The Wedding Party by Robyn Carr Read Free Book Online

said to her.
    â€œOkay. I’m not waiting for someone.”
    He smiled. He wasn’t bad-looking, with a nice shape to his face, curly hair and friendly brown eyes. A sharp dresser. He rolled his eyes heavenward. “Thank you, God.” He refocused on her face. “So, tell me your heart’s desire and I’ll bring it to your feet.”
    I must be getting old, Stephanie thought. Bar talk used to be fun…and now it only sounds stupid.
    â€œHey, Freddy,” Grant said, slapping a cocktail napkin down in front of him. “You meet my girl?”
    â€œYour girl? Shit. ”
    â€œFreddy, meet Stephanie. Stephanie, meet Fast Freddy.”
    â€œFred,” he corrected with a casual sneer directed at Grant. “Darlin’, if you’re mixed up with this guy, you’re making a huge mistake. Let me take care of you.”
    â€œWhat can I get for you, Freddy?” Grant asked. Grant had that look—narrowed eyes, forced smile, sunken cheeks. He was working on being polite. This was not a good sign for Stephanie. If Grant had appeared to actually like Fred, Stephanie might have shunned the man. But Grant’s dislike provoked her into overt friendliness. It was all about the way things had been going lately. The squabbling. The completefailure of compromise. The need to do something to perk things up, to get Grant’s attention.
    â€œI’m good,” Fred said, lifting his half-full glass. “Fix up the lady, here. My treat.”
    â€œYou think she buys drinks at my bar?” Grant asked with a mean laugh.
    â€œYou mean she’s really your girl?” he asked, incredulous.
    â€œReally. As in, we live together. Another Diet Coke, Steph?”
    â€œNo, thanks. So,” she said, turning her full attention and sweetest smile on Freddy. “How long have you two known each other?”
    â€œFrom the Stone Age, man.” He sipped. “Like, high school.”
    â€œJeez, I thought I’d met all Grant’s high-school pals,” she said.
    â€œThat should tell you something,” Grant said, turning away to serve other patrons.
    â€œHe’s always been the jealous type. I get all the girls. But until this moment it meant nothing.”
    She laughed at his absurdity. “These come-ons, Freddy. Stale. Old. Completely transparent.”
    â€œI know. I’m thinking of getting a writer.”
    â€œAh, the Cyrano de Bergerac syndrome.”
    â€œSpoken like a movie buff….”
    â€œEnglish teacher.”
    â€œNo kidding?” He seemed to relax into himself. “I’m a history major. I taught for two years. I really liked the kids, but the pay sucked.”
    â€œSo I’ve noticed.” She glanced at Grant and sawhim glowering. Her eyes went back to Fred. “What do you do now?”
    â€œI’m a day trader. Stocks. Commodities.”
    Her eyes actually lit up at the word day, but Freddy might have thought she was responding to trader. “Really? Sounds interesting. Tell me all about it.”
    Â 
    On the night Charlene and Dennis decided to get married, they changed a flat tire in the rain, traded their wet clothes for warm terry robes and then spent a quiet evening talking about the day’s events over a light dinner of hot soup and cold salad. “You go first,” she said to him. He, somewhat reluctantly, told her about an auto accident that had taken two lives—a grandfather who might’ve had a coronary at the wheel and a nine-year-old boy who wasn’t buckled in and upon whom the emergency team had exercised every gift modern medicine had to offer before they let him go. It was Dr. Malone’s first fatality as a pediatric resident.
    â€œNow you,” he said, and she skipped the Samuelsons and Stephanie’s remarks and went straight to her mother’s crisis. Tears threatened again. Charlene honestly didn’t know if she was going to get through this without