Turning to the next page, he saw that the amount donated was ten thousand dollars. That was no paltry donation. His eyes remained glued to the number, a nagging feeling prickling at the back of his neck.
Ten thousand dollars. That was exactly how much he’d left in cash for Gretchen when he’d stormed out. She’d said she didn’t want his money, but he’d forced it on her. Was this her way of giving the money back and proving she was the bigger person at the same time?
Julian suddenly felt weak in the knees. He wasn’t used to experiencing that feeling outside of the gym. He slumped down onto a stool at the kitchen counter and looked over the letter again. The timing was far too perfect for it to be from anyone else.
He was a jerk. He knew that now. The only reason she’d gotten involved in this whole mess was because she’d wanted to take that money and go to Italy. All the drama and the heartache were for nothing. She’d handed the money away along with her dream.
Julian dropped the letter onto the counter and squeezed his eyes shut. Gretchen was the only person in his life who didn’t want or need anything from him but his love and his trust. Without realizing the depths of his feelings for her, he’d given her both, then snatched them away, accusing her of terrible things and throwing cash at her as he left as though she were a common whore.
Picking up his phone, he dialed his travel agent. He didn’t stop to think or worry about what Ross would say. He didn’t care. All Julian knew was that he needed to get back to Nashville as soon as possible.
Once his arrangements were made, he started to formulate the rest of his plan. There were several hours before his flight, and he needed to make some important stops on the way to LAX.
He just prayed it wasn’t too late to make this right.
Twelve
The red-eye from Los Angeles landed Julian back in Nashville around sunrise on Saturday morning. He grabbed his rental car and tore off in the direction of the chapel.
He was expecting the place to be mostly empty given that it was just past 7:00 a.m., but the lot was filled with vans and trucks with vendor logos on the side. Wedding preparation apparently started early. Among them was Gretchen’s green sedan.
Parking his rental out of the path of the big trucks, he followed a man with a giant vase of deep red, orange and yellow flowers through the back door and over to the ballroom.
The room was bustling with people. There were men on lifts adjusting the lighting in the rafters, at least half a dozen people handling flowers, an orchestra setting up on stage, and a few people setting out glassware and other table decor. In the middle of all the chaos was Gretchen. Despite everything going on around them, his eyes went to her in an instant.
Her hair was curly today. He’d gotten used to her straightening it while the cameras were around, but now that their farce of a relationship was over, she’d let it just be curly again. Julian liked it curly. The other style was chic and fashionable, but the wild curls were more suited to the free artist he saw in Gretchen.
She had on a pair of dark denim skinny jeans with ballet flats and a sweater in a rusty color that seemed to go with the fall decor of the day’s event. Her back was to him when he came in. She was busily directing some activity in the corner where Murray and Kelly had placed their wedding cake.
With determination pumping through his veins and pushing him forward, he meandered through the maze of tables and chairs to the far corner of the room. No one paid any attention to him. He was only ten or so feet away when Gretchen finally turned around. As her eyes met his, she froze in place, clutching her tablet to her chest as though it was the only thing holding her on the Earth.
Julian smiled, hoping that would help soften the shock, but it didn’t. She did recover, but it only resulted in a frown lining her brow and tightening her jaw. He wouldn’t let that deter him, though. She was angry. She had a right to be angry after he turned on her like that. He’d expected this response when he got on the plane. But he would convince her that he was sorry and things would be okay. He was certain of it.
“What are you doing here, Julian?” Her voice was flat and disinterested, matching the expression on her face. The only thing that gave her away was the slight twinkle in her dark eyes. Was it interest? Irritation? Attraction? Perhaps it was just an overhead pin light giving him hope where there was none to be had.
“I came back to talk to you,” he said, taking a step toward her and hoping for the best.