The Wedding by Nicholas Sparks Read Free Book Online Page A

see her again. Hours later, while studying that evening, her words continued to echo through my mind.
    It’s okay, Wilson , she had said. I happen to like shy.   Unable to concentrate, I set my book aside and rose from the desk. I had neither the time nor the desire for a relationship, I told myself, and after pacing around the room and reflecting on my hectic schedule—as well as my desire to be financially independent—I made the decision not to go back to the diner. This wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the right one, I thought, and resolved to think no more on the subject.
    The following week, I studied in the library, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t see Jane. Each and every night, I found myself reliving our brief encounter: her cascading hair, the lilt of her voice, her patient gaze as we stood in the rain. Yet the more I forced myself not to think of her, the more powerful the images became. I knew then that my resolve wouldn’t last a second week, and on Saturday morning, I found myself reaching for my keys.   I didn’t go to the diner to ask her out. Rather, I went to prove to myself that it had been nothing more than a momentary infatuation. She was just an ordinary girl, I told myself, and when I saw her, I would see that she was nothing special. I’d almost convinced myself of that by the time I parked the car.   As always, the diner was crowded, and I wove through a departing group of men as I made my way to my regular booth. The table had been recently wiped, and after taking a seat, I used a paper napkin to dry it before opening my textbook.   With my head bowed, I was turning to the appropriate chapter when I realized she was approaching. I pretended not to notice until she stopped at the table, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Jane. Instead, it was a woman in her forties. An order pad was in her apron, and a pen was tucked behind her ear.   “Would you like some coffee this morning?” she asked. She had a briskly efficient demeanor that suggested she’d probably worked here for years, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed her before.
    “Yes, please.”
    “Back in a minute,” she chirped, dropping off a menu. As soon as she turned away, I glanced around the diner and spotted Jane carrying plates from the kitchen to a group of tables near the far end of the diner. I watched her for a moment, wondering if she’d noticed that I’d come in, but she was focused on her work and didn’t look my way. From a distance, there was nothing magical in the way she stood and moved, and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief, convinced that I’d shaken off the strange fascination that had plagued me so much of late.
    My coffee arrived and I placed my order. Absorbed in my textbook again, I had read through half a page when I heard her voice beside me.   “Hi, Wilson .”
    Jane smiled when I looked up. “I didn’t see you last weekend,” she went on easily. “I thought I must have scared you away.”
    I swallowed, unable to speak, thinking that she was even prettier than I remembered. I don’t know how long I stared without saying anything, but it was long enough for her face to take on a concerned expression.   “ Wilson ?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
    “Yes,” I said, but strangely, I couldn’t think of anything more to add.   After a moment she nodded, looking puzzled. “Well . . . good. I’m sorry I didn’t see you come in. I would have had you sit in my section. You’re just about the closest thing I have to a regular customer.”
    “Yes,” I said again. I knew even then that my response made no sense, but this was the only word I seemed able to formulate in her presence.   She waited for me to add something more. When I didn’t, I glimpsed a flash of disappointment in her expression. “I can see you’re busy,” she finally said, nodding to my book. “I just wanted to come over and say hello, and to thank you again for walking me to my car. Enjoy your