Rom-Com Collection. Kristan Higgins
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Okay, that was a showstopper. The case for Jeremy’s heterosexuality took a serious hit with that one. “Justin Timberlake?”
“‘Rock Your Body.’ The video.”
Her mouth was open, she realized. She closed it. The JT song echoed in her head, taunting. Those damn white hoodies everyone wore.
Oh, no.
Thoughts bounced and zinged through her head, not quite registering. Her makeup must be ruined from crying. The dress was itchy. They wouldn’t have their first dance together. They weren’t getting married.
“You’re really gay?” she whispered.
He looked up and nodded, his eyes were full of tears, too, and it was idiotic, but she wanted to comfort him. “I thought that I...that I wasn’t,” he said. “I wanted a wife—you—I wanted kids, I wanted a life like my parents have, but...I...yes. I am.”
He covered his eyes with one hand and bowed his head.
From the first time she’d laid eyes on him, Faith had known he was special and gentle and wonderful. From that first second on, she’d loved him. He had never, ever let her down, never found her lacking, never spoke to her in anger or looked at her in contempt.
Jeremy Lyon was, above all things, a good, good man.
Without quite intending to, she reached out and stroked his smooth black hair, cut short for this day.
He looked up, his misery so obvious that it wrenched her heart, the heart he was breaking.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry, Faith.”
He leaned in close, so his head was touching hers, and they sat there another moment or two—or an hour, the uneven sound of Jeremy’s breathing as he cried, the soft pat of tears as they fell from Faith’s eyes to her dress. The reality of the future pressed down on Faith, the weight almost bearable at first. Her beautiful wedding wasn’t going to happen. No honeymoon in Napa, lounging around in bed with this beautiful man. Oh, God, the weight was pressing on her chest harder now. No black-haired children running through the fields of Blue Heron...no life with Jeremy, the only one who’d ever seen in her something that was special and rare and precious.
Jeremy had been proof that she was forgiven. But now there was nothing. There’d be nothing now.
“I guess we should call off the wedding, huh?” she said, and he gave a half laugh, half sob, then stood up and pulled her against him, pressing her face against his hard, muscled shoulder, and she hugged him as hard as she could, her throat aching with the sobs she wouldn’t let out, because it would break Jeremy to hear that, and she loved him too much to do that. He was the love of her life.
“I’ll leave town,” he said, his voice cracking. “I—I can move. I won’t stay here, Faith. I won’t do that to you.”
But he was the town doctor. Elaine and Ted had loaned him the money to buy Dr. Wilkinson’s practice. She’d helped him redecorate the waiting rooms, bought him the iconic Norman Rockwell prints, filled out the online forms so he’d have up-to-date magazines. Six months in business, and he was already thinking about hiring another nurse, because that’s how popular he was.
Already her head was shaking. “No. You’re not going anywhere. Don’t do anything. Just...you know what? Let’s not do anything yet, okay?” Her breath was starting to hitch. “Let’s...we’ll just...talk later.” Panic lapped at her feet, her knees, threatening to pull her under. She was going to lose it if she had to stay here another second. “This is all going to be fine, but I—I think I should get going,” she managed, looking at his chest. She risked one more glance at his face, and, oh, God, it really did feel like her heart was being ripped apart.
“Faith, I wish things were different,” Jeremy whispered. “I’m so—”
“I have to go now,” she said. She took a breath and bit her lip hard, and her voice came out in a whisper. “Bye.” There was a world of heartbreak in that one small word.
Into the bright sunshine that was an affront now, then into the dark cave of the limo. Some kind blankness was settling around her, thank you, God, and then Daddy was there, holding her against him, and her sisters, and Mrs. Johnson, who gripped her hand and said nothing. Jack was taking care of the guests, someone said, and Jeremy was talking to his parents.
She still had her bouquet.
No one said anything as they drove home. Blue, the half-grown Golden retriever she’d adopted from the rescue league a few months ago (because she was going to be married and therefore could have her own dog), greeted her joyfully, jumping up on her dress, and who cared now? Up the stairs—the photographer had taken her picture here just about an hour ago, back in the olden days.
Her bridesmaids—former bridesmaids—were close on her tail.
“Here,” Honor said once they were in Faith’s room. “Let me help you get undressed.”
“I think—I think I’d like to be alone,” Faith said. Wow. Her voice sounded so strange.
The three of them swapped a glance. “You’re not gonna kill yourself or anything, right?” Pru asked.
“Good God, no. Just...just give me a little while.”
Surprisingly, they obeyed, closing the door quietly behind them. Faith sank onto her bed, the tulle skirt puffing around her like dandelion fluff. There was her big red suitcase, all packed for the honeymoon, the tickets to San Francisco peeking out of the side pocket.
Hello Kitty ticked away the minutes from the bureau. She could hear the rumble of her father’s voice through the open window as he talked to someone. Mrs. Johnson was banging around in the kitchen—distress cooking, they called it when she was upset. From down the hall came the sound of Abby’s sobs—poor kid. Jeremy wouldn’t be her uncle, though she’d been calling him that for months now. Bragging about it.
Faith drifted over to the mirror and stared at her reflection. Her mascara was smudged under her reddened eyes, and her lipstick was gone. Face utterly white. But her hair had come out really great.
You know what else? She’d dieted for two months to get to this weight, even though Jeremy assured her he loved her just the way she was. Jeremy, who was gay. Gay men liked curvy women. There you go. Shoulda known.
This morning, Faith had been the luckiest girl in New York State, if not the universe. Everyone thought that, especially her. Now, at 12:44, she was the woman who didn’t know her fiancé was gay.
How could she not have known? They slept together. A lot! Okay, well, maybe not a lot, not as much as she would’ve liked or as much as her friends seemed to sleep with their boyfriends, but they’d been in college, hello? In separate states! And then in grad school, also in separate states! And then, this past year...well, still not so much.
Justin Timberlake.
Holy futtocks.
All this time, she thought they were happy. All this time, Jeremy, her wonderful, sweet, thoughtful Jeremy, had carried this secret alone.
Well. Levi knew. She guessed he’d told Levi.
She stood up and started to take off her wedding dress. It was impossible. All those damn little covered buttons and loops...Jeremy was supposed to have unbuttoned them, slowly, lovingly, and you know, yeah, she’d thought that once they were married and getting pregnant would be a joy and not an oops, their sex life would take off. It had always been fine. It’d been fine! But marriage, she’d just known, would only improve it.
Here she’d been lying naked with Jeremy Lyon, totally in love, believing him when he said she was beautiful and perfect, when he’d been thinking of Justin Timberlake dancing around in a hoodie. And while that was an entirely appealing image, the man