Cade re-entered the room, stopping in his tracks when he saw Della hugging me, her eyes puffy and her cheeks pink. “Is…everything okay?”
Della pulled away from me and turned to face Cade. “The wedding is off!” she announced.
“It’s…what?” Cade sounded completely baffled.
Della smiled in relief. “I care about you, Cade, you know I do. You’re a good friend to me and we’ve made a good team. But I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me. We shouldn’t go through with this. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but I think it’s time we thought about our own happiness for once, instead of just doing what our families want for us.”
She turned back to me and hugged me. “Thank you again, you’re a wonderful person.”
Then Della walked out of the office.
C
ade stared at the doorway, then at me, then back at the door. He was completely stumped. “I’m…uh…what did you do?”
I shrugged. “I gave her advice. She was crying and miserable, Cade, I couldn’t possibly lie and say that I thought she should go through with this. I told her that if she wasn’t in love with you that she shouldn’t do this. That she shouldn’t live her life in a way that made others happy. She should do what made her happy. And…I guess, I gave her the push she needed.”
Cade looked back in the direction from which Della had left. I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry for ruining your wedding. I just couldn’t lie to her and give her bad advice.”
Cade turned to look at me. His hand slid over mine, where it rested on his arm, and he squeezed it gently. My breath stopped. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be in touch once I figure out what’s going on.”
He smiled at me, released my hand, and left, leaving me wondering just how much of a mess I’d just made.
15
Cade
All hell was breaking loose at the lake house.
Turned out, Della had called her father right after leaving Laura’s office and told him that the wedding was off. Then her father had called my father, and neither man was pleased with his child.
Dad pounced on me the moment I reached the house. “What the hell is wrong with you? How did you screw this up? I can’t believe after everything I’ve told you, after all that we’ve planned—”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, trying to keep myself calm. “We were discussing music options for the reception. I had to take a phone call, so I left the room. When I came back, Della had called off the marriage.”
“Maybe the wedding planner sabotaged you,” Mom chimed in.
I glared at her. “You’re being ridiculous. How could one person that Della doesn’t even know convince her to call off the wedding in less than two minutes?”
Also, Laura would never do something like that, I added mentally. I couldn’t say that, or my mother would have questions that I couldn’t answer, but still, I felt it in my heart.
“What’s more likely?” I demanded. “That the wedding planner, who has her career riding on this wedding, convinced Della not to go through with said wedding? Or that Della already didn’t want to go through with this farce of a relationship any longer?”
“A farce!” Dad roared. “How could you have blown this so badly? You need to be married, preferably with a child on the way, when your campaign begins. Voters want a family man. And Della’s connections—how are we going to find anyone with half the clout?”
“Wow!” Anger flared up in me. “I knew you were a heartless bastard, but I never knew that you would be this bad. Don’t you ever talk about Della like she’s a cow to be bought and sold! I’m not in love with her, I never have been, but she’s a good woman, an amazing woman, and she deserves better than you talking trash about her. And saying that I should get her pregnant for my campaign? What the hell? That’s not the reason you have kids. Are relationships and parenthood all just a game to you? We’re not pawns or objects, we’re actual people. And if Della doesn’t want to marry me, then I’m not going to make her do it!”
“You need to convince her!”
“Why?” I demanded. “So that she can be unhappy marrying a man she doesn’t love? Hell, no! This was a bad idea from the beginning.”
Dad started to argue, but I cut him off. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but you’ll get over it. I’m going to give you the space to do that.”
It was the only way to really win an argument with my father—to cut him off at the knees and leave, refuse to play or engage any further.
I headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mom demanded.