Married by June

Yeah. Those were the main issues and he had only himself to blame. It was Chelsea’s idea for them to get married, and her wish, which had been expanded into a huge fundraiser for the Wish Team’s tenth anniversary, was being granted even though she’d died months ago, much sooner than they’d hoped. But it had been his own inability to resist a romantic gesture that sealed the engagement.

He could have said no, but Chelsea’s defiant belief in the power of wishing after a lifetime of disappointment had touched him. He’d seen the hope in her eyes that she could give Jorie this one thing before she died, and he’d said yes, because how could he not help her when he knew exactly what it meant to care that much about your family?

He and Jorie had only been dating for six months at the time and their relationship was still so new he hadn’t seen any downside. He didn’t stop to think about consequences, so caught up in Chelsea’s dream that he couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to. His mom had been complaining about this habit of acting from the heart ever since he’d set the class room pets loose in kindergarten. The rabbit hadn’t gotten far, but two of the gerbils and the corn snake hadn’t been seen again. He was the guy who always put his hand over his heart for the National Anthem. He’d given the toast at his brother’s wedding and two different women had propositioned him afterward and a guy from the World Wildlife Fund had asked him to write their annual donor appeal. Which he’d done. He liked pandas as much as the next guy.

Chelsea Burke had offered him the chance to be a knight in shining armor and he’d said yes. His fault.

His romantic impulsiveness had brought him and Jorie to this point, but his good sense had finally caught up. It was late. Too late in many ways, but they hadn’t passed the irrevocable point where they pledged some as yet unwritten vows to each other. He’d screwed up and he was going to hurt a lot of people, but he’d do the right thing before it really was too late.

When he proposed to Jorie, he knew deep down that they hadn’t been together long enough, didn’t know each other well enough, but he’d convinced himself it wouldn’t matter. If anything, he knew less about Jorie now. She was beautiful, at least to him. Her strawberry-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes meshed perfectly with creamy skin dusted with freckles. She was smart, perceptive and had a wry sense of humor he appreciated. She had impeccable fashion sense, although she tended toward the conservative, and he loved the body she kept concealed under her buttoned-up exterior.

Unfortunately, he’d found out most of those things during the first few months they were dating. Since then, he’d been unable to get closer to her. She was so guarded he couldn’t find a way in. He’d become convinced that what he’d initially thought of as sophistication was actually an ingrained reserve. Or else she didn’t much like him. Either way, he was out of ideas for how to turn his hopes for their relationship into reality.

He stood up and walked to the front of the church. Leaning on the railing around the votive candles, he watched the flames flicker. He put another dollar in the metal collection box and picked up a long wooden match, dipping it into the flame. He lit one last candle and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sure who the apology was for. Chelsea, Jorie, himself? He hoped Jorie would understand.

COOPER DIDN’T KISS HER.

He had to pass her to get to his chair at Lucky’s tasting table, and he trailed one hand along the back of her seat, grazing the skin above the collar of her coffee-stained dress, but he didn’t bend to kiss her cheek.

Cooper always kissed her.

He kissed everyone—his mother, his brother, his father, his many cousins, his friends. Jorie wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’d kissed his bus driver in elementary school. A peck on the cheek in greeting from Cooper Murphy was nothing special. Not getting one was. Especially for the woman planning to marry him.

If she hadn’t been so intent on making every detail of her wedding perfect now that it was her only project, she would have worried more about the missing kiss, but she had bigger fish to fry.

Red velvet fish, if all went according to plan.

Alice poked her head around the door leading to the front of the bakery. “There’s our groom!” she called. “A few minutes late and Jorie had us convinced you weren’t coming. Give me one second.” She ducked back out of sight, the swinging door making a breeze strong enough to ruffle the edge of the cotton tablecloth.

“I didn’t say you weren’t coming,” Jorie protested. “I’m nervous, that’s all. Alice is being dramatic.”

He pulled his seat out but stayed on his feet, his hands wrapped tightly around the white wooden knobs on either side of the ladder-back chair. “Listen, Jorie, I almost didn’t come.” He hesitated and seemed to change his mind about what to say. “I can’t do this.”

