A Taste Of Paradise. Leslie KellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
than a year ago, fun wasn’t the word to use. Heather would prefer to listen to a chorus of six-year-olds singing that song from Frozen on a 24/7 loop than hear her mom say one more word about her upcoming Caribbean wedding.
“Are you sure you’ve got enough sunscreen?”
“I’m sure,” she said, even as she fantasized about getting a bad case of sun poisoning so she could bail on the wedding.
“And a hat and cover-up? That tropical sun is so strong!”
“Two hats, three cover-ups, a few long-sleeved shirts. Know where I can find a burqa?” Her tone was as calm and even as her expression. Frankly, she was starting to congratulate herself on both. She’d gotten pretty good at hiding her true thoughts.
“Smarty-pants,” her mother said with a laugh, not reading anything into Heather’s mood. How she couldn’t realize that her daughter was a steaming ball of emotion most of the time was beyond her.
Seriously, her mother was a smart woman, but she appeared to have no clue that Heather, who’d adored her dad, was heartbroken about Amy’s whirlwind romance, engagement and destination wedding. In two days, they and twenty other friends and family members would fly to Miami to board a private yacht, with a crew of ten. Five days of sailing would take them to Barbados, where her mother would marry a rich stranger whom Heather hadn’t even met.
Her fault, she supposed. She’d evaded every possible meeting, never imagining anything would come of the romance. It was too painful for her to even think about her mom dating anyone. Not because she didn’t wish her happiness, but because it was just too soon. Heather wasn’t over her father’s unexpected death at only fifty-one. How could her mother be?
Short answer: she wasn’t. Amy Hughes had always been the queen of denial. Heather feared she was now denying herself the chance to grieve.
She’d told herself her mother’s fling with an Albuquerque businessman was none of her business. Her mom had always been, as her father had called her, a flibbertigibbet—flighty and joyful. That described her mom to a T. But she also had a huge heart full of love, and she craved it in return. She was a vibrant, pretty fifty-year-old. Of course she’d want to be in love again.
“Still, did it have to be so damn soon?” Heather mumbled.
“What was that, honey?”
“Nothing,” she said as she parked the car outside the country club where tonight’s engagement party was being held.
It seemed dumb to have an engagement party a week before the wedding. But the bride and groom had wanted all the guests to meet on neutral ground before they boarded the yacht where they’d be stuck together for five days.
Heather could only list a few things she’d less look forward to doing for five days, including getting parts of her body waxed or listening to her dad’s old Bee Gees collection.
“I’m so excited that you’re finally going to meet Jerry,” Mom said as they exited the car. “You’ll love him.”
Maybe. As soon as she was able to stop crying for her dad.
“I just hope his son will approve of me,” her mother added.
Heather stopped mid stride. “Son?”
“Yes, he has one son. Didn’t I mention that?”
“No.” Jesus, she was now going to have a stepbrother to go along with the stepfather? Only in her mother’s flibbertigibbety world would something like that not have come up before now.
“Well, to be fair, baby girl, you haven’t been very interested in hearing about Jerry or the wedding.”
“No, I guess I haven’t.” Then, because she simply had to say something, she added, “Mom, are you sure about this?”
Her mother kept that smile pasted on. Heaven forbid they have an honest conversation that pierced the happy bubble. Heather’s greatest fear was that when the bubble inevitably burst and her mother allowed herself to truly grieve for what she had lost, she might be stuck in a marriage with someone she didn’t love.
“What do you mean?” her mother asked, continuing to play the game they’d been playing since the day of her father’s funeral, when her mom had declared she was too young to wear black and had put on a pink dress. Put off until tomorrow what you can’t deal with today. That was Amy Hughes’s motto.
“I mean...it’s awfully soon.”
“Yes, but I married your father after only nine months and look how well that worked out. I may have only met Jerry six months ago, but I’m even older and wiser now.”
Heather hadn’t been talking about how long her mother had known this Jerry dude, but rather about how long it had been since Dad’s death. But of course, Mom realized that. She just didn’t want to talk about it. Meaning Heather had to zip her lips and paste on a smile, or force the issue and risk her mother exploding into tears right before the party.
Heather might be ruthless when it came to running her business, but she couldn’t be toward her sweet-natured mother. So, with a sigh, she said, “Just promise me this party has an open bar.”
“Well, of course it does, honey.”
Of course. The groom had boatloads of money, after all. Jerry what’s-his-name was a real estate developer and had enough cash to ensure his new bride would never want for a thing for the rest of her days. Unlike Heather’s dad, the English teacher, whose heart had always been bigger than his bank account.
She kinda already hated Jerry on principle.
“There he is,” her mom said, squeezing Heather’s arm. “And that tall young man with him—well, that must be Nathan.”
Heather stiffened, unable to prevent the reflex. Ever since her aborted romance with football superstar Nathan Watson last year, she tensed whenever she heard that first name. Which made it imperative to keep away from sports channels throughout the winter. But even that hadn’t been enough—she’d also had to avoid any tabloid-type news for a while, considering he’d been embroiled in a baby-daddy scandal with his pop-star singing ex for months.
How silly she’d been, hoping he would get in touch with her at some point. Her note had been brief and cryptic, surely he would be curious, perhaps even apologetic. But there’d been nothing. Not a single word. Which said everything there was to know about what he’d really thought of her.
She was, indeed, a nobody.
She forced her mind off of Nathan—his handsome face, the amazing three days they’d spent together—focusing instead on her mother’s romantic drama. Her own was in the past and there it would remain. Nate’s utter silence proved that.
“Here we are!” her mother called to the two men who stood on the front patio of the club, almost nose to nose, appearing deep in an intense and possibly heated conversation.
Both men turned toward them, the salt-and-pepper-haired one stepping to the edge of the patio, into a pool of exterior light. Heather’s stomach churned as she noticed the fact that he was good-looking, well-built and eyeing her mother adoringly.
Before she had a chance to process that, though, the taller, younger man walked up to join his father. And the world stopped spinning. Or, at least, her little corner of it did.
“No,” she mumbled in disbelief. “It can’t be.” Fate wouldn’t be so unkind as to thrust her biggest regret into her path at the same time she had to deal with this crazy wedding.
Fortunately, her mother had kept walking, so she didn’t overhear Heather’s words. She was left to stand there on the sidewalk, gazing up at the patio, at the very familiar man whose whole body was rigid with tension. “Nate? Is it really you?”
He froze, staring down at her, recognizing her at once. Even as his jaw unhinged, she could read his emotions as they