My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (12 page)

Everyone not included in the stronghold suddenly needed a special photo taken of their family for Kate and Dalton to know they were all there. Jemma sighed and obliged them all.

Clink-clink-clink!

"May I have your attention, please?" The best man had returned to his spot next to Dalton, lifting his champagne glass for a toast. Jemma walked toward him to find a good angle and lighting. "Dalton Octavius Blackwell has been my friend since grade school."

Jemma's free hand popped to her gaping mouth, fully understanding why he'd never told her what his middle initial stood for.

His best man continued, "We've been through tough times, good times, and even a few fuzzy times together." Laughter erupted throughout the room. "I've witnessed his relationships come and go…"

Looking around the room, most heads turned her way. Curling up in a ball was out of the question, so she straightened her posture and pushed her camera back in front of her face.

Click.

"But, I've never seen him in love. Not like this. Kate is the best thing that's ever happened to Dalton."

The entire crowd uttered 'aw' simultaneously.

"I wish them much luck, much love, and above all, happiness which knows no bounds." He raised his glass in the air, and cheers of "here, here" echoed through the crowd.

Jemma snapped off a picture of the best man drinking to his toast and caught Dalton with yet another tear sliding down his cheek. Her hatred toward him eased slightly, witnessing his obvious regret. Okay, so her hated toward him still burned with the fire of a thousand suns, but at least she didn't feel quite as sorry for Kate.

Jemma scurried over to the cake, taking pictures of the happy couple cutting the bottom layer of the massive, five-storied confection. When they fed each other a small piece, they turned to grin into the camera. Dalton seemed about as sincere as he was capable of.

The lights dimmed. Jemma was grateful for the opportunity to finally blend into the shadows. Soft music filled the room, bringing the crowds chattering to a minimum.

"This first song is for the bride and groom only," the DJ said, his voice smooth and mellow. "Please clear the floor."

Dalton offered a hand to Kate, and she beamed, accepting it. He spun her onto the dance floor and back into his arms. Jemma snapped pictures, her flash breaking through the darkened room, again calling attention to her. The father and daughter dance followed, and Mr. McCallister proudly cut in. After several more pictures, Jemma worked her way out of the crowd. She leaned against the back wall near the punch bowl, blending into the darkest shadows. She felt her body relax for the first time in days.

It was short lived.

Dalton's coarse whisper sliced through her calm. "Hey, man, thanks for the tip. It worked like a charm."

Jemma slid around the side of the pillar, peeking back around to hear the rest of the conversation. She could barely make out Dalton and his best man ladling punch into their glasses.

"No problem," his best man offered, slapping him on the shoulder. "I could tell you needed back in Kate's good graces. Sticking my hand in my pocket and grabbing a couple of short hairs always made my eyes water and got me out of many tight spots with my old lady. I figured it'd work for you, too. Glad I could help."

Blood boiling near stroke level, she carefully planned out her choice words while attempting to calm down. The last thing she needed was a heated screaming match, calling even more attention to her. A bright pink sparkle caught her eye before she could make her move. Craning her neck around the pillar, she saw Stacy peeking through a hall door, waving madly in Dalton's direction. Subtle as a room full of cats in heat, she was dressed in a pink sequined mini skirt. Jemma doubted anyone had ever accused her of being smart
.

"Dude." Dalton's best man elbowed him in the ribs and shoved him in her direction, leaving to mingle with his friends.

She held a lot of power in her hands, literally. Glancing down at her camera cradled in her palms, she released a wicked cackle. The older couple now at the punch bowl formed nervous smiles, slowly backing away from her.

She stayed out of sight, forming herself against the wall until she heard the hall door shut. Slinking quietly along until she hit the doorway, she followed Dalton and Stacy into the abandoned hallway. Jemma kept her hand on the door, letting it slowly close without a sound. At the end of the hall, she watched as Stacy yanked him by the front of his shirt into her arms and attempted to suck the lips from his face. The moment was entirely too good for Jemma to pass up.

Click!

The soft sound filled the quiet hall. Dalton shoved Stacy away, and she stumbled backward, slamming into the wall. They both spun toward Jemma, the source of the sound.

