Three Brides, No Groom. Debbie Macomber
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Except Gretchen was beginning to doubt that there would be a wedding.
She stood at the far end of the sweeping veranda of her sorority house, out of view of her friends. Most were excitedly loading up their cars with another year’s accumulation of treasures. She could hear their tearful farewells, their promises to keep in touch.
Promises.
She held her stomach and raised her chin in an effort to forestall the brewing emotion. Her long blond hair cascaded down the middle of her back. Roger loved her hair long, enjoyed playing with it, brushing it, burying his face in it.
“Sweetpea?” The sound of Roger’s contrite voice came from behind her.
She’d always hated his pet name for her, but no amount of protest could persuade him to come up with another.
Standing directly behind her, he cupped her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Let’s talk about this, all right?”
“Talk?” Gretchen asked with a short abrupt laugh. As far as she was concerned they had nothing to discuss.
“You’ve got to know Didi doesn’t mean anything to me.” Now his hands were in her hair, lifting the thick tresses to his face. He wove his fingers into it and brushed his lips across her crown.
Gretchen’s eyes slammed shut at the sharp pain.
“It was stupid,” Roger continued. “I want to throw up every time I think about how incredibly stupid I was. My only excuse is that I was drunk.”
“You cheated on me with another woman, and I’m supposed to forget it ever happened because you were drunk?”
His hands returned to her shoulders and squeezed. “Didi’s always had the hots for me. You said so yourself, remember? I…I wasn’t thinking straight. I was with the guys, celebrating, drinking, and the next thing I knew, Didi was coming on to me. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ask anyone. She was all over me and…you know how those fraternity parties can get.”
Gretchen’s stomach clenched. “Don’t tell me any more. I don’t want to hear it.”
“But I have to tell you. I need to. This is going to stand between us unless you know it all. You’ve got to believe me, Gretchen, I’m as sick about what happened as you are.”
She said nothing, too numb to argue.
“Didi knows we’re engaged, but that didn’t stop her. I told her again and again that it was you I loved, but she wouldn’t listen. The next thing I knew she’d stuck her hands inside my clothes.”
“In front of everyone?” Gretchen cried in disbelief.
He hesitated, and when he spoke, his voice was barely audible. “We…we were in a closet.”
“A closet?” Gretchen nearly choked on the word.
“She was feeling me up, and, Sweetpea, I’m so very sorry, but I’m only human. I was…excited, and then she had her mouth on me and was saying things like she bet my uptown girl never did anything like this for me and—”
“I don’t want to hear any more,” Gretchen said again, more forcefully this time.
“But it’s true,” Roger whispered. “You insisted on waiting until we were married to make love, and I’ve respected your wishes. But I don’t think you appreciate what sexual frustration can do to a guy.”
“In other words this is all my fault.”
“No, no. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Didi. When I woke up this morning, I was sick to my stomach, knowing what I’d done. I couldn’t be sorrier. Say you’ll forgive me. I’m begging you, Sweetpea. We can’t let someone like Didi come between us. If you do something foolish, you’ll be doing exactly what she wants. The only reason she came on to me was to hurt you.”
“And you let her.”
He paused. “Let’s put this behind us, all right? Mom’s looking forward to you spending the next few days with her. All she can talk about is the wedding plans, and that’s exactly what you need to help take your mind off my unfortunate slip.”
So that was how he thought of infidelity, as an unfortunate slip.
“What do you say, Sweetpea?”
She pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I need time to think.”
“What’s there to think about? I told you everything. This isn’t easy for me, you know. I just bet Didi took delight in letting you know what happened. She’s just being nasty, looking to ruin both our lives. You’re not going to let her, are you?” The soft pleading quality was back, the desperation to make matters right, as if that were possible now.
“What did you expect would happen when you went into a closet with Didi Wilson?” she demanded, whirling to face him.
His bloodshot eyes revealed his shock at being confronted. “I…I was drunk.”
“Not too drunk apparently.” If he expected her to sweep his indiscretion under the proverbial carpet, she couldn’t do it, wouldn’t do it. Not without giving the matter a great deal of thought.
“The wedding’s less than a month away,” he protested.
He didn’t need to tell her the date of her own wedding. “Are you saying it’s too late to change our plans?”
“You wouldn’t! Baby, please, don’t do anything stupid.”
“Like you did?”
He let her words soak in before saying, “Two stupid acts don’t make a right.”
It amazed Gretchen how desperately she wanted to forget what Didi had taken such pleasure in telling her. The other woman’s timing didn’t escape Gretchen’s notice, either. While she’d been escorting her parents around Seattle’s tourist attractions, her fiancé had been doing who knew what with another woman.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Didi had hit her with the ugly details shortly after the graduation ceremony. Instead of getting to enjoy the sense of exhilaration and accomplishment she’d felt on receiving her diploma, Gretchen had seen her world fall apart when Didi cornered her on the front steps of the sorority house shortly after her parents had left for Canada and delivered her news.
“Mom’s waiting,” Roger pressed now, breaking into her thoughts.
“Then she’ll just have to wait. I told you, I need time to sort everything out.” Gretchen knew that his mother was not the patient sort. Stella Lockheart was a forceful woman who generally got what she wanted. Both Roger and his father