30 First Dates (42 page)

"But—" she faltered. "But you…you
left
. You just left here, and then you acted like nothing had ever happened between us." She did everything she could to fight back tears. The strain showed in her voice when she spoke again. "And…you
stayed
with her, for so long now. And you've avoided me."

His expression seemed torn between panicked and mystified. "I am so sorry, Erin." His hands gripped hers more firmly, and he began unconsciously to rub her wrists with his thumbs. "I didn't think…I…I didn't realize. I knew how you felt about me, and I thought if I came on strong after—" He paused, still seeming perplexed. "I thought it would make it worse, that you'd never speak to me again."

Her mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't find words. As blind as she'd been, he was probably right.

He looked away from her, and when he spoke again his voice was a shade darker. "As for why I stayed with her for so long—" He closed his eyes tightly, and several seconds passed before he opened them again. "I was planning to break up with her, but then she—" His voice broke. "Then she was pregnant. I…I could never understand it. To be honest, after the night you and I were together, she and I weren't. At least"—he looked sheepish—"at least not often, not for a while. And she was on the pill."

Erin swallowed the lump in her throat, just staring at him, though the thought of him with Catherine caused some of the tears she'd been holding back to leak onto her cheeks. She felt like throwing up at the unnecessary pain she'd caused him, caused all of them. If only she'd admitted her feelings to herself that day in the park, if only she'd recognized them sooner.

Erin sniffled and then swiped both hands across her cheeks. "We are so screwed up," she said. She made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Ben relaxed his grip on her hands. His expression didn't change.

Erin took a deep, shaky breath, trying to get her emotions under control. He let go of her hands completely and looked away from her. "And then she miscarried, and that was hell. I…I wanted to break up with her then, but I wanted to do the right thing, and she was so…
God
. And then there's been all this shit with Ryan and Melody. But that's all through. We're over now." He looked so bleak Erin couldn't speak for another few seconds. Then she didn't say what she'd been about to say.

"Did you ever find out for sure if the baby was—" She couldn't force herself to finish the question.

"No," he said, still looking away from her. He put his head into his hands.

Erin thought about all their near misses, the many, many reasons they shouldn't be sitting there together at this moment. "We've been so stupid," she said.

"Yes, I guess we have been," Ben said, finally looking up.

He still looked miserable, and Erin realized he'd misconstrued her words. She put her hands back into his and felt his body turn toward her in response. She watched him until he looked at her again, down into her eyes. His didn't look hopeful, and her heart made a sympathetic leap.

"I'm crazy in love with you, you know," she said.

She continued studying him, watching his eyes slowly catch up with her words. His expression morphed from anguish, to confusion, and then finally to disbelief.

"What did you say?" he whispered. His fingers were tight around hers again.

"I love you," she said, articulating each syllable, her face close to his. "I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out, but I must have known in some way for—" She paused as his lips met hers for one intense moment. "Years," she finished in a whisper.

And then, because she couldn't help it, her fingers reached up and tugged the tangle of curls that brushed against his forehead. He was still staring at her like he didn't believe what she was telling him. But then he leaned forward and kissed her again.

"Are you jacking with me, E?" he asked in a rough voice.

She smiled against his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know."

She opened his mouth with hers and kissed him hungrily, the tension of the past few months releasing from her muscles so suddenly she felt lightheaded. He pulled her closer, his body so warm, almost feverish, and she moved onto his lap the same way she had that first night. And then she remembered that this time, they weren't there alone.

Erin smiled again, realizing there was no way Sherri was leaving her room tonight. Sherri, who'd known all along, who'd known what even she and Ben didn't know.

And then she realized something else. She pulled away against Ben's muffled protests and stood, moving backward and tugging on his hand.

He jumped up from the sofa and, keeping his hand locked around hers, followed her, seeming baffled when she turned not in the direction of the back hallway but toward the front door. She stopped beside the table in the entry and cocked her head to one side, looking at the lists Sherri had so meticulously crafted and displayed on their small stands. She picked hers up, along with the Sharpie that lay beside it on the table.

"What are you doing?" Ben whispered, glancing back and forth between Erin and the list.

She gave him a crooked smile and uncapped the marker. She checked off No. 23: Find Ben a woman, and then held it up and showed it to him.

He stared at it for a long moment and then laughed and swept her off her feet and into his arms. The foam board list clattered to the floor along with the pen as Erin's mouth met his.

"Damn straight," he murmured against her lips.

June 15: Date 31 and beyond

Name:
Ben

Age:
    30

Job:   
Genetics researcher

List:   
Fall in love, finally (aka No. 23: Find Ben a woman)

Well, readers, I did it. I officially crossed the precipice and landed safely on the other side of 30. It doesn't look so scary over here. In fact, I don't even feel older. Maybe a little wiser.

The past fourteen months have taught me an awful lot.

I've learned you can't always will life into the shapes you want it to fit into. I've learned that things you think you want might not be right for you, and things that look like mistakes might take you exactly where you're supposed to be. I've learned you don't have to get it all right on the first try (unless you're skydiving). I've learned not to judge other people, because you're every bit as screwed up as they are. I've learned what failure feels like, and I've learned to look at failure as opportunity and opportunity as success. I've learned what it's like to fall in love with your best friend.

In case you didn't figure it out from the header, I'm no longer looking for dates. I am head-over-heels, crazy in love—with my best friend, co-blogger, and first and last blog date, Ben. On that note I guess it's a good time to announce that I've turned down the invitation to be a contestant on
The Bachelor
. I'm not disappointed about it—in fact, I know I've made some lucky alternate Bachelorette incredibly happy. Also, I can't talk about it in great detail yet, and there's no guarantee the project will come to fruition, but it's looking like a different TV project is in the works for me. I'll share details as soon as I possibly can, but I
can
tell you that I'm in talks about doing some writing for television, so I guess that's the next big thing.

