Anxious in Atlanta: At the Altar Book 12 (A Magnolias and Moonshine Novella 11) Page 2

Dillon felt his throat tighten. He’d contacted Dr. Lachele, because she’d offered the kind of service he needed. Someone who would find him a wife and introduce them at the altar. He knew it seemed like a desperate thing to do, but he felt desperate. “You did?”

  “Yep. She’s planning a small service for the first Saturday in April. Are you free?”

  Dillon laughed. “If I wasn’t, I’d make myself free for my wedding.”

  “All right. Wedding is at two in the afternoon.” She gave him the name and location of a church.

  “Can you call me right back and leave me a voice mail with that information? Or better yet, text me? I don’t want to forget where I need to be.” He knew there was no way he’d remember without writing it down, and he didn’t have a pen or pencil handy.

  After she’d hung up, he looked at the date on his phone. It was already the middle of March. He was going to be married in just a couple of weeks. He knew that should evoke some kind of emotion, but it didn’t. He was marrying because he had to. His uncle forced his hand.

  He shook his head and got back to work. He’d think about marriage later.

  Jean gratefully took the chocolate that Erin held out for her. “You brought all the flavors I asked for?” she asked as she stuck her hand into one of the boxes.

  “Of course I did. Al sent you all the flavors you wanted, and he put a couple of samples in as well. He said you deserved extra for putting up with pregnant Erin, but I think pregnant Erin is a lovely person!”

  Jean sighed, looking between Erin and Megan. “I’m surrounded by pregnant women. Who’s going to help me with my mental breakdown?”

  Erin pointed at Megan who was pointing right back at her. “You know we both will, Jean.”

  “Are we still going to the spa?” Megan asked. “I’m willing, but we need them to be certified in prenatal massage if we’re going to do that. Otherwise it’s just facials and mani-pedis for us.”

  Jean’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t even think to ask about prenatal massages. I’ve never had a massage at all!”

  Erin grinned. “I’m just glad you actually took a day off work. Please tell me you got a couple of days off after the wedding.”

  Jean shook her head. “Didn’t work out. I have the weekend.” She remembered that how much Al worked had caused some headaches for Erin early on, but now they seemed to get along very well.

  “At least Al took off work long enough to take me to Switzerland for our honeymoon.”

  “It was a business trip,” Megan reminded her sister. “You complained about it for weeks.” She shook her head. “Jean, call the spa and see if the massages we’re booked for can be prenatals. We can’t exactly hide our pregnancies.”

  Erin stuck her tongue out at her sister. “I can. I look like I have a big food baby.”

  “There are times I wonder if we’re really related, Erin.”

  Jean ignored the two bickering sisters and grabbed her phone, walking into her kitchen to call the spa. When she finished, she went back to her friends. “They do prenatal massage. The therapist who had me is the only one who does it, so they’re going to put me with a different therapist, and one of you will massage while the other does a facial and vice versa. All set.”

  Megan shrugged. “Easier than I thought it would be.”

  “Me too! Anyway, since I don’t have a spare room, I booked us all at a hotel near here.” Jean had sent a car service to take the sisters from the airport to her apartment. “I just got home. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to pick you up.”

  “Well, you are planning a wedding and all.”

  “Not much to plan. I have a dress. I have a church and a preacher. I’m not planning a reception or anything because I really don’t know anyone. It’ll be us and whoever he brings with him.”

  Erin frowned. “You don’t have any friends at work?”

  Jean wrinkled her nose. “They’re all a bunch of stockbrokers. Total fuddy-duddies. Who would want to be friends with them?”

  “You’re a fuddy-duddy stockbroker, and we like you!”

  “Is it my fault you have bad taste?” Jean asked.

  Erin sighed. “You need to find time to do some volunteer work or something. If you’re not going to hang out with stockbrokers, you need to meet some non-stockbrokery people.”

  “You’re making up words again.” Jean shook her head at Erin.

