The Everlasting Chapel by Marilyn Cruise Read Free Book Online Page A

sick to the stomach.
    “Scarlett, listen to me. Don’t let him bully
you around. If he truly has changed and loves you, he will wait. I
mean, are you in a hurry to get married to him again?”
    “No,” I say.
    “Then what’s the rush? You’re letting him
call the shots, and if he loved you, he wouldn’t force you into
anything.”
    “But…I…” I sigh. “I think I might want to
try again, too. Am I insane?”
    “Now that’s different. If you are sure you
want to give him a second chance, just stick to your guns. I’ve
always said, if it’s meant to be, it will be.”
    “Okay. Will you just help me—make sure I
actually do stick to my guns?” I ask.
    “You are a grown woman, and are fully
capable of doing that on your own.”
    She must not understand the effect Michael
has on me. I become completely helpless and lose all control when
he’s around. It’s as if he has some special power over me.
    “But I’d be more than happy to be your
cheerleader and talk you through it anytime you’d like,” she
adds.
    “Thanks,” I say. “I’ve arrived at Ophelia’s
now so I have to go. Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”
    “You know, dancing.”
    “Can’t you get Laila to give you a day off?”
I ask.
    “No. As you are aware, we’re one girl short,
so she’d never allow that. Especially on the weekend.”
    “Are you trying to guilt me?” I ask.
    “Of course. I miss you! The Black Chapel has
become The Chapel of Doom without you there.”
    “I miss you, too.” I don’t see her nearly as
much now that I’m working a gazillion hours a week. “Maybe some
other time then?”
    “For sure. Take care,” she says.
    “You too.” I hang up and head to work. The
restaurant is rather slow tonight, so I don’t make nearly as much
in tips as I normally do. Not that I need it, but there’s just
something about making my own money.
    I’m back home by eleven, and my father is
already asleep. I don’t like this new schedule, in fact, I’m
starting to hate it. I never see my father or Anne. Once the check
clears, I could technically just quit working. Except the benefit
of working at the Portland Museum of Art is that I get to stay
connected with local artists. The benefit of working at Ophelia’s
is that I make more money.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    6
     
     
    On my way to work the next morning, my phone
rings, and when I check it, I see that it’s Michael calling. My
heart speeds up. Shoot. What should I do? I told him I needed a few
days to decide, and here he is calling me the very next day.
    “Hello?”
    “Hey, Scarlett. It’s me, Michael.”
    “I haven’t taken you out of my contacts, you
know.”
    “Well that’s nice, but before you bite my
head off…I’m not calling to get an answer,” he says.
    “Oh…okay…?”
    “I wanted to see if you would accompany me
to the grand opening of a new business of mine,” he says.
    “No, Michael, come on. We agreed that we
wouldn’t do this,” I say.
    “I agreed I’d give you a few days to decide
whether or not you would give me a second chance. In the meantime,
there’s no harm in spending a few hours together, is there?”
    “Have you no boundaries?” I ask.
    “Not when it comes to you,” he says.
    Here we go again. “The answer is no. And
please, don’t call me again. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
    “Alright. But don’t leave me hanging too
long,” he says.
    “You said I could have as long as I
need.”
    “I did say that, but I miss you.”
    “Well, stop.” I hang up and throw the phone
back into my purse.
    I spend lunch with Spencer again, and this
time he brings a picnic basket with sandwiches, white wine, a fruit
platter, and pound cake.
    “Is this your way of getting out of me
paying for the meal?” I ask.
    “Absolutely,” he admits with a sly
smile.
    We find a small patch of secluded grass
behind the Portland Museum of Art building where he spreads a red
and blue plaid blanket.
    Since I did all the talking