"Jem? Is that
you
?" he asked, his eyes wide as he slowly walked her way.

"Were you expecting your wife instead?" Jemma snorted, stepping from the shadows.

He shook his head emphatically as he shoved Stacy around the corner, out of sight. "Let it go. Showing that picture to Kate won't do anything except hurt people." Walking slowly toward her, he reached for the camera.

She clutched it to her chest with both hands. "Really? That's funny, because I already feel better, and I haven't even printed it yet." Jemma patted her camera and sighed in contentment, playfully batting her eyelashes.

Dalton snarled and stomped the rest of the way, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Listen, we're about to get something straight here."

He dropped his hands abruptly to her elbows, his eyes looking over Jemma's shoulder to somewhere behind her. He pulled Jemma next to him, curling an arm around her waist.

Jemma was stunned, confused about his complete turnaround. "What the…"

He slipped a finger to her lips, his touch soft and gentle, as he trailed his thumb along her jaw line. "This is my wedding day, Jem." He looked deeply into her eyes, the loving gaze she'd seen many times before. "But, if that's what you want, I'll grant you one last kiss." His lips touched hers before she had time to think, his free hand tangled in her hair, keeping her from pulling away. She wedged her hands between them, shoving as hard as she could against his chest, struggling against his kiss. He pressed her so tightly to him that her camera dug into her hip. Finally, he released her.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, trying to wrap her head around the past few minutes.

He glanced past her again, a look of terror morphing his features. "Tony? What are you doing here?"

The whole scene finally clicked into place. Jemma turned around in one slow, deliberate movement. Her stomach clenched, the urge to throw-up almost overpowering her. Mostly from what she was sure Tony thought, but partly due to the fact that she'd let it happen. Well, and the kiss itself. She shuddered.

Tony stood less than three feet from her, his eyes blazing with hurt, his jaw clenched in anger. "Kate's mom tried to tell me…" He paused, eyes searching her face. "Hell, everyone at the wedding knew what was going on, but I couldn't believe it." He paced back and forth between her and the door. Several times his hand touched the handle. His lip twitched, brow furrowed in anger, he drew back and punched the door, leaving an impressive dent. Turning back around, he crept toward her. "Until now, until I saw it with my own eyes. I thought we were starting something different, something special. How could I be this wrong?"

Jemma pled with him, "You weren't wrong about your feelings, just about what is going on here!" Tony's face still held the same hurt, so Jemma pressed on, "There is nothing between me and Dalton. This isn't what it looked like. He's twisting everything out of proportion."

"So you have never dated Dalton?"

"We dated, but…"

Tony snorted in disgust. "And I didn't just walk out here and catch you two kissing?"

"It isn't like that! Please, let me explain." Jemma walked over to him, reaching for his hand, but he yanked it away.

Dalton barged into the conversation. "Jem, you might want to try sounding a little less on the desperate side."

She turned, glaring at him. So much hate, so much loathing, she briefly contemplated her odds in court for manslaughter. "Go to hell, Dalton."

A woman screaming inside the reception turned their attention toward the door. A distant voice trailed into the hallway. "Kate's collapsed. Someone call 911!"

The hate fell from Tony's face, replaced with wide eyed concern. He spun on his heels and ran back into the reception. Dalton, on the other hand, stood smirking at Jemma, hands crossed over his puffed chest.

Jemma snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hey there, slick, I believe they said your wife collapsed. Shouldn't you be in there yanking a few more pubic hairs so you can feign a little concern?" The extreme hatred for him was almost palatable. He didn't flinch; he just continued that creepy smile. "Well?"

"Hmm, first you follow me into the hall; now, I find out you've been listening to my conversations. Seems you really do have unresolved feelings for me." Waggling his well plucked brow, Dalton sauntered casually toward the door to the reception. He stopped and inhaled deeply, rolling his shoulders and tossing his head back and forth a few times. Finally, he swung the door open and yelled, "Dear God, no! Kate, I'm on my way, sweetheart!"

As the door shut, Jemma screamed, "That's it. Tony's
connections
need to be called."