What was he talking about? Alice’s cakes were amazing. He knew that because he’d eaten just as many pieces as she had in the past few months.

“I know you’re dubious about the red velvet, but I told you, ignore the name. You’re going to love it.” She picked up the pale aqua menu card and tried to hand it to him. “Aren’t these menus perfect? The blue and silver are our wedding colors, and see, our names and the wedding date are right here. Brides love these.” Alice made individual cake menus for all of the couples who came for tastings. As keep-sakes, they looked gorgeous mounted in Jorie’s wedding binders.

He took the menu but didn’t read it. “I was working on the vows all morning.”

The vows. She was almost afraid to ask what he’d written. Elise Gordon (348 guests, silver and white New Year’s wedding) had written rhyming vows which her husband rapped to her. (The rhymes had been planned; the rap was spur of the moment.) Jorie wasn’t interested in a rap, but she did wonder what Cooper would promise and what he’d ask from her in return. Her mom had never gotten any of her boyfriends to the vow stage, and it had seemed to Jorie that her mom had consistently given more than she got.

Alice backed through the door just then, a tray held in front of her. “I am so sorry, guys. The counter is crazy busy and my full-time help is home with a sick kid.” She slid the silver tray holding four small cakes onto the table. “I’d love to give you the full treatment, but I’m going to have to leave you on your own.” She pointed to the cake at the top of the tray. “This is the carrot. Start here.” She pointed at each one, moving clockwise around the grouping. “Carrot. Lemon. Red velvet. Chocolate. Small bites. Taste each one before you make up your mind. The usual drill, Jorie. Don’t let your man taste out of order—he’ll ruin the flavors.”

She beamed at them. “Of all the weddings we’re doing this year, yours is going to be the most perfect.” Her eyes sparkled under the brim of her Lucky’s ball cap. “Your mom would have loved this.”

The bell rang in the front of the bakery and Alice put two forks and a serving spatula next to the china dessert plates on the table. “Enjoy!” She rushed back through the door, leaving them alone.

The tasting room at Lucky’s was tucked behind the actual store. Alice had told her she’d picked grass-green for the walls with white accents because bright spaces made people hungry. Cooper, standing behind his chair, didn’t seem to be falling under the spell. Jorie leaned back so she could see him better. His thick brown hair, dark chocolate eyes and deep dimples were such a perfect combination, they still made her tingle, but she couldn’t read his expression. Cooper was characteristically open and uncomplicated. It was one of the reasons she’d been attracted to him. But today, he wouldn’t meet her eye. He still hadn’t sat down.

And he hadn’t kissed her.

She turned the tray a fraction so that the carrot cake was positioned at exactly twelve o’clock. She was reading too much into that missing kiss. He’d been late and he was distracted. She was upset about losing Nadine’s wedding. So what if he hadn’t kissed her? It didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean…

He put the menu on the table, so close to the tray that the top corner made a divot in the icing on the carrot cake. She’d have to ask Alice for an extra copy; that stained one might ruin her binder.

“Jorie,” he said, and his voice was soft. He had a terrific voice, rich and rumbly, but it could be incredibly gentle. “I wanted this to work out, you know I did. But I can’t…I couldn’t write the vows.” He looked away, his glance bouncing around the room, which was decorated with oversize black and white prints of brides and grooms. “We have to call it off.”

He wasn’t doing this. He wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him. Her stomach was starting to hurt and she really wanted to take off her belt.

“Please sit down,” she said. “You’re too tall and I’m never going to be able to cut even slices with you looming over me.”

She pushed his chair out with her foot, a little harder than necessary. He stepped back quickly to avoid getting hit in the gut, and she panicked. He was leaving.

“You have to sit down!” she said and he did. She picked up the cake server. “Carrot first.”

He covered her hand with his own. “Please stop talking about cake.”

“Why? Why can’t we get this done? Why can’t one thing go right today?” She pulled her hand away from his. “My belt is too small, my dress is stained and I lost the Richford contract this morning because all of my ideas are stupid. Is it so awful that I’d like to sit here in Alice’s pretty room and eat these cakes with you?”

