Kaye Dacus - Stand-In Groom

“To what are you referring, madam? Please make sense!” What had changed from their stolen kiss after the wedding ceremony to now?

She pointed to the ring box. “Proposing as if you meant it. Saying you’re madly in love with me to manipulate me into marrying you.”

Cold anger flooded him. “Manipulate…? Anne, when have I ever tried to manipulate you? I’ve done everything I can to prove my love to you.”

She swiped at the moisture on her face. “I have to be the biggest idiot in the world. At least Cliff’s actions I can blame on immaturity and bad counsel. But you? All this time you talked about honesty, about how important it is to found a relationship on trust. And all along, you were just reeling me in like the catch of the day.”

“I have no idea to what you are referring.” Instinctively, he handed Anne his handkerchief.

She pushed it away. “No? Let me refresh your memory. You propose, and we both get what we want: I get a business partner, and you get to stay in the country.”

His heart sank. His phone call with Henry. She’d only heard one side. But she should have trusted him rather than jumping to erroneous conclusions. “Anne, you didn’t hear the whole conversation.”

“No. But I heard enough. This is why you’ve been avoiding answering me about the partnership—why you’ve kept me at arm’s length.” Her voice caught, and her face contorted as she tried to control her emotions. She shoved past him but stopped after a few feet. “I thought you really loved me. I guess you’re as good of an actor as your employer. I would have been better off if you had stayed the groom!” She composed herself as she turned to reenter the ballroom.

He should go after her. Explain. Make her understand.

But how could she accuse him of trying to manipulate her? He genuinely loved her. He would never intentionally hurt her.

She was too angry right now to listen to reason…and he was too hurt and angry to try to reason with her. He just needed to give her a couple of days to cool off.

Monday morning, George stopped in front of Anne’s office, surprised to see the CLOSED sign hanging in the window. Finally, she’d decided to take a day off.

He dialed her cell phone number as he walked back toward his car. No answer. Her cheerful answering machine greeting brought him the first smile in days. “Hello, Anne. I know you may still be angry, but I would like a chance to explain. Remember what you said about misunderstandings and communication issues. That’s all this is. Please call me so we can talk. I love you.”

When he hadn’t heard from her—or anyone else in her family— by Thursday, he decided to take matters under his own control again. Forbes’s secretary ushered him into the large office.

The dark look on the lawyer’s face told George everything he needed to know. “She told you her side of the story?”

“Her side? She told me what happened, yes. And to think I trusted you not to hurt her.”

“It’s all a horrible misunderstanding.” George paced the width of the room. “She overheard a conversation I had with my brother. He and I were joking around. I would never consider marrying Anne for a business partnership or a green card.”

Forbes nodded, his blue-gray eyes piercing. “Really?”

“Really!” He threw his hands up. “What do I have to do to convince you people?”

“Go home.” The words were growled more than said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You want to prove to Anne you don’t want to marry her just for a green card? Go back to England. Prove you love her and not just the idea of staying in the States.”

He sank into a chair and dropped his head into his hands. “Go home? I don’t have a home to go to.” If Henry’s apartment hadn’t sublet yet…

Forbes was right. He had to regroup, show Anne it was her, not this place, not her business, that he loved. “All right. I’ll go back to England.”

Forbes’s expression neutralized. “I’ll help you take care of things on this end—liquidating your assets, transferring accounts.”

“Thanks.” George stood and offered his hand. “Thanks for everything. Tell Anne…”

Forbes nodded. “I’ll tell her.”

On his way out, his phone beeped. “George Laurence here.”

“Hi, George,” Courtney’s voice chimed through the line.

“Hello, Miss—Mrs. Ballantine. How may I be of assistance?”

“George, Cliff is going to have to cut his trip short. They need him on the movie set earlier than they thought. He wants you to meet me in Paris this weekend. We’re going to buy a villa!”

He needed something to pay the bills while he tried to convince Anne. While this wouldn’t be as grand a gesture as resigning and returning to England to live in squalor while waiting, it would serve his purpose.

“Very good, ma’am. I’ll make flight arrangements this afternoon.”

