Four Weddings and a Fiasco: The Wedding Caper by Patricia McLinn Read Free Book Online Page B

Mrs. Cavendish cooed from the register.
    “We’re ready,” K.D. said, sidestepping him neatly.
    “Pity,” he murmured as he followed her toward the register with a final glace at what little covered the mannequin. “A real pity.”

CHAPTER NINE
     
    S till muttering about his buying all those “unnecessary” clothes, K.D. refused his help taking the purchases upstairs to her room. She said she was going to hang them up right away, then be down for their next study session.
    Eric went in search of Myrna. She was in his kitchen, apparently having tossed something in the garbage.
    “What are you doing?” he asked mildly.
    “Throwing out bananas.”
    He came around the island, heading for the can under the sink. “Hey, I just bought those. Why would you throw them out?”
    “This,” she said — not the least bit mildly, “is precisely the sort of thing that could trip you up and blow the whole thing.”
    “Bananas?”
    “K.D. hates them. Hates everything about them. Can’t stand to have them around.”
    “What makes you think that?”
    “I know it, because she told the crew at the Rose Chalet, and they told me.”
    Why didn’t she tell me
? Stupid. He knew it was stupid.
    “Can’t even stand to look at them, much less have someone eat one in front of her. Here she comes. Good thing you have me around.”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.’’
    ****
    K.D. wasn’t sure she’d ever worked harder. Not this kind of work, anyway. Thinking of all the likes and dislikes that were such an automatic part of her that she forgot them, writing them down, sharing them with Eric, then memorizing his list.
    And that was the easy part.
    Because the other area they tackled was issues in their “marriage.”
    After eating the takeout dinner Eric had gotten, they sat at the island listing ways they could disagree about topics Myrna labeled as: Having Kids, Trust, Communication, and Extended Family.
    Myrna left. They kept working.
    Around ten, Eric stood, stretching his long frame. “Let’s take a break. Want some ice cream?”
    “That sounds good.”
    He got a carton of butter pecan from the freezer. Without turning around from taking down two dishes, he asked, “Want a banana on top? I like mine like that.”
    “No, thanks.” She switched sheets of paper, looking for the date he graduated from college. Why could she not remember that?
    He thunked the filled bowls and a pair of spoons on the counter.
    She glanced at them, then at him. “No banana?”
    “No. There are no bananas left in my house.”
    She frowned slightly. “I don’t— Oh. Because of me? I’m sorry —”
    “Don’t apologize for that. I don’t give a damn about having bananas in the house or not. But why didn’t you tell me?”
    “I didn’t think about it.”
    “You thought to tell everybody at the Rose Chalet about it. And this is exactly the sort of thing that could trip us up.”
    “I did not tell everybody at the Rose Chalet. I happened to mention it in the course of a conversation.”
    “You could blow this whole thing if you keep holding back parts of yourself.”
    Her building irritation ebbed.
    You could blow this whole thing if you keep holding back parts of yourself.
    That’s what his ex-wife had done. Holding back parts — many parts — of herself. He’d never said it that directly, but it hadn’t been hard to pull that conclusion together from the fragments he’d let fall and the bigger chunks Myrna had contributed.
    “We can’t possibly tell each other everything. We can only try to hit the highlights.” She touched his arm below his rolled-back sleeve. The skin was warm, the muscle under it strong. “Is this our first fight?”
    He seemed to catch himself. At her touch? Or in response to her point? “You’re right. We can’t tell each other everything. But we need to share the sort of things that could trip us up.”
    “We can cover things like that on the fly if there’s a slip up. Because there are bound to me. There