Rom-Com Collection

Then Ian kissed the top of Laura’s head and stepped back, still holding her by the shoulders. “You look so beautiful,” he said, smiling a little.

She took a shuddering sob.

“Oh, come on,” Ian murmured. “No tears. This is a happy day. Besides, you’re running late.”

“Leave it to you to keep an eye on the clock.”

He grinned. “Well, Devin’s waiting in there, so … better get moving.”

Her face scrunched, and she fished a tissue out of her sleeve. “Thank you, Ian,” she said wetly, wiping her eyes. Then a door opened on the other side of the foyer, and an older gentleman in a tux came in. His eyebrows bounced up when he saw Ian.

“Ian! Good to see you, son,” he said, shaking hands.

“John. Nice to see you, too.”

“Everything okay out here?” the man asked Laura.

She smiled, straightened her father’s boutonniere. “Everything’s great, Dad,” she said. “Let’s go.” She gave Ian one more smile.

“See you in there,” Ian said. He opened the door—sure, that one was unlocked—and ushered me in. A few people glanced back, and a collective murmur went up. Some nudging occurred. Ian ignored them. We found an unoccupied pew behind all the other guests and took our seats.

The lump in my throat was killing me. As the organ music started, I slipped my hand into Ian’s.

After a second, he looked at me, as if surprised. Then he reached into his jacket pocket with his free hand and withdrew a handkerchief, because of course, I was crying.

“What you did in there was just beautiful,” I whispered, taking a little shuddering breath.

“Get a grip, Callie,” he muttered.

“That was the first thing you ever said to me,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I’ll tell our children about that someday.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling, and he squeezed my hand. Didn’t let go, either.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IN THE RECEIVING LINE, Laura hugged and kissed Ian, then turned to me. “Callie! Thank you so much for coming! I’m so glad you did.”

“Congratulations,” I said, smiling. I couldn’t help liking her.

“And oh, my God, that dress!” she exclaimed.

I smiled modestly, but hiked the hem up so she could see my shoes.

“Don’t tell me … Manolo?” she said in the hushed and reverent tone the shoes deserved.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “And I got them on clearance for only—”

“Okay, let’s move along,” Ian grumbled, giving me an ungentle nudge. He stood in front of the other bride. “Devin. Best wishes.” His voice was cool.

“Ian. Hello.”

My eyebrows raised. Well, of course they’d hate each other. Devin turned to me. She was wearing a cream-colored Hillary Clinton–style pantsuit (the horror, the horror) and no makeup, a far cry from her stylish and ultrafeminine new wife. Still, she was quite attractive in that good-bone-structure way. “So you’re Ian’s date, huh?” she asked, looking me up and down.

“We’re friends,” I corrected, suspecting he would if I didn’t. “Nice to meet you.”

At the end of the line, Ian introduced me to Laura’s parents. “John, Barb, this is Calliope Grey, a friend of mine from Georgebury. Callie, these are my … uh, Laura’s parents.”

The mother shook my hand. “Well, we certainly never saw this day coming,” she said, still holding onto my hand. “We were hoping for grandchildren.”

“You never know. They can always adopt,” I said. “My sister adopted both her girls.”

“We always thought Ian would make a wonderful father. He was so good to Laura, and honestly, he couldn’t have been—”

“That’s enough, Barb,” Laura’s father said. “Nice to meet you,” he said to me. “We’ll see you at the reception.”

“So,” I said once we were in the car. Ian put the key in the ignition. “I take it you weren’t the only one surprised by Laura’s, um … sapphic tendencies?”

Ian rubbed his eyes. “No. Her parents were just as … I guess Devin was the only one who … Can we not talk about this, Callie?”

“Sure. I’m sorry, Ian. Shall we stop for a drink first? A primal scream, maybe? Want to kick something?”

Ian tipped his head back against the headrest. “Maybe you could just … be quiet for a while.”

“Sorry,” I whispered, chastened. “I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“I don’t need cheering up,” he said. He started the car and pulled away from the curb, then glanced at me. “The hand-holding was nice, though.”

I waved my hand in the air. “Available whenever you need it. All part of the date package,” I said.

“We’re not on a date,” he said.

I sighed. “Right. Just friends.” Then, determined to give the man some peace, I shut my mouth.

The reception was at some old mansion on a hill. A wall of windows overlooked a long, sloping field. The sun sank into the horizon with an obligingly magnificent show of color. Candles flickered everywhere, the flower arrangements were opulent and waiters circulated with trays of cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. Pretty much exactly what I’d want for my own wedding, should that happy day ever occur.

Ian knew a lot of the guests, of course, and was doing his best to be sociable. But his shoulders were tight, and he wasn’t smiling or talking much. One couldn’t blame him. Even outside his ex-wife’s wedding, he didn’t smile or talk that much. Well. Ian certainly had other qualities. Like possibly the biggest heart in all of New England, if not the Eastern Seaboard. How many men would do what he was doing now?

There was much speculation, of course. Here he was, not only at Laura’s wedding, but at her wedding to a woman, to the other woman, for that matter. As Ian exchanged stiff pleasantries with people from his old life, I put my eavesdropping skills to use. There were plenty of “That poor slob, how could he not know?” comments. If Ian overheard any, he didn’t say a word.

Some people were happy to see him. He got a few hugs, a few cheek pats. Laura’s aunt, a portly woman who clutched a fox terrier in her arms, pinned us in one corner. “Kato here keeps pooping in the dining room, don’t you, snooky-bear? Ian, can you take a look at him?”

“Uh … sure, Dolores,” Ian said.

Now perhaps was a good time to hit the ladies’ room, as my gown and Dr. Rey’s Shapewear required some forethought.

“Back in a flash,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. He gave me a stiff nod, then turned back to Kato, who bared his tiny teeth and snarled adorably.

Five minutes later, as I was in the stall, wrestling Dr. Rey’s Shapewear back over my thighs, I heard Ian’s name again. And this time, the person wasn’t quite so kind in her assessment.