“You lost the Richford contract?” He shifted slightly toward her. “I’m sorry.”

For the first time, he looked straight at her. She’d always thought those deep brown eyes gave him an unfair advantage. Cooper was a truly good guy, kind, honest, romantic. He looked so trustworthy, she didn’t know how anyone could ever doubt him.

“They didn’t love my Rebel Without a Cause theme.”

“Everyone dies at the end of that movie.”

“Sal Mineo dies. Everyone else is fine.”

“That other kid dies in the chicken scene.”

“He was a bully!”

“Still, not exactly the first film you think of for a wedding.”

Jorie pulled the tray closer and cut a thick wedge of the red velvet. She wasn’t going to agree to lemon or carrot, so why mess around? “Maybe you should have come to the meeting. You seem to have the same taste in weddings as Sally and Nadine.” She flipped the slice onto his plate and speared a bite with his fork. She held it up and he hesitated, then took it. His mouth curved around the fork. Cooper had a beautiful mouth with strong, sculpted lips.

“That’s delicious.”

“See? I know what I’m talking about. I knew you’d love that one.”

“Liking the same cake doesn’t mean we should get married.”

“What?” The desperate, deliberate innocence in her voice reminded her so much of her mom that she could almost see Chelsea sitting at the table with them. How many times had her mom tried to hold on to a guy who was letting her down easy? How often had Jorie promised herself she’d never be that begging woman?

He folded his hands, pressing them together.

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Badly. I want to call off the wedding. If we go through with it, we’ll be lying. To my family, to our friends. To each other.”

“I’m not lying,” she whispered. She laid the fork gently down on the edge of his plate. She put her hand on his wrist, wanting to hold onto him and hating herself for wanting it.

“We are, Jorie. I tried to write the vows and I couldn’t. I kept winding up back at your mom. We’re doing this for her.” He shook his head. “We don’t even know each other.”

“I knew you’d like red velvet cake.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Of course it’s not.” She dropped his wrist. She knew as well as anyone that cake wasn’t enough. “Why is this suddenly coming up now? When you proposed, I said no. Remember? I said it was too soon and my mom was wedding-crazed as usual. But you persuaded me. You said we had a great start and we could build on it and we should give my mom this last gift because what better way to start a life together?” She slid out of her chair and walked a few steps before turning back. “You had your big romantic moment. You wrote me a fairy tale. And now I’ve got everything wrapped up in this wedding—my business, my reputation, the fundraiser for my mom’s registry, everything! And you’re going to leave me hanging?”

He poked the tines of his fork into the icing on the edge of the plate.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“What did you mean, then? You asked me to marry you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I wanted to make your mom happy. To make you happy. I thought it would all work out.”

She stared at him. “No wonder,” she said. “You’re a romantic just like her. Things don’t ‘work out.’ You have to work at them. You have to try.”

“We have tried.”

“No, we haven’t,” she said quickly. “We’ve been tiptoeing around each other ever since my mom died.”

The fork clattered on the plate. He shook his head and pushed his chair back, not making eye contact. “I’m sorry. Jorie, you’re a great person. I wanted your mom to be happy and I wanted you to be happy, but I can’t marry you. It will only make more problems.”

He was walking out. Just like that. He’d decided things were over and it didn’t matter what she said or what she wanted.

“We have to at least try,” she whispered. “I can’t—” become my mother “—ruin my mother’s last wish.”

“Your mom is the reason we got engaged. I can’t get married for her, too.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her life was ending right here at the tasting table in the back room at Lucky’s. Her engagement. Her chance at being the woman Cooper Murphy chose to marry. The moment when she proved once and for all that she wasn’t going to live her mother’s life.

He leaned down and she hoped he’d changed his mind. Maybe he was going to kiss her and every thing else he’d said would fade into a bad dream. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you,” he said, very quietly.

She couldn’t speak. He didn’t kiss her. The door closed behind him and she was alone with her tray of untasted cakes and two dirty forks.