  “Hey, I’m a chocolate empress. I can make up any words I want! You should be thankful I left my tiara at home. I’m thinking about getting a scepter to whack Al with when he gets on my nerves.”

  Megan made a face at Erin. “I thought you said you weren’t going to let this chocolate empress-thing go to your head.”

  Erin shrugged. “It’s hard not to.”

  Jean grabbed her suitcase, not planning to return to her apartment until after the wedding.

  “Where’s your wedding dress?” Erin asked.

  “It’s in my car. I picked it up on my way home from work.” Jean led the way to the car. “Don’t lift anything. I’ll do any lifting.”

  Erin sighed. “Such is the life of a chocolate empress.”

  At the church Saturday morning, Jean paced back and forth in her dress. True to form, she was ready more than an hour early, which was good and bad. She now had to sit around and worry about what her future husband would be like.

  When the door opened, Dr. Lachele walked into the church, her arms spread wide. “Boobie bump!”

  Erin hurried over to Dr. Lachele and hugged her tight. “Al is perfect for me. You are a matchmaking genius.”

  Dr. Lachele patted her purple hair into place. “I know.” She moved on to hug Megan and Jean. “Now, I want a picture of a belly bump by you two ladies. Bellies together!”

  Erin and Megan hurried to obey. Erin was just barely showing, but Megan was already six months along. Dr. Lachele snapped the picture before turning all her attention to Jean. “Stop being nervous. He’s a good man. I made sure he was right for you the same way I made sure you were right for him. Trust me.”

  Jean nodded, her face pale. “I shouldn’t have done this.” She was glad she hadn’t had lunch, because she was certain she would be losing it if she had.

  Erin hurried over to Jean’s side, taking her hand. “Yes, you should have. You are too alone. You need people around you. If you’re not going to get married today, you’re going to move back to Wyoming. I don’t know what you’ll do there, but you can’t keep spending all your time alone.”

  “I’m not always alone. I work a lot of hours, and there are always other people there.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Who do you have meals with? Who do you sit and just talk about your day with?”

  Jean shrugged. “I’ve never had anyone to do those things with except when we lived together.”

  Erin nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. You need someone to be a part of your life. I don’t know if you need a husband or a best friend, but you need someone.” She looked at her friend. “You’re wasting away. You finally put on a little weight in college, because I made you go to meals with me, which meant you ate. How many meals did you forget this week?”

  “No idea. I forgot, remember?”

  “I’m worried about you, Jean. You’re one of my favorite people in the whole wide world, and you hide yourself away from everyone. You have to let people get to know you.”

  Jean sighed, knowing her friend was right. “I’m going through with the wedding.”

  Dr. Lachele’s eyes met Erin’s. “You keep her calm. I’m going to go and check on her groom.”

  “He’s here?” Jean asked, her voice full of panic.

  “Yup. Wedding’s in ten minutes. I’m going to talk to him, and I’ll see you when it’s all over.” Dr. Lachele put her hand on the doorknob, but then she turned and walked over to where Jean was sitting, taking the seat beside her. “I promise you this is a good idea. You need to stop worrying. Everything is going to be just fine.”

  “
I’ve got you on speed dial,” Jean said, smiling slightly.

  “Good! I’ll always answer for you.”

  She hurried out of the room, leaving Jean there, panicking quietly.

  Dillon looked up as the door to the room he’d been escorted to upon arrival opened. The crazy purple-haired matchmaker he’d hired was there. “Don’t tell me she didn’t show!”

  Dr. Lachele laughed. “She’s here. I’ve never seen a bride more nervous, and I have been to a lot of weddings where people are meeting at the altar.”

  “Why’s she so freaked out then?”

  “You’ll have to talk to her about that. You know I don’t give out information before you meet. She’s here with her best friend, and her best friend’s sister. No family. No other friends. And that’s more than I should have told you!”

