier…

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Chrissie asked. The calm inquiry belied how she really felt, but they were in a church, and it was her wedding day, and her mother would flip her shit if Chrissie lost her cool. Not that her mother would ever cop to the phrase
flip her shit
, but Chrissie knew that was the best wording for the fit her mother would throw if Chrissie threw one.

Hers would consist of screaming, hollering, and making threats of bodily harm. Not her body. His. Russell’s. Her wayward groom.

Only she wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t there. Not really. She understood that she should’ve been. He was her fiancé, and they were supposed to be getting married, right now, but something about him not showing up didn’t affect her the way it should have. She was pissed off, she was hurt, and she’d even go so far as to say she was heartbroken, but shouldn’t she be devastated? Shouldn’t her world be coming to an end? But she didn’t feel those things, and that set the warning bells off in her head. That she’d expected this, on whatever subconscious level, was what pissed her off the most.

Amber, the messenger bridesmaid and the groom’s half sister, lowered her gaze to the floor. She was also shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Gone for a moment was the brilliant, put-together businesswoman. That wasn’t a good sign. Russ’s opinion of Amber was that she was unshakable, at least in the boardroom. Maybe when dealing with personal matters she wasn’t as calm. Chrissie could relate.

“He…” Amber hesitated for a moment, but then shook her head and looked Chrissie in the eyes. “Colt is looking for him.”

Colt was Russell’s older half brother. Chrissie had only met him a handful of times, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere close to irresponsible, so losing Russ was likely not what happened at all. “Wasn’t he with Colt last night? How could one brother lose another?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll show up. He probably just slept late. He—”

Chrissie nodded and patted Amber’s hand, more because she needed to do something with her own hand than for Amber’s reassurance. Chrissie felt a little brittle and figured that if she reached out to someone else who was having trouble with this, she’d be able to hold herself together for a while longer. “I’m sure he didn’t just sleep late, but we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.” She didn’t even try to muster up a smile. She didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t feel like being reassured, and she didn’t feel like doing the reassuring. She didn’t know Amber all that well but from the few times they’d met had gotten the impression the woman was a straight shooter. “Even though he should have been here an hour ago.”

Amber nodded. “I know.”

Chrissie stood from the vanity chair and took her new friend and almost sister-in-law into her arms. Amber hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d just had the unfortunate job of going in search of her brothers and having to return with the not-so-great news. “I’m not mad. Not at you, at least. Russ is another story.”

“Christina?”

The decisive sound of her mother’s voice forced Chrissie’s spine straight, and her heart filled with dread. She let go of Amber and turned toward the door of the bridal suite.

The First Baptist Church was the largest in town and not only had a bridal suite, but also a groom’s suite. The old chapel where weddings were held had been completely renovated to accommodate any size wedding party. The church even employed a full wedding planning staff. It was incredible. Expensive but incredible.

When she and Russ had announced their engagement, her mother had insisted the wedding be held at the First Baptist Church. Once that had been agreed upon, even under duress, her mother and the wedding planning committee had taken over.

To be honest, that had been fine with Chrissie. She wasn’t much for pomp and circumstance, for big shows for society, for being the center of a lot of attention. She wasn’t much for frills, ruffles, lace, or anything even remotely close to feminine.

Yet there she was, standing in the bridal suite, in a beautiful gown of lace and satin, looking across the room at her mother’s stern, unsmiling face. “Yes, Mama?” she responded as contritely and demurely as she could. She didn’t feel either way, but she made her best attempt to at least give the outward appearance.

“It’s time we made a statement to your guests.”

Chrissie bit down on her tongue and counted to ten before she spoke. It wasn’t the time or place for her sarcastic self to step into the limelight. “What type of statement would you like us to make, Mama?” She wanted to applaud herself. She was being jilted, left at the altar, and she was struggling to hold herself together. The hurt was trying to bubble up, and she couldn’t let it yet. The pissed off was trying too, but she was keeping a lid on that as well.

There would be a time and place for her to let both emotions loose to run free and unencumbered by a church, a whole town, and a few small-time reporters. Being the mayor’s daughter carried with it a modicum of duty-bound dignity and poise.

“Russell will not be coming to marry you today.”