The light clink of silver against china and the din of hushed voices reminded George of his very first meeting with Forbes. As a farewell, his friend had suggested dinner at Palermo’s, bringing everything full circle.

“I’ve closed up the house. Mama Ketty will check in every few weeks.” Emotion threatened to close George’s throat.

“I’ll take care of adjusting her contract. When does your flight leave?”

“Sunday afternoon at three, with layovers in Memphis and Atlanta.” He pulled a copy of the itinerary out of his attaché. “Here’s the schedule. I’ve given Henry your number in the event of an emergency.”

Forbes gave the schedule only a cursory glance before folding it and sticking it in his suit-coat pocket. “Six months is a long time. When I said to take time to prove your love for her, I didn’t mean that long.”

“I know. But maybe the distance will be good for us.” He grinned wryly. “And I do have all that vacation time I never take. I can be back in a trice if she decides she’s ready.”

Forbes chuckled. “She’ll miss you, George. She probably does already.”

“I hope so.” He handed his friend an envelope. “Can you give her this for me? I had to at least try to explain before I left.”

“She’ll come around. We’ll make sure of it.”

“You’re not going to interfere, are you?”

“Interfere is such a negative word, my friend. Think of it as encouraging her to reconsider her hasty and emotionally motivated actions.”

Somehow, that didn’t make George feel better. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You realize I’m just doing this because Meredith and Jennifer have already planned your wedding, and I hate to disappoint my sisters, right?”

“Right. Tell them thanks for me.”

“Will do.”

For the first time in his life, George didn’t want to leave a place. He had friends—no, family—who loved him. He’d made a life here in a few short months. He’d started to dream of building his future here. His happiness resided in Bonneterre, Louisiana… because Anne would never get on an airplane to go anywhere else. “Tell Maggie and Errol…” He shrugged, unable to continue. They’d welcomed him into their home and treated him like a son.

“I will.”

When they parted, George barely managed to hold his emotions in check. Forbes dropped him off at the hotel where he’d stay until he took the shuttle to the airport in two days. As soon as he entered the room, he hit his knees, begging God to change her mind.

“Miss Anne, are you okay?” The bride turned, her wedding gown swishing with the hidden whisper of the multiple petticoats holding out the bell skirt.

Anne dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “I’m okay. You look so beautiful.”

The young woman rested her hand on Anne’s shoulder. “Thank you for everything. I know it has to be hard with your breakup and all….” She bit her bottom lip.

Anne swallowed back new tears. “You’re welcome, honey. Now there’s a wonderful young man waiting in that sanctuary for you. Let’s get you married.”

As she had every night for the past week, Anne cried herself to sleep Saturday night. Sunday, she woke up with a migraine, gave in to her self-pity, and stayed in bed. Why had she been so stupid and let George walk away? She hadn’t heard the entire conversation. What if he had just been joking around with his brother? After all, George’s dry sense of humor was one of the things she loved most about him. The least she could have done was let him explain.

Her anger that night had quickly melted into embarrassment, embarrassment into shame that kept her hiding out, avoiding everyone, including Forbes, Meredith, and Jenn. Tomorrow she’d work up the courage to call George to beg his forgiveness. But she needed one more day to prepare herself.

Shortly after noon, a familiar pounding started on her door.

“Go away!”

The unmistakable rasp of a key in the dead bolt followed. “Annie?”

She pulled her pillow over her head. The bed bounced and gave beside her. “Go away,” she moaned.

“No. Enough of this already.” Meredith pulled the pillow off her head. “We’re tired of you moping around just because you’re stupid enough to let the best thing that ever happened to you walk out the door.”

Jenn pulled down the covers. “You’re going to get up, get dressed, and go with us down to Riverwalk for an ice cream cone.”

“I know I was stupid.” Anne pushed their hands away. “He deserves better than me. He deserves someone who’ll trust him.”

Jenn grabbed one arm, Meredith the other.

“Anne.” Meredith’s tone stilled her. “George Laurence loves you. We saw it the first time we met him. You love him, too. But you’ve treated him unfairly, and you should be begging his forgiveness.”