Life's a Beach (23 page)
Authors: Jamie K. Schmidt
Beach Happens
by Jamie K. Schmidt
Coming soon from Loveswept
Michaela Harris peeked into the church. It was full of people, half of whom she had no idea who they were. Business associates of her parents, most likely. She tugged up the bodice of her wedding gown.
Don't cry. Do not cry.
“He probably had a last-minute, urgent phone call,” Corrine said, in a tone that was supposed to be soothing. Her other three bridesmaids, Gerald's cousins, were smoking outside, arguing over which of her groomsmen they were going to bang at the reception.
“Your brother is never late,” Michaela said, not turning from the door. The people were already whispering among themselves and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of any member of the wedding party.
In fact, Gerald was almost pathological about being on time. He once gave her the cold shoulder all night because they arrived at a corporate function five minutes late. They had gotten stuck in traffic, but since Michaela had been driving, it was all her fault.
“He'll be here,” Corrine said. She patted Michaela's shoulder and then scurried out of the vestibule with her phone already in her hand.
Michaela wished her wedding gown had pockets. She could catch up on some emails to distract her from this fiasco. She glanced around, but she didn't see her purse. Her mother probably had it. There was no way in hell she was going to try and find her mother right now. She was probably having martinis from a flask with a few of her friends by the baptismal pool.
Not that kind of a pool party, Mom.
“Where is he?” Her father burst in, wearing his custom-fitted tuxedo, looking like a pissed-off waiter.
Michaela closed the door so the entire church couldn't hear him. “I don't know.”
She hadn't seen Gerald since he kissed her goodbye last night. He told her he was going to go back to his place and have an early night.
“Carl said he wasn't at his condo when he went to pick him up this morning.” The best man had been frantic and showed up at her apartment looking for him. It was her first clue that this day was going to go right into the shitter. Gerald's phone went to voice mail and he hadn't called any of them back all morning.
“Did the two of you have a fight?” her father growled, looming over her.
“No.” Michaela forced herself to meet his eyes and not step back as he invaded her personal spaceâwhich wasn't easy considering she was wearing a crinoline and her dress resembled a bell.
She had told herself that Gerald lost his phone or it was out of battery and he would meet them at the church. But he hadn't been here.
Her father sighed explosively and stomped around, opening up doors and glaring through them as if he expected Gerald to be playing hide-and-seek.
“We checked the hospitalsâ¦.” Michaela trailed off into a whisper when she realized she wouldn't be able to keep the tears out of her voice.
Her father stormed out of the room.
Thanks for the kind words and support.
But that was her father: more concerned about his own image than his daughter being abandoned at the altar. How was she going to face everyone on Monday? The jilted bride. She could see the smirks on the faces of her coworkers, and hear their “compassionate” platitudes.
He was a little out of your reach anyway.
If he's anything like his father, he'll be bald by forty.
You're better off without him. He likes younger women anyway.
He did too. His last girlfriend was a freshman in college. She dumped him for a bass player in a grunge band. Michaela's father set them up shortly after.
If Gerald was so unhappy, why didn't he say something last night? Hell, why did he even ask her to marry him if he didn't want to go through with it?
They were good together. The sex was predictable, but they were compatible. They were both attorneys, so they understood the long hours and the pressure. They both wanted to make partner in their individual firms. They were a good fit. It made sense that they get married. Both of their families had been ecstatic when they announced their engagement. It had been fun to bask in the glow of her father's approval for once.
Michaela looked at the clock on the wall. He was two hours late. Gerald was either dead or not coming.
Corrine came back in and handed Michaela her cellphone. “I think you need to see this.”
Looking down at the phone, she saw a text conversation between Gerald and his sister.
I can't do this,
Gerald had typed.
So much for the being dead theory.
You can. You just have cold feet,
Corrine had texted back.
I don't love her.
Michaela's knees buckled and she sagged against the wall for support. She took in a shaky breath. It wasn't a surprise. They never said those words to each other. They weren't emotional people. They were analytical. They liked numbers. Love was what you watched on television and movies. But it still hurt. He could have told her this last night. He could have saved her this humiliation. He might not love her, but he should have been her friend. He should have been here and they could tell their guests together.
She passed the phone back to Corrine, not bothering to read the rest of the conversation.
“I told him it didn't matter,” Corrine said. “That he was being selfish.”
Michaela flinched.
It did matter.
“I told him that he needed to be here,” Corrine continued.
“What did he say?”
Corrine sighed. “He's not coming.”
“No,” her father said, having just come back into the room to hear the last part, his face red and mottled.
“Dad, settle down. You're going to have a stroke.” Michaela held his arm so he stayed in one place. She flipped up her veil. “I think we need to tell everyone to just head to the reception.”
He shook her off. “Gerald Stone will be here. The merger won't go on without him.”
For a moment, she was amused that her father was calling her marriage a merger. It was an accurate description. Then she realized he was talking about the actual corporate merger between Harris Industries and Stone Mechanics.
“Wait,” Michaela said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if the Stones want my company, they have to take my daughter, too.”
Michaela reeled back in shock. “I'm not a pawn in your corporate machinations. You don't get to collect a dowry for giving me away. This is the twenty-first century. I am an attorney, not chattel.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
Michaela blinked at him. “My marriage has nothing to do with me?”
“Keep your voice down,” he ordered.
She flung open the door and swished out down the aisle as fast as her behemoth gown could carry her. The organ player started playing a hopeful few bars of the
Wedding March
.
“Can it,” Michaela snarled at him and the music stopped with a heavy pound on the keyboard.
“Michaela, stop.” Her father stomped on her train, but since it was eight feet long it took awhile to snag her from going forward.
She glared at him over her shoulder. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Michaela said to the people sitting in the pews on either side of her. “I'm sorry to inform you that Gerald Stone has decided to breach his verbal contract with my father. There will not be a wedding today. However, the Beach House has a wonderful cocktail hour startingâ” She looked at her wrist where she wasn't wearing a watch. “âabout now. So please enjoy a wonderful dinner and a Venetian table that will make you weep, courtesy of Harris Industries.”
Michaela whirled back and stepped on her own train. “Out of my way, old man,” she said to her father, pushing him back a few steps when he didn't move.
He only gaped at her in shock.
“Get me out of this thing,” she snarled to Corrine and her bridesmaids, invoking Bridezilla for the first time in her long engagement.
Her mother came sloshing in just as Michaela was stepping out of the yards and yards of fabric.
“Oh honey, what are you going to do?”
“I'm going to Maui,” Michaela said, padding in her high-priced underwear over to her mother. Taking her purse from under her mother's arm, she shuffled through it until she found her honeymoon tickets.
Ripping up Gerald's boarding pass, Michaela tossed that and her bouquet into the trash can. It might have been overkill when she dumped one of the lit candles on top. And had she been thinking clearly at the time, she wouldn't have stalked to her car in her corset and heels. Especially since everyone and their brother had a cellphone camera. But Michaela didn't care. She slammed her car door and screeched out of the church's parking lot.
Palekaiko Beach Resort, here I come.
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