  He frowned. He’d only told about ten people about the wedding, and they’d all come, but they wouldn’t have many guests at all. “Is there going to be a reception?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “Sure. As ready as I’ll ever be.” He wasn’t nervous about marrying, because he had no feelings about it. He was doing it to fulfill the terms of the will and for no other reason.

  “Be gentle with her. She’s going to need kindness.”

  Dillon nodded. “I can handle that.”

  “I know you can, but you might not be aware of the need without prompting.” She glanced at her phone. “It’s time.”

  He moved to the front of the church, frowning at all the empty seats. She must really not have many people in her life, which was sad. He hadn’t told a lot of people about the wedding, not wanting to take up spots where her guests would sit. Maybe he should have shouted it from the rooftops.

  His eyes met Mr. DaMommio’s, who was sitting in the front row. The man was living up to his end of the bargain. Now Dillon just had to live up to his.

  Jean felt her heart plummet as she stood hidden at the back of the church, waiting for her cue to walk down the aisle. Dr. Lachele had offered her husband, Sam, to walk her, but it didn’t feel right to Jean. She’d go to him honestly, not pretending to have someone in her life she didn’t have. She’d never had a father, and she wouldn’t pretend to have one now.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing, worried she would have a panic attack as she walked down the aisle. She’d never had one before, but it seemed that this would be the time if it was going to happen.

  A hand on her arm let her know it was time. Now she wished she had someone walking with her. Anyone. She’d take Dr. Lachele at this moment, because desperation was setting in.

  One foot in front of the other, Jean. You can do it. With one more deep breath, she started walking slowly down the aisle toward the front of the church, and the man she’d never met. He had dark-blond hair, and he wore a nice suit. His eyes were on her, and there was a slight smile on his lips.

  Her eyes were drawn to his, and it seemed as if he was reeling her toward him with the power of his mind. He must be some sort of wizard, because she forgot her panic. Everything but him disappeared from her mind.

  She smiled slightly at the direction her thoughts were going. She was being ridiculous.

  Dillon felt as if he’d been punched in the gut, so strong was his attraction to the pretty girl walking toward him. She’d been pretty at first when it had seemed as if every step she took had taken a herculean effort. When she’d smiled—that’s when he’d felt it. She was about to be his. How could a man not respond powerfully to knowing the woman walking toward him was about to promise to stay with him ’til death? He knew it didn’t really happen that way for most people, but for him it would.

  When she reached his side, he held his hand out for hers, and after a moment’s hesitation, she placed hers in it. “Hi,” he whispered softly.

  “Hi,” she responded, feeling like she was doing something wrong, whispering at her own wedding. But there was no one there to tell her to mind her manners. Or to say she was uncouth. She was coming into this marriage alone, and would hopefully never have to be alone again.

  After their vows were spoken—his in a calm, clear voice, hers merely a whisper—the pastor had them face one another. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

  Dillon held one of her hands in each of his and pulled her toward him, his lips coming down on hers gently. As his lips brushed hers, he saw the fear in her brown eyes, and he wondered what had put it there. He wondered how he could remove it.

  Because there was no reception planned, he stayed at the front of the church, both of her hands still in his. “I’m Dillon.”

  “I’m Jean.” A smile played at her lips. “Forgive me, but I’d love to know what my new last name is.” She had been so distracted during the ceremony, she hadn’t caught his name, even though she was certain the pastor had used it.

  He laughed softly. She had a sense of humor. He could work with that. “It’s Jeffries. You’re Jean Jeffries. It has nice alliteration.”

  “It does. What do you do for a living, Dillon Jeffries?” She knew people were talking to one another all around them, but she needed to concentrate on her new husband. She had to get to know him at least a little bit before she’d feel comfortable leaving with him.

  “I’m a house-flipper. I buy old houses, restore them, then sell them.” He watched her face carefully, waiting to see if there was any censure for not having a corporate job. Not that it would matter if there was. He was very happy with what he did. For a couple of years, when he was first out of college, he’d worked with his uncle, but he hadn’t been happy. Now that he had his own business, he woke up with a smile every day, excited to work. He knew few people who had that kind of drive. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a stockbroker.” As she said the words, she realized they sounded good. Professional. But she hated the idea of going back to work at the job she despised. She would though. Because that’s what she did. She kept going no matter how badly her world was crashing down around her.

