My Ex-Boyfriend's Wedding (3 page)

"What you're hearing is sarcasm. And, you seriously think that would bother me?" she barked.

He laughed. "I believe your angry tone says it all."

"I don't have any problems seeing you get married. I might feel a little pity for your bride, but that's on her."

"Uh-huh, sure," he mocked.

"And as a double bonus, I'll be making money off of your sorry ass. I'll see you on your big day." She swiped the phone off, really wishing it was an old school landline she could slam down in his ear.

With shaky hands, she slipped her phone into the side pocket of her purse then fished through the main compartment for her worn, well cared for, planner.

"Let's leave this to chance, shall we? If by some miracle the date is open, I'll call Mr. McCallister back. If not…" she muttered to herself as she flipped the thick book open, pushing past loose notes and reminders until she found June third. She stared at the date, remembering now the call a month back from a bride who'd cancelled her June third wedding. Leaving Jemma wide open.

She pulled her phone back out and hit redial on the missed call. She battled the conflicting thoughts, waffling between what-the-hell-am-I-doing and take-
that
-Dumbass-Dalton, including every gray shade in between. 

After getting clearance through his secretary, Mr. McCallister answered. "Ms. Keith, does this mean you have an opening?"

What the hell am I doing?

She inhaled a deep breath. "Yes, I had a cancellation for that date."

"It must be fate," he said, relief wavering in his voice.

Fate? Or punishment for everything she'd ever done wrong in her life?

Mr. McCallister proceeded to tell her what he was willing to pay for the last minute inconvenience.

Take
that
, Dumbass Dalton! And
hello
new camera and printer.

"
Really?" she muttered, regaining her composure. "How could I turn down an offer like that?"

"Exactly what I was going for," he chuckled.

Switching back into professional mode, she said, "If you could give me the bride's phone number, I'll take care of the rest." She dipped her hand back in the depths of her purse and dug for a pen.

He rattled off her number. "It sounds like we will be in good hands, with the glowing recommendation my future son-in-law gave you."

"Well, that means a lot to me, sir." She bit down on her lip to keep the cynicism from her voice. "I'll get in touch with your daughter in the morning and set up a meeting."

 "Thank you. I look forward to seeing your finished product."

After saying their goodbyes, Jemma hung up and stood there in a daze. Conflicting emotions swirled through her until she turned and stared at Holloway's store front. She walked back inside, directly to the front counter.

The sales clerk looked up and smiled. "Back for more demos?"

She returned his grin, though hers was probably more along the maniacal side. "Nope, I'd like to open an account and charge the camera and printer I was just looking at. I'll have a deposit check soon and be able to pay it off in June."

*  *  *

After signing her life away, and giddily watching them sack up her new things, Jemma somehow made it to her car. Her brain flipped between the excitement of new equipment and the conflicting emotions of the wedding she'd just agreed to photograph. She drove the short distance to her apartment, parked her car, and climbed the stairs in a near zombie state. She laid her things on the couch and flung herself onto her bed, bouncing twice before coming to rest. Her thoughts switched to the next day's task of calling the bride.

How in the heck am I
gonna handle this one?

Jemma guessed Kate had no knowledge of her and Dalton's prior relationship. Jemma's alter egos began a boxing match. Her professional, common sense side—which her mother nurtured—would keep her word and follow through with everything she'd promised on the phone. She would call, make the arrangements, show up for the wedding, take the photos, refrain from killing Dalton, and all would be great in the world. However, her father had also had a hand in raising her. The side he'd instilled would follow through with everything else, but lie in wait for the perfect moment to cause the most chaos, ruining the wedding after Kate's daddy-dearest forked out all of his cash. Either way, she'd get the money to pay off her equipment.

Silver lining?

"Mikey's right; I
am
psychotic." Jemma's voice echoed off of her high ceiling.

At least both sides agreed to make the phone call in the morning.  The rest could be decided after the shock wore off.

