Best Man Under the Mistletoe
Damn it. He promised.
Now, she stared up at him, unshed tears swimming in her eyes. “I thought after the wedding I’d tell you that I didn’t want to end things. Stupid, right? I mean, all this time you’ve chosen to side with your uncle.”
“No.” He gently took her by the shoulders. “I never sided with him. I got all of that in the mail after he died. Just two days ago.”
Chelsea broke free of his grip. “I’m not convinced that you had nothing to do with the first set of pictures, but let’s pretend I do believe you. These pictures should never have been here. You should’ve turned them over. If you care for me at all, if you truly wanted me to believe you were innocent, you wouldn’t have kept them.”
“I was going to give them to Nathan,” he insisted.
Stepping back, Chelsea wiped at her damp cheeks. “Then you should’ve told me the second you got them. You have no excuse for that.”
She was right. He didn’t, other than the fact he didn’t want to cause her any more pain.
When she turned away, Gabe’s heart clenched. “Don’t go. Don’t leave this upset. Stay. We can talk this out and then I’ll take you to the church.”
Chelsea’s shoulders straightened, but she didn’t face him again. “I’m leaving and I’ll get myself to the church. Brandee and Shane deserve this day to be perfect and I’ll not let you ruin it for them. After the wedding and our duties are done, I never want to see or speak to you again.”
It was difficult, but Gabe let her go.
Right now she needed space, and he needed to figure out how the hell he could fix this. Because he would fix it and he would make her realize that he was never that guy. He could never purposely cause her so much pain.
Though he had to admit beneath his denial and defensiveness, hurt started spreading through him. She actually thought he’d been capable of doing such heinous things. Maybe she’d never fully trusted him. Maybe in the back of her mind she’d always kept those suspicions in reserve.
He would have to put on a front for the wedding because Chelsea was right. This day belonged to Brandee and Shane. But if she thought for a second that he was just going to let her go and never hear from him again...well, she would be in for a surprise.
Gabe gathered the pictures and the letter and went out into the living room. Once he had them secured in an envelope, he laid them on the sofa table. Tomorrow he’d take them to the sheriff and be done with the likes of his uncle. Even dead, the man was ruining lives. Then he’d find out who the hell had assisted Dusty in obtaining the photos to begin with.
Padding barefoot to the kitchen, Gabe noticed the eggs on the counter, the pan on the stove, the bowl. His heart flipped and he gripped the edge of the countertop. She’d been prepared to make him breakfast. She’d found the pictures shoved in the drawer.
Damn it. He was a fool. He should’ve told her but, in his defense, he just hadn’t wanted her to have to deal with that mess any longer. He’d been trying to protect her, but all he’d managed to do was to crush her hopes further and to destroy the trust they’d built.
He had to find a way to get her back. Gabe had never given up before and he sure as hell didn’t intend to start now—not when this was the most important moment of his life.
* * *
Chelsea smoothed a hand down her gold dress and tried to forget the last time she’d had this on. She flashed back on the dressing room, on Gabe, his clever hands and magical touch.
Pain squeezed like a vise around her chest and she pushed the memory aside. She’d doubled up on concealer and powder, hoping to hide her puffy red eyes. Her waterproof mascara was definitely going to be put to the test.
When Chelsea had first arrived at the church, Brandee had questioned her, but Chelsea had just played it off as wedding tears.
Chelsea spun away from the mirror, not wanting to see herself in this dress. She could practically feel Gabe’s hands at the side zipper.
Would his memory fade over time or would she be forced to battle him in her mind forever?
Chelsea crossed to the adjoining room where Brandee was getting ready. It was time to get into full maid-of-honor mode. Pulling in a deep breath, Chelsea let herself into the room and gasped.
Brandee stood in front of the floor-length mirror, her gaze meeting Chelsea’s in the reflection. Chelsea had seen the dress, but now it seemed different. With Brandee’s long hair falling in simple waves down her back and the subtle makeup, she looked angelic.
“Can you help me with my veil?” Brandee asked, a wide smile on her face. “My hands are shaking.”
Chelsea offered her best friend a smile and crossed to where the veil hung on the back of a closet door. Carefully, she removed it from the plastic wrap and hanger.
“Squat down just a tad,” Chelsea told Brandee as she came to stand behind her. “Tip your head back a bit.”
After adjusting the pins to be hidden in the soft curls, Chelsea stepped back. “There. How does that look?”
Seeing her best friend smile in the mirror—no, she wasn’t just smiling, she was glowing—helped heal a portion of Chelsea’s wounded heart. Love did exist, she was absolutely certain of that. She’d just misplaced hers.