COOPER PAUSED AFTER HE closed the door. Nice going, jackass. He’d handled that about as badly as possible. He’d been screwing this up right from the start and it had ended with Jorie getting hurt. He rubbed his wrist, pressing the spot where she’d held him tightly. Jorie didn’t cling. She didn’t beg. Hell, she hardly ever asked. He was hard pressed to remember an instance in the time he’d known her when she’d asked him for something that didn’t have to do with the wedding.

He shook his head. That was the point. She didn’t want anything from him. He and Jorie didn’t have a relationship, they had plans for a wedding.

As he passed the big front window of the bakery, he glimpsed Alice through the glass. Her mouth opened when she saw him, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the tasting room. Good. Jorie wouldn’t be alone. He was halfway across the street, heading toward his office, hoping he could finally make some progress on the speech he was supposed to be writing for his brother, when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID. “Dad?”

“We need you at the house.”

“What’s wrong?” A list went through his mind… Mom, Bailey, Dad. Was someone sick? “Dad, what’s happened? Is Mom…?”

“Your mother is fine. How long before you can get here?”

“I…” He shifted the phone to his left hand and glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes? Why?”

“I don’t want to talk on the cell. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

So it was politics. Something was up with Bailey.

“Are you sure you need me?” he asked. “Because Jorie and I—”

“Make it ten if you can,” his dad said, and then he hung up.

Good old Dad. Whenever the tension went up, his carefully cultivated interpersonal skills went out the window, and he turned into the predator Nolan Murphy, driven, focused, ruthless when necessary. If he weren’t so brilliant, Cooper thought, it would be easy to dislike the guy. As it was, if his dad said jump, Cooper asked how high and never stopped to question why jumping was required.

CHAPTER TWO

ALICE PUSHED OPEN THE door to the tasting room. “Did Cooper leave?”

“He liked the red velvet,” Jorie said. She thought she’d done a good job of sounding exactly like a bride-to-be after a satisfactory cake tasting, but when Alice came all the way into the room and crouched down next to the table, she knew she’d failed.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t think he was going to like it.” Jorie used two fingers to slide the silver tray away from her. The uneaten cakes were making her nauseous and she thought vomiting in Alice’s tasting room might be bad for their friendship. “Whoever named it should have done better market research because that sucker is a tough sell. Velvet is fuzzy, you know?”

Alice didn’t respond.

“He called off the engagement.”

Saying it out loud made it real. Alice sat back on her heels, apparently at a loss for words. She was only the first, Jorie realized. Everyone she told would look at her with exactly the same shock mixed with pity. She’d have to notify the caterers and the hotel. She’d need to call the priest and cancel the church, but first, she’d have to call the Wish Team. They’d pulled strings to get the National Cathedral. That call would be the cap on the dissolution of her life. Once the wedding was canceled, this whole dream would be down the drain. She’d be her mother, trying to cobble some new life together after she’d lost her latest man. There was no way she’d be able to pull her business back from the brink after this. Who would hire the wedding planner who couldn’t even drag her own man to the altar?

No.

She wasn’t going to watch her life fall apart. She regretted saying anything to Alice.

“I don’t think he meant it, though,” she said quickly. “He said he was working on the vows. It could have been cold feet.”

“Tell me what he said.”

The door to the bakery opened and the college boy who was working the register stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Alice, but there’s a woman here who says she ordered five dozen coconut cupcakes and the only ones in the cooler are strawberry cheesecake.”

“They’re on the top shelf, already boxed. Find them. I’m with a bride.”

“Not exactly,” Jorie muttered.

The door closed again and Alice pulled the empty chair around and sat down, facing Jorie. “I want to hear what happened.”

“You have customers.”

“They can wait. Tell me.”

“He said he can’t marry me,” Jorie whispered. She should get up and leave before she embarrassed herself any more, but she didn’t.

The door swung open again. “Alice, what’s the register code for the apple pie?”

“Pies are free for the next fifteen minutes. Tell the customers it’s a cooked fruit freebie frenzy.” Alice narrowed her eyes at her assistant. “Also, Eliot? You go to Georgetown. You can manage the bakery by yourself for five minutes. It’s straightforward. Take in dollars. Hand over carbohydrates.”

Eliot retreated.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Alice said.