On the way to her parents' house for lunch, Jemma dialed the bride-to-be's number and put in her Bluetooth headset. Her mother's calming words echoed in her mind:
A
deep cleansing breath, in through the nose…

"Hello?"

Jemma released her breath in a
whoosh
. "Kate McCallister?"

"Yes, and this is?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Jemma Keith with
Always the Photographer, Never the Bride
. The studio your father called for your wedding."

"Oh, I'm so thrilled to meet with you and see what you have planned. Dalton was very impressed with the work you've done in the past." The genuine, honest excitement in her voice took Jemma by surprise.

Shaking her head, Jemma reminded herself of whom this woman was marrying and how the groom-to-be had lied through his teeth to her for just shy of an entire year.

Switching back into syrupy-sweet, professional mode, she gushed, "Oh, me too. When is a good time for you?"

They chose Jemma's favorite coffeehouse for their meeting place, and Kate gave her a week to work up the confidence to face her. Everything would be just fine.

As long as Jemma could keep her mouth shut.

*  *  *

"You're ten minutes late." Her mother's cold nature snapped Jemma's inner-selves from their mental sword fight. With a time frame involved, they'd switched to blades. "Your father is out in the back yard. He made some comment about how you'll probably be late for your own funeral then stormed out there with the puppy."

"I only do this to irritate him. He pushes me, and I dig my heels in. It's a game for us."

"Yeah, well, that
game
is going to be the death of him." Humor twinkled in her eyes. They walked to the screen door and watched her father in the yard. His set jaw and hard grimace betrayed the sweet words as he talked to the little red fur-ball hanging on his every word. Her mom opened the door and they joined him on the deck. "Your daughter is here."

Turning to face Jemma, he folded his arms in defiance and stared down his nose at her. "Well, what's your excuse this time?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't realize fast food started taking reservations." Jemma feigned innocence, complete with batted eyelashes, bringing a giggle from her mom. This only served to narrow her father's gaze further, his teeth now grinding.

"It's rude to show up late. Bad business sense to set appointments and then run thirty minutes late, that's all I'm saying." He turned and threw a stick for the puppy. She darted after it, bringing it back to the deck but keeping it barely out of his reach. Shaking his head in defeat, he murmured, "Just like a woman, and a red-headed woman to boot. You're a tease, Penny."

Jemma walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, "No, she's a puppy, Daddy. I'm sorry I'm late. I had a last minute appointment to set up. I couldn't drive and write in my planner at the same time." She batted her eyelashes again. "Please forgive me. Besides, if I was ever on time, you would have a coronary for sure."

"Well, since you were making money, I'll forgive you." He wrapped her in a bear hug. Squeezing the air from her lungs in repayment for being late, he swept her off her feet and spun her in circles like he'd done since she was a little girl.

Once he set her on her feet again and released her, she decided to break the not so stellar news. "Uh, Daddy, you might not be so forgiving when I tell you who I made the appointment with."

"If they're paying you, I don't care if you're taking pictures for the devil himself."

"Close."

He stopped playing tug of war with the dog and returned his full attention to his daughter. "You have got to be yanking my chain, child. No one would marry that piece of..."

Keeping him from a contribution to the swear jar, she interjected, "Evidently, his boss's daughter would."

Laughter erupted from both of her parents and filled the garden. Even Bill and Helen from next door wandered out onto their back deck and peered over the fence.

Her dad waved them off. "He actually had enough nerve to call and ask you to photograph his wedding? Wait!" Throwing his hands in the air, he flailed them wildly to keep her from answering his first question. "You said you set up an appointment earlier, so that means you accepted the offer. So the million dollar question is, are you out of your effing mind?"

"It's complicated," she huffed. "And, a long story."

Her father crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm a smart man and have plenty of time."

"Okay, sit down, and let me explain."

He hung on every word while Jemma told of Dalton's head games and how she couldn't walk away from it without a fight—and how she was also conflicted on exactly
how
to fight the battle. Understanding set his jaw again, and the vein at his temple bulged and pulsed. Jemma reached across the green metal patio table and squeezed his hand in an attempt to calm him. Her mother walked up behind and massaged his shoulders.