Chrissie bit down on more than her tongue at those words. “Has someone heard from him? Is he all right? Do we need to postpone?” She knew the answers to her own questions, especially the last one. Something had been nagging at her all week, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on what it was. Every time she brought it up to her mother, the older woman had remarked that it was nothing more than nerves and cold feet. Chrissie knew it had been more than that, that the source of her unease hadn’t been coming from herself but rather from Russ. Even when she’d brought it up to him, he’d shushed her. He’d been as bad as her mother with the placating. Now she knew why she’d been feeling all that uncertainty. He never meant to go through with it.

In that moment, she’d have given anything to be able to get her hands on that new Remington her daddy had given her as a wedding present.

“I don’t know, but the time for answers will come later. All that matters right now is that we present a calm and collected face to your guests. They deserve to be given some kind of an explanation and sent home with a good, positive feeling that this is for the best. We’ll be returning the gifts first thing on Monday.”

“Calm. An explanation. Positive feelings.” Chrissie repeated those words to herself several times, hoping that for once she could be like her mother in a crisis. Myrtice Browning was all those things and more. Chrissie, on the other hand, was fly-off-the-handle, kick some ass, and get all kinds of dramatic. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t think I can do that.”

“There is no think, Christina. There is only do, and that is what
you
will do. That is what all of us will do. Is that clear? You will not embarrass yourself or this family. You will also need to return his ring.”

“Like hell I will,” she muttered under her breath. It would serve him right if she hocked it and went on their honeymoon alone and spent all the money on herself. She wouldn’t do that, though. She would return the ring. It had belonged to his mother, but the thought of returning it to Russ left a bad taste in her mouth. She wanted to hold on to it out of spite. Just, at the moment… No.

“Mind your tongue, young lady. You’re in the house of God. You
will
return the ring to Russell, and in time we will forget this whole debacle. Now,” Myrtice said, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in her midnight-blue silk mother-of-the-bride gown, “I will expect to see you in the chapel in five minutes. Pull yourself together, Christina.”

* * * *

The sunshine streaming in through the windows seemed a little out of place to Chrissie’s way of thinking. It should be dark and overcast with thunder rumbling in the distance. That would fit her mood better than birds chirping and clear skies and bright sunlight.

There shouldn’t be someone knocking on the door either. It was only fuck-you-o’clock in the morning. Didn’t whoever it was know she’d been jilted at the altar? ’Cause her whole damn hometown of Pembroke, Georgia, a mere thirty miles to the west of Savannah, had been invited and had been there to witness her humiliation when her groom decided not to show up.

She fumbled with the locks, and for good scare-the-shit-out-of-her-unwanted-guest measure, grabbed up her brand-new rifle, and threw open the front door. She barely stopped it from banging against the wall and shattering the leaded glass front. “Damn it’s cold out here,” she muttered, shielding her eyes from the early morning light.

“Good morning, Chrissie.”

Her visitor was in shadow, and she had to move to the left a little to get a better look at him, though she’d have known that voice anywhere. It was deep and warm, smooth like molasses. The first time she heard it, and each time after, her brain had latched on and committed it to memory. It flowed and caressed and wrapped her in comfort.

Colt Fisher was the last person she’d expected to show up at her door. And that little thrill spreading through her at the fact that he was there? It was inappropriate, and for the moment, she was going to chalk it up to the whiskey still affecting her. “Colt? Do you know what time it is? What the hell are you doing here? How’d you know where to find me? I’m mad at you.”

He nodded. There wasn’t a hint of his usual easy smile on his way-too-perfect lips, and she felt bad about her outburst. She— Wait. Too perfect lips? Why was she looking at his lips anyway? That little thrill was growing.

“Yeah. I do know what time it is, and I apologize for waking you so early. I‘m on my way to the airport and… Well, I was concerned for you. I dropped by your parents’ house in Pembroke last night to talk to you, and they said you’d come back here to Savannah. I didn’t even know you lived here. It was important to me to see you and make sure you were all right. When you left the church yesterday, you looked…I don’t know, brittle I guess. And yes, I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be.”

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? “My place is a bit far from the airport,” she remarked, touched that he would go out of his way like that for her. They had almost been family, and standing there on her porch, she realized they hadn’t known each other as well as they should have for the commitment she’d almost made to his brother.