What's all this mean for 30 First Dates? Well, I'm not going to stop blogging here just because I've hit an arbitrary number. I've completed my 30 by 30 list, which means now it's time for 35 by 35. I don't know yet what that'll include, but I do know this time it won't be all about me. And there's something freeing in that.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to say thank you to my family and friends for your love and support as I follow this dream of writing fiction. Thanks especially to my earliest readers: Heather Hardison, Jamie Hopkins, Megan Cathey, Gretchen Ledgard, Jessica Babb, Angela Rogers, Emily Russell, Ashley Harris, Sandy Smith, Robyn Byrum, Jennifer Jacobson and Candace Maggipinto. Thanks, too, to my Moss Workshop cohorts and superb critique partners: Caroline Sposto, Emily Besh, Lee Williams, Kevin McLellan, Ann Saccomano and Lillie Simmons-Dear.

Thanks to my fabulous publisher, Gemma Halliday, for taking a chance on a newbie like me. Thanks also to Traci Andrighetti. I’m so thankful you replied to my message board post and I’m thrilled to be starting this journey alongside you.

To Maria Porter and Cindy Trail, thanks for your support. I’m lucky to have such amazing sisters. To Mom and Dad, thank you for loving me and for always being there. To Lance, thank you for being my first reader, for creating super-cool “writing incentive programs” and for supporting every one of my dreams. And to Colby, thank you for showing me what life is all about.

* * * * *

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* * * * *

Stacey Wiedower had barely blown out the candles on her 21st birthday cake when she took her first job as a reporter at a daily newspaper. She later followed her passion to interior design school and spent three years working at a firm with bizarre similarities to the set of Designing Women. Today she funnels that experience into her work as a full-time freelance writer, penning everything from magazine articles to website copy to a bi-weekly column called Inside Design. She also writes romantic comedy, and the zany characters she's met poke their heads into her stories from time to time. Stacey lives in Memphis, Tenn., with her husband, also a writer, and a son who's inherited their overactive imaginations.

To learn more about Stacey Wiedower, visit her online at:
http://staceywiedower.com

* * * * *

30 First Dates

* * * * *

If you enjoyed
30 First Dates
, check out this sneak peek of another romantic comedy from
Gemma Halliday Publishing
:

FALSE START

by

BARBARA VALENTIN

PROLOGUE

"My weaknesses have always been food and men—in that order."

– Dolly Parton

Of all the things to say to a bride-to-be on her wedding day, "You have no business wearing that skinny minidress with your full figure, and in a church!" isn't one of them.

But Mattie had other things to worry about besides her Aunt Viv's chiding. The ceremony was scheduled to start in two minutes, and the church, overflowing with three shades of fragrant peonies and more than a hundred well-adorned guests, was missing just one thing. The groom.

"I'm sure he'll be here any minute," Claudia, the matron of honor, promised with all of the sincerity of a used-car salesman.

Claudia never did like Eddie. When she learned the object of her baby sister's lifelong, one-sided crush had finally balled up and proposed, she made every attempt to hide her disdain. Almost.

"All people can be divided into two groups, Mattie—givers and takers. You are a giver. Eddie is a taker." Claudia said this so frequently, Mattie expected to see it cross-stitched on a pillow as a wedding gift.

Maybe she was right. Against Eddie's smoldering good looks and irresistible charm Mattie's better judgment abandoned her. Even now, with her stomach in knots, she still made excuses for him.

"Maybe he overslept and had a flat tire on his way to the church. And he forgot to charge his cell phone. And he's having another one of his migraines. And, and, and…"

Claudia rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

The dimly lit storage closet-turned-bridal-room at St. Matthias church felt claustrophobic even in the best of circumstances. Unable to pace back and forth to ease her anxiety, Mattie snuck a frantic peek into the church. Her wide-set eyes swept the pews like a pair of heat-guided missiles seeking their target, scanning the area in front of the altar where Father Bennet stood waiting. At his side was the one element of the wedding to which Mattie did not agree. In fact, she vehemently protested but to no avail.

Nick DeRosa. Why Eddie chose his estranged twin brother over any of his esteemed colleagues at his LaSalle Street investment firm, she had no idea. The awkwardness of their greeting the night before was matched only by its impropriety. Mistaking him for Eddie, Mattie had pulled his face down to hers and, with all of the exuberance of a jubilant bride-to-be, planted a passionate kiss on his surprised lips.

That he had the same chiseled Mediterranean features and wore his chestnut-colored locks in the same style as his brother's was hardly her fault.

That he kissed her back was his.

Hours later, as she was leaving the rehearsal dinner, Nick managed to confirm, if not worsen, the bride-to-be's opinion of him when she overheard him ask Eddie, "Why do you want to marry somebody like Mattie?"

Somebody like Mattie.

Taken out of context, that question could be twisted any number of malicious ways, and twist it Mattie did. But, given that she was less than a day away from becoming Mrs. Eduardo DeRosa, co-owner of a custom-built Gold Coast penthouse and a cherry red Ferrari, she simply added the insult to the already long list of offenses Nick had incurred against her over the years and filed it away for future reference.

Squinting at the spot in which the groom was supposed to be standing, Mattie discovered her veil did little to obscure the obvious. Eddie was indeed missing. She stared so long and so hard, hoping to will him into existence, that Nick frowned at her, glanced behind him, and delivered an awkward wave.