"Is it too late to cancel?" her mother offered.

Jemma told them how much the job was paying. They whistled in unison. "And, I might have already gotten a new camera and printer on credit for about the same amount." She winced, expecting them to bring up the money she owed them. Nothing was said. Though, her mother did get in her normal deep sigh and knowing look.

She offered advice to Jemma first. "Well, honey, you need to take the high road. Be the better person and show him that you're over him. He set the bar, and you can hurdle it with no problem."

Her father's opinion differed drastically. "There's nothing wrong if you choose to limbo that sucker. I say that you wait until the preacher says the line about anyone knowing any reason why those two shouldn't be joined in holy matrimony and then you stand up and give them a list in alphabetical order."

Jemma shook her head and waved a hand in resignation.

Her mother leaned over, wrapped her arms around her husband, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Our daughter has grown into a lovely, mature woman and will handle this with all the grace and dignity…"

As though on cue, Mikey burst through the back door. The metal frame slammed against the side of the house as he belched from the bottom of his gut.

She concluded, "…that
your
son lacks."

"What?" Mikey said. "Why do you always have to go dissin' me?" He stood with hands stretched wide, shoulders scrunched, and his face contorted in a look of utter disgust.

"Would you like to go to lunch with us?"

Mom's invitation instantly morphed the harsh scowl on his face to a bright smile. "Oh, yeah!"

She winked at Jemma across the table, and they shared a knowing look, understanding that the one, surefire way to soothe the male savage beasts in their family was through their stomachs.

Falling right into step with his son, Michael stood and patted his rounded belly. "I'm starved, ladies. Let's get this show on the road."

He wrestled Mikey into a headlock, and they walked through the house toward the front door. Mom followed behind and played damage control. A vase toppled when they bumped against the fireplace mantle, and she caught it; picked a cushion from the floor that they knocked off of the couch and replaced it, grabbed magazines that scattered from the coffee table as they fought and played on their way out of the door. Her work was never done when those two were together.

Jemma did her best to catch what her mother missed. The guys had wrestled and played since Mikey was old enough to hold his own. She and her mother had been cleaning up their messes ever since.

Though only the first weekend in May, Springfield, Missouri already felt like the tropics. Humidity levels as high as the temps made eighty degrees feel like a sauna. Sweat trickled down Jemma's neck in the short time it took to walk from her car to the door of the Lighthouse Café on Walnut Street. She swiped her damp bangs from her eyes and scanned the crowd for a woman fitting Kate McCallister's description.

She didn't have to search long.

A stunning, lithe woman with long, silky chestnut locks stood and waved for her from a booth near the counter. An off-white, sleeveless designer dress hugged Kate's perfect form. A surge of insecurity filled Jemma, her choice of denim crop pants, baby doll tank and flip-flops seeming a little
too
casual for their agreed upon weekend casual dress. Forcing a smile into place, she walked toward the beautiful woman.

"Jemma, I recognized you from your website. This is my cousin, Anthony Giovanni." Kate's voice filtered through her anxiety filled plan to go home and change.

Another bout of insecurity slammed into her as he stood to shake Jemma's hand. Dressed in a pair of dark blue dress pants, white shirt, and a loosened sky blue tie so his top two buttons could be undone, the man could've walked right off of the cover of
GQ
magazine. The shirt was a stark comparison to his tanned complexion and accentuated his jet-black hair. Drawn into the depths of his midnight blue eyes, Jemma forgot to speak. She normally didn't make a habit of acting like a teenaged groupie. Obviously, her brain had disengaged somewhere between his tie and his eyes.

She broke away from his bemused gaze and turned to the super pressing task at hand of making sure her toes were clean. When she finally regained enough confidence to look back toward him, he gave her a sly smile and a quick wink, which set her at ease somewhat. It didn't stop her cheeks from warming, even warmer still as she realized she was still holding his hand. Abruptly yanking hers away, she blurted, "Jemma Keith, wedding photographer."