Rom-Com Collection

“You can shut up now.” Her jaw ached from clenching.

“Someday, you’ll be glad you didn’t marry him.”

“I’m thinking about kicking you in the nuts, Levi. Shut. Up.”

Finally, he did. Her eyes stung from tears, and more tears kept flowing. The paper towel she’d used to wipe her face was smeared with makeup.

Soon, she’d be away. She’d be away from horrible Levi, away from the town where everyone was talking about her, away from Jeremy and his beautiful eyes and happy face.

She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, was only aware that her eyes were burning, her head heavy. At some point, she slid down in the chair, and there was something under her cheek. A hand on her shoulder.

She woke groggily. Someone was shaking her gently. “Time to go, Faith,” a voice said.

Levi. Right. Her head was in his lap. She sat up, wincing. Felt as if she’d been beaten with a golf club. Blue was on his feet, tail wagging. “I took him out about an hour ago,” Levi added.

“Passengers in first class may begin boarding,” the airline person was saying. “This is American Airlines flight 1523, direct to San Francisco. First-class passengers, please begin boarding.”

Thank God. She stood up, adjusted her shirt and ran a hand over her head. She’d forgotten to take her hair down; it was still in the complicated and beautiful twist from this morning.

Levi stood as well, and she managed to look as far as his chin. “Tell him I’m doing all right, okay?” she said, then tightened her grip on the dog’s leash.

“Lie, you mean?” he said, with a small flash of a grin.

She didn’t return it. “Yeah.” She took the handle of her suitcase and started over to the gate.

“Faith?”

She looked back at him.

His brows were drawn, his face serious. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out the way you wanted.”

Said the man who ruined her wedding. “Take care of yourself, Levi,” she said wearily. “Don’t get hurt over there.”

And with that, she and her dog boarded the plane.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FAITH STOPPED OUTSIDE of Hugo’s and did a quick pass of her hair, licked her dry lips and tried to ignore the stomach cramps that had been knifing through her since she woke up at four this morning.

There he was. She could see him through the restaurant’s glass door, standing by the maître d’s desk, waiting for her. His hair was shiny as a crow’s wing, like his mom’s, his back to her, as he was talking to someone. Oh, crap, it was Jessica Dunn. Great. No one made her feel less attractive than Jessica, who probably had never even heard of Microfiber Slim-Nation undergarments.

Faith had dressed for the occasion, oh, yes. One does not meet one’s gay ex-fiancé without looking fantastic. Her cutest San Francisco dress, a bright yellow confection with good seaming and tulle flowers bunched along the hem. In SF, it had seemed like sunshine itself; now, seeing Jessica dressed in black skinny jeans and a black V-neck sweater, Faith felt like a giant kindergartener. Well. At least she had on slutty shoes.

Now or never, Faith, her brain instructed, sounding like Mrs. Linqvest, who’d often whipped out stories of Eve’s pain in childbirth to better terrorize the kids. Faith opened the door, the handle cold in her damp palm.

Jeremy turned around, and his eyes went soft. “Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi there, stranger,” she said, her voice sounding false. Then she hugged him, and oh, crikey, he felt so good. Three and a half years apart, and she remembered everything about him, how they fit together, her cheek against his shoulder, the hard, smooth muscles of his back, the soft brush of his hair against her cheek, the smell of Old Spice (again...how could he be gay and wear Old Spice? Or had that been a clue?).

She’d loved him so much. The best man she knew...and the man who’d lied to her for years. Who’d allowed her to think they’d have everything.

Faith pulled back and gave him a smile, which shook a little at the corners. Jeremy’s eyes were wet, too.

“You got even more beautiful,” he said a little unsteadily.

The words caused the lump in her throat to swell. “And you haven’t changed a bit.” But he had, a little. There was a sadness around his eyes, and a few very appealing crow’s-feet had sprung up, making him even more handsome.

“Hi, Faith,” Jessica said, a tinge of impatience in her voice, like she’d had enough of the reunion.

“Hi, Jess. Nice to see you.”

Jess cocked an eyebrow. Really, she and Levi had been the perfect couple. Maybe they could go into business. Condescending Looks, LLC. “Come on, I have your old table for you.” She led them through Hugo’s to the table by the window. Jeremy held her chair, just like old times. Jess handed them menus like she was giving out Oscars, then asked if they knew what they wanted to drink.

“How about a bottle of the Fulkerson dry Riesling?” Jeremy said. “Got any left?”

“We do.”

Jeremy smiled at Faith. “They beat us out of the platinum last year. Don’t tell my parents I ordered it. They’ll kill me.”

A twinge of nervous irritation zipped through her. The man had left her on the altar; now he wanted to joke about wine like they were old chums. Out on the lake, boat lights winked and bobbed. The hum of the restaurant patrons made the silence between them a little less awkward.

Her lessons on dressing well seemed to have stuck with Jeremy; he looked like a model for Ralph Lauren now, a red V-neck sweater over a cream-colored button down, dark washed jeans. His hair was a little shorter than it used to be, and it suited him.

“So Levi told me he’s seen you a couple times,” he said.

“Yes. Good old Levi,” Faith said, managing to keep the snark out of her voice. “You two are still close?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jeremy put the napkin in his lap, then took a deep breath. “I’ve been really nervous about seeing you,” he admitted. “I woke up at four this morning.”

So they’d been awake at the same time. Funny, that.

“It’s been a while,” she said, surreptitiously wiping her damp hands on her napkin.

Jeremy pressed his lips together. “I guess I was a little worried about how you’d feel. If you’d slap my face or throw your drink at me.”

“Hi, Dr. Lyon!” called a plump woman with pinkish hair. “My knee is so much better! It should be, with all the fluid you drained out of it!”

“Oh, good, Dolores. Glad to hear it.”

“Two hundred cc’s! I think I hold a record!” the woman said gleefully.

“Could be.” He glanced at Faith. “Sorry. Where were we?”

“Drink-throwing and slaps,” she said. “Thanks for the ideas.”

Jeremy gave a crooked smile and rubbed his chin. “Can we get that out of the way? Do you hate me?”

“No, Jeremy. Of course not. I told you that, right after the wedding. A few times. More than a few.”