After a few minutes, the shock of the situation wore off and Jemma made her way back into the reception hall. The crowd had thinned considerably, but people still milled around, broken off into groups, chatting. Kate had evidently been taken away already.

She scanned the room for her brother, but he was nowhere to be found. It took Jemma twenty minutes, begging for information on Kate, until she finally found a great-aunt who hadn't heard the gossip about her.

Or, she just plain couldn't hear.

"What happened to Kate?"

The cloudy eyed woman shook her head so hard, Jemma was afraid she'd lose her balance. "No, honey, you don't need to pay. I'm sure the bill is taken care of. I'm glad you're happy too, though. You're a credit to your generation." As she patted Jemma's hand, the woman's bracelets jangled on her boney, liver-spotted arm.

She pointed to her own lips and overstated each syllable. "No, I need to know what happened to Kate, please."

"Oh." The woman's head bobbed in recognition, her eyes even sparkling a bit. "She collapsed. Just fell right over." Her arm shot out toward the dance floor, the skin still flapping long after her arm stopped.

Jemma gently turned the woman's face back toward hers with a finger under her chin. "Do you know where they took her?"

Nodding again, she offered, "St. John's."

Just as the words left her lips, an old man appeared at the woman's side, face scrunched in a scowl. Facing Jemma, but speaking to the woman, he bellowed, "Why on earth are you speaking to this harlot?"

Jemma reached out to pat her on the shoulder and thank her, but the old man swatted her hand away. His arm circled the woman's shoulders, turning her, dragging her across the room.

With the hospital only a few minute's drive from the church, it didn't give her much time to make up a game plan. Honestly, she wasn't even sure she'd be let in to see Kate, or that Kate would be in any condition to talk. The Emergency Room doors swished open. Mikey sat on a bench just inside, head in his hands, staring at the floor.

"Why are
you
here?" Jemma instantly regretted her hateful, snotty tone.

Mikey's eyes squinted in a death glare as he slowly raised his head. "Because I seemed to be the only one concerned for Kate's well being."

"Nobody bothered to call an ambulance?"

"It was taking its own sweet time, so I picked her up and brought her here myself." He popped to his feet, pacing the small area in front of his bench, and ranted, "Do you think they would let me go back with her though? No, I'm not family. Dalton waltzed in here with his trembling bottom lip and announced that he was her husband, and they escorted him right in. I haven't seen or heard anything since."

Jemma hooked her arm through his and eased him back onto the bench with her. She rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to come off so angry. It's just been a screwed up night all the way around."

"You're telling me?" He waved his arm toward the door to the ER rooms. "That prick doesn't deserve to be back there with her. Hell, he doesn't deserve her, period." The pain and concern in Mikey's eyes was deep enough that Jemma could feel it, too.

"There isn't much in this world he
does
deserve," Jemma snorted.

Her brother's eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Other than a good, sound beating." He balled one hand into a fist and slammed it over and over into the open palm of his other hand. "I think I could manage that."

She squeezed her brother's arm. "Don't lower yourself to his level. Dalton will get what's coming to him. What goes around comes around, eventually."

Mikey tossed her a look of complete befuddlement. "What exactly does that mean?"

"What you put out into the world eventually finds its way back to you. If you are nice to others, they'll be nice to you. If you treat people like crap, they will return the favor. Karma, my big brother, can be a wonderful thing, or a horrible curse. It is up to you."

"Whatever you say." Mikey released a huge breath of air and dropped his head back into his hands. "I'd just like to be the one to help Karma out a little in this situation."

"Mr. Keith?" a nurse from the admissions desk called out.

Mikey jumped to his feet and ran to the woman. Jemma followed close behind. "I'm Mr. Keith. Michael Keith."

 "Kate Blackwell…" The nurse paused, checking her computer screen again. "Oh, wait; it's been changed to Kate McCallister on the charts. Anyway, she's asking for you. Will you follow me?"

Without looking back at Jemma, he trailed behind the woman through the ER doors. Jemma walked back to where they'd been sitting and made herself comfortable. All she could do at that point was wait for an update. She leaned her head against the wall. Her last conscious thought was about Tony and whether or not he would show up to check on his cousin.