Китайская кухня в рецептах и историях. Пэн Юй
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not looking for hush money,” Lucy said. “I don’t want anything from him. I just think he should know about the baby before he gets married.”
“That’s what the phone is for.”
“I need to do this face-to-face.” She owed him that much after the way she’d behaved. He didn’t want Lucy, that much was obvious, but this was his baby, too. She had no right to keep this from him.
“By crashing his engagement party?”
“I am not crashing anything. I’m going to talk to him before the party.”
What she hadn’t counted on was her flight being two hours late, which gave her only about two hours to get to Tony then get back to the airport for her return flight. Now she had no choice but to talk to him at the party. But she had no intention of making a scene. With any luck, people would just assume that she was another guest. A friend of the bride perhaps.
All she needed was five minutes of his time, and then they could both get on with their lives. If he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life, that would be wonderful. If he tossed a dollar or two her way every so often to help with expenses, she would be eternally grateful. If he didn’t, if he wanted nothing to do with her and the baby, she would be disappointed, but she would understand. After all, hadn’t she been the one to insist that they keep it casual? No obligations, no expectations. How could she then turn around and expect him to take responsibility for a child he never wanted?
Nope, nothing suspicious about that.
“Even if he wasn’t engaged, baby or no baby, that man would never marry you,” her mom had told her. “Men like that only keep women like us around for one reason.”
A fact she loved to remind Lucy of every chance she got. And she was right. Lucy had told herself a million times that Tony was too good for her, that even if he did want to settle down someday, it would be with someone from his own side of the street. And that’s exactly what he’d done.
She and Tony were from two very different worlds, and she had been a fool to ever believe that he would follow her to Florida and beg her to come back, to hope that he would miss her. All she could do now was try to pick up the pieces of the mess she had created. Which meant shelving her pride and accepting his financial help if he offered it.
Well, she thought, the mansion looming ahead of her, it’s now or never.
Heart in her throat, and before she lost her nerve, Lucy rushed up to the front porch and knocked on the door. Her knees felt squishy and her heart was pounding, but after a minute or so no one answered, so she knocked again.
She waited, but still no answer.
She was already off to a rip-roaring start. Could the individual who sent her the email have been wrong about the date of the party? Or the time? Or even the location?
And what woman in her right mind would take the word of a typed letter from an anonymous “friend”?
This one would. And it was too late to turn back now.
She tried the knob and found it unlocked. Why not add breaking and entering to her list of transgressions?
She eased the front door open, peering inside. There was no one in sight, so she stepped in, snapping the door quietly closed behind her. The foyer and adjacent living room were elegantly decorated and showplace-perfect. And too quiet. Where the heck was everyone? Maybe it really was the wrong day, and the cars outside were for another house, and a different party.
She was about to turn around and slip back out the door when she heard faint music from the rear of the house. String instruments. Maybe a quartet? She couldn’t make out the melody.
Thinking she might actually have a chance to slip into the party unnoticed, she followed the sound of the music, passing a spectacular dining room decorated in deep hues of red and gold with a table long enough to accommodate a small army.
The music stopped abruptly and she turned. Across from the dining room was an enormous family room with a stone fireplace that kissed the peak of a cathedral ceiling. Rows of chairs lined either side of a silk runner....
Oh. My. God.
This was no engagement party. It was a wedding!
What struck her immediately was the normalcy of it all. The tradition. The handful of wedding guests perched on satin-covered folding chairs. The bride with her long, elegant neck and blade-like cheekbones. Her dress, an off-white shift, was as simple as it was stylish, while showing off a pair of legs so slender and long, they brought her nearly to eye level with Tony, who at six feet two inches was in no way lacking height.
Speaking of Tony...
Lucy’s heart lifted the instant she laid eyes on him, then slammed to the pit of her stomach. In a tailored suit, his jet-black hair combed back off his forehead, he looked as if he’d stepped off the cover of GQ, but in a mussed, I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt way. Very much the way he looked the first time she saw him in the bar where she’d worked. And until that very second she hadn’t realized just how much she had missed him. How much she needed him. Until he came along last year, she never needed anyone.
So what now? Should she slide into one of the empty seats and pretend to belong there, then talk to him after the service? Or should she turn and run back out the door and phone him later, as her mom had suggested.
“Lucy?” Tony said.
She blinked out of her stupor and realized Tony was looking right back at her. And so was the bride. In fact, everyone in the room had turned and all eyes were fixed on her.
Oh, boy.
She stood there frozen, wondering what she should do. She’d come here to talk to Tony, not crash his wedding mid-ceremony. But she was already here, and the wedding was already disrupted, and running and hiding wasn’t an option. Why not do what she came to do?
“I am so sorry,” she said, as if an apology would mean diddly-squat at this point. After this, if he ever spoke to her again, it would be a miracle. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Yet here you are,” Tony said, his tone flat. He once had told her that he admired her spunk, and the fact that she had the courage to speak her mind, to stand up for what she believed in, but she doubted this was what he’d had in mind. “What do you want?”
“I need to speak to you,” Lucy said. “Privately.”
“Now? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m getting married.”
Oh, she noticed.
The bride looked back and forth between the two of them, her face pale, as if she might faint. Or maybe she always looked that way. Come to think of it, she bore an uncanny resemblance to Morticia Adams. “Tony? Who is this?” she asked, her brow wrinkled in distaste as she looked down her nose at Lucy.
“No one of any consequence,” he said, and did that ever sting. On the bright side, he would be eating those words very soon. Though that would hardly help to improve her situation.
“It’s important,” she told him.
“Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here,” Tony told Lucy. “In front of my family.”
Not a good idea. “Tony—”
“Right here,” he insisted, pointing to the floor to make his point.
She recognized that rigid stance, the look of unwavering resolve. He wasn’t going to back down.
If that was really what he wanted...
Head held high, shoulders squared, she unzipped her jacket, exposing the basketball-sized bump under her snug-fitting T-shirt, cringing inwardly as a collective gasp cut through the silence, reverberating off the velvet-covered walls. She would never be able to forget that sound, or the look on everyone’s faces for the rest of her life. If Tony had been aiming to embarrass Lucy or humiliate her, it had backfired. The bride was the one