  “Sounds boring.”

  Jean laughed. “It is. More boring than you can imagine. Pay is good, so I’ll keep doing it.”

  “What would you do if you could do anything you wanted in the whole world?”

  A smile played at her lips. “I was asked that recently. I think I would own a little bookshop where I got to tell people what books were good every day. My own little piece of heaven.”

  “You should do that then.”

  “As soon as I win the lottery.” Jean didn’t know why his face fell, but she hoped she hadn’t said anything offensive. “Is that wrong?”

  Dillon shook his head. “Not at all. I hope you do win someday.”

  Chapter Three

  Jean turned, her hand still in his. “You need to meet my two closest friends. They flew down from Wyoming for the wedding. This is Erin Frank, who was my college roommate.”

  Dillon smiled at the short, dark-haired woman in front of him. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Dr. Lachele matched my husband and me back in December. We couldn’t be happier.”

  “Nice to hear a success story. It’s hard to believe, as I’m standing here next to a stranger, that happily ever after is on the horizon.”

  Jean felt her heart drop at Dillon’s words. Did that mean he wasn’t attracted to her? Did he want to trade her in for someone else already? “Sorry,” she mumbled softly.

  “Why are you sorry?” Dillon asked, confused.

  “I’m obviously not what you were hoping for.”

  Dillon thought back to the exact words he’d used. “That’s not what I meant at all! I meant it’s hard to get past the nervousness enough to believe that we’ll someday be laughing together and anticipating the future. Does that make sense?”

  Jean nodded, trying not to cry. He was covering up the fact that he didn’t like her. Of course, he didn’t kno
w her, but no one ever really wanted to know her. Her eyes met Erin’s and her friend shook her head. “Jean, I need a moment of your time.”

  Jean looked at Dillon. “I…will you excuse me?”

  Dillon frowned, not wanting her to leave while she didn’t believe him. “I guess so.”

  Erin’s eyes met Dillon’s. “Just for a minute. Here, talk to my sister.” She urged Megan forward as she grabbed Jean’s hand and pulled her back to the room they’d been in before the wedding. “He didn’t mean that like you took it, Jean. Don’t go into your marriage thinking the worst. You have to give him a little bit of trust.”

  Jean felt her eyes fill with tears. “It sounded bad.”

  “Not to me, it didn’t. I understand what he’s saying. Tell me you’re not nervous right now. Tell me you’re not wondering how you’re going to go home with someone you hadn’t met thirty minutes ago. He’s got to be feeling the same way.”

  Jean sighed. “I’m being too sensitive.”

  “You are. And you can’t be. He doesn’t know you at all. To him, you’re a random woman who agreed to marry him. That’s all. Give him a chance.”

  “I will.”

  Erin hugged her tight. “I think you made a good decision, Jean, and we both trust Dr. Lachele. You’re going to be happy. I know you are!”

  Jean stood for a moment, taking deep breaths. “Thanks. I don’t know how freaked out I would have gotten if you hadn’t been here to keep me calm.”

  “I love you, Jean, and do you know what that proves?”

  Jean shook her head. “No idea.”

  “That you’re lovable. Give Dillon a chance to figure that out, would you?”

  “I’ll try.”

  They walked back out into the sanctuary, and Jean moved to Dillon’s side. He looked at her inquiringly. “Okay?”

  “I’m good.” She smiled at him tentatively.

  “We’re not having a reception, so what now?”

  She shrugged. “Can we have a wedding lunch? Maybe a few friends?” She was hungry now, though she hadn’t been earlier.

  Dillon nodded. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” He looked at the small group of people still lingering, nodding to his oldest friend, “Kade…want to have lunch with us?”