“You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m private and prickly and I’ve never been good at relationships.” Jorie paused. She could hear her voice rising and she really didn’t want to lose control. She and Alice were friends, but not the kind who bared their souls—it was bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop talking. “But I thought Cooper knew me. I thought he was okay with me.”

Alice put her hands on Jorie’s shoulders. “I’ll give you private, but I don’t see prickly. Whatever Cooper’s problem is, it’s not you.”

Jorie looked down at the table.

“Right?” Alice prompted.

“Sure.” Jorie sighed. “Do you think we’ll have to give the Wish Registry gifts back?” When she and Cooper had agreed they didn’t want gifts for their wedding, her mom had been disappointed that she wouldn’t get to help Jorie fill out the registry. It had been Chelsea’s inspiration, so typical of her generous spirit, that had led to the Wish Registry. It included everything from music lessons to sports tickets to trips and video game systems—a list of wishes the foundation had matched with recipients. Her mom had insisted that they wrap each item, even if it was only a gift certificate or trip itinerary, so the recipient would have something tangible. “My mom loved that stupid registry so much.”

“And you love Cooper, right?” Alice asked gently. “You were marrying him because you love him, not for your mom, right?”

“How could I not love Cooper?” she asked.

Alice let that go. “Are you too prickly for a hug?” Any other day Jorie would have felt like an idiot for being so publicly distressed, but today seemed to be a day of firsts. When Alice pulled her in and hugged her, she closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. She did love Cooper. Or she would have loved Cooper once they were married. She was quite sure she had the right feelings about him. She liked his company. They had good talks. She liked the way he looked. They were great in bed. She’d talked to enough couples to know that she wasn’t exactly passionately in love, but she was close. If only she had a little more time.

COOPER TOOK THE FRONT steps to the Georgetown row house he’d grown up in two at a time. On the way there, he’d imagined about fifty really bad reasons his dad wanted to meet him at home in the middle of the day. It was probably politics, but Cooper, who spent his life writing inspiring speeches, had a very good imagination.

His mom opened the door when he knocked, and because she’d been on his list of possible casualties, he gave her a hug in addition to his usual kiss on the cheek. His dad had told him she was fine, but his dad had lied to him before. Of course, Nolan Murphy would call it keeping him on a need-to-know basis. His dad’s standards were far from black and white when it came to the truth.

“Good to see you, Mom,” he said. “You look great.” She did, too. Rachel Murphy was tall, blonde and fit. She also had one of the best policy minds on the East Coast. She played up her feminine side with color and flowing fabrics and bold jewelry. She said her décolletage had bamboozled more senators into more deals than half the lobbying firms in the city. When he patted her shoulder, he was relieved to feel the familiar taut muscles earned from a lifetime of tennis. “Nice and healthy.”

Rachel hugged him back and then straightened, one hand still on his forearm. “Your dad didn’t fill you in on what’s going on, did he? He let you worry?”

He nodded.

“I’m telling you, Cooper. That man knows better than to torment you. The short answer is, it’s your brother. Bailey has gotten himself into a serious mess and I don’t see a way out for him this time. Your dad and Theo are still working out the angles, but I think it’s going to mean resignation—your dad just hasn’t come to grips with that yet.”

“Resignation” sent a jolt through him. A Murphy was going to resign from his Senate seat? What the hell could Bailey have done? His mom and dad lived and breathed the Senate—they had since long before Cooper was born. His mom had married into the family, but she seemed just as proud as his dad to remind people there’d been a Murphy in the Senate since 1968.

“Resign, Mom? What happened?”

“It’s not something that happened. It’s something he did. Deliberately and without even considering what it would mean for us. For your father. For his committees. For the votes he has coming up. For anyone.”

She was past furious. Usually the family could count on her to be the voice of reason. Not this time.

“You coming in?” he asked her.

“I’ve given them my opinion already, and frankly, I shouldn’t be around Bailey right now. I would hate for this situation to get any more acrimonious than it already is, but he has really…the idea that someone with his gifts would flush it all—” Rachel patted Cooper’s arm, her face tight with controlled anger. “It’s better for everyone if I stay out of the way for a while.”