Two Weddings And A Bride. Anne Eames
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strip of sand but was surprised at the number of early risers already staking out choice spots. He stood there a moment planning his day—shave, shower, breakfast, then down to the beach. Tough duty. His cutoffs were on the floor next to the bed where he’d left them last night. He pulled them on, found his shaving kit and went to the door. All was quiet on the other side, but remembering yesterday he knocked loudly and called out her name. “Catherine.” Silence. Louder, he said, “Ready or not, here I come.” When nothing came back, he inched the door open a crack and poked his head inside. The bed was empty.
He pushed the door open all the way and saw the deserted room. The bathroom door was ajar and all the lights were out. He stood in the middle of the room, smelling her perfume, and realized he was disappointed she’d gone somewhere without him.
“Now look, Alley,” he lectured himself aloud, heading for the john, “a deal’s a deal.” They’d agreed to come and go as they pleased. Why did he care where she was anyway. He’d just go about his day as planned. If he ran into her, fine. If
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