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“More than good,” Stacey added quietly. “He knew my parents wouldn’t handle having a gay daughter very well. He preserved my relationship with them by letting everyone assume it was him who’d broken it off. I hated the idea of making him a scapegoat, but I suppose the assumption was inevitable. I was already in my wedding dress by the time I got the courage to tell him—to tell myself.”
“The picture of the deserted bride,” Jordan murmured, even as she felt a stab of defensiveness on Luke’s behalf.
“I don’t love it,” Stacey whispered. “He tells me all the time that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care…”
“Perhaps because he’d had some practice,” Isobel muttered into her wineglass.
“Hey,” Stacey said, just a tiny bit sharp. “You know perfectly well that the first wedding wasn’t what it seemed either.”
It was the opening she’d been waiting for, and Jordan took it. “You guys know why he left his first bride at the altar?”
“That’s not—” Stacey broke off when Isobel elbowed her. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Jordan slumped back in her chair as she tried to navigate everything Stacey and Isobel weren’t saying.
“Well, crap,” Simon said, sounding a little awestruck. “The first wedding’s not what it seems either. That’s why our boy doesn’t want to play the part of runaway groom. Because he’s not one. We’ve been chasing the wrong guy.”
“You’ll have to ask Luke about that,” Stacey said, her smile gentle but stubborn.
“Oh, believe me,” Jordan said, tossing her wine back and reaching for the bottle. “I fully intend to.”
Chapter 18
Simon ended up driving her to Luke’s house. She’d only had two glasses of wine, but she’d drunk them fast, and better safe than sorry.
“We’re here!” Simon said proudly, as though he’d just landed one of the Apollos instead of made a five-minute drive in which they’d literally not seen a single other vehicle.
And thank God for that. Simon was a dreadful driver.
“So, what’s the plan?” Simon said, turning to face her.
She stared at the darkened house. “It’s time Luke and I had a little chat.”
“Tonight?” he asked skeptically.
“He’s been holding out on me,” she mused, tapping her fingers against her knee. “He’s never once said that his runaway-groom reputation was unfounded.”
“Well, now, that’s shocking,” Simon said. “What with him being such a big fan of ours.”
“He kissed me,” Jordan blurted out. Not because of the wine so much as the need to tell someone.
Simon’s eyes went wide before he gave her a not-so-gentle punch on the shoulder. “You sly dog, Carpenter! Was it hot and against the wall? Please say yes.”
She turned her head away, and he laughed. “Oh God, it was! I was joking, but it totally was. Oh, this is delicious, darling.”
“Just…” Jordan reached for the door handle. “Can you be here in an hour to pick me up?”
Simon stuck his tongue into his cheek and studied her. “How about I wait until I get your text? Give me twenty minutes’ notice; I don’t want to rush my bath.”
She rolled her eyes and pushed the door open, stepping out into the quiet night. “Fine.”
“I wish hetero sex didn’t gross me out,” he called after her. “I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he pushes you up against it again.”
She slammed the door, thumping her palm on the hood in a Go away gesture.
She was not having sex with Luke. Not up against the wall, not anywhere. She was here for answers. Answers about why the hell he hadn’t just told her that he wasn’t a candidate for the stupid show, because he wasn’t a stupid runaway groom.
It wasn’t until Simon drove away that she realized how truly quiet the night was. Luke had only a handful of neighbors, and it was too late in the summer season for evenings on the deck sipping wine. The only noise came from night bugs and the quiet crunch of her heels as she made her way along the dirt path to the tired-looking mailbox with Luke’s address.
