After the receiving line ended, everyone dispersed for the reception at the Maple Falls Community Center. He saw Olivia heading for the door, and he thought about catching up with her. But what could he say? Sorry for being a schmuck? He was sorry for so many things—for letting work get in the way, for shoving her off to the side, and for being a coward and not calling her the first moment he’d had free, which would have been the very next morning after their coffee date and before he took a shower. He could have called her while he was in the shower. His phone was waterproof. It would have survived.
But most of all, he was sorry he hadn’t followed through. Because even though he’d set her aside in his mind to attend to his patients and other work responsibilities, he still felt her. Felt her lips on his, felt the way she’d sighed when he swooped her up and set her on his Audi so they would be at eye—or rather, mouth—level. Felt the warmth of her smile when she said she’d go out with him. Felt so many other things, some confusing, some demanding.
He felt so ashamed for ignoring her.
As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned before stepping outside. She was so beautiful in her bridesmaid’s dress—a pale green that complemented her olive-toned skin, with a demure neckline and fabric that flared a little around her hips. Her hair was swept up in a simple updo straight out of a classic film, and her light makeup made her look like a glamorous librarian—and that was a compliment.
He made a move toward her, then stopped, seeing the shields go up in her eyes. She quickly went outside.
It’s what I deserve.
The emotional part of him wanted to chase after her, but the logical part of him refused. There were still people in the parking lot, and he didn’t want to air personal business in front of any of them and risk being the next topic on the Maple Falls grapevine.
He was heading for the door when Harper appeared beside him. “Can you give me a ride to the reception?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. I just need to get my purse.”
When she returned, he held the door open for her. Thick, humid heat hit them, and he pressed the automatic start on his key fob to cool the interior of his car. As they walked, she explained that her Mercedes was in the shop, and that Rusty Jenkins, a local mechanic, was working on it. Harper was always easy to talk to, and as they left the church lot, he said, “I can’t believe both my sisters are married.”
“That means you’re next.”
He tried to be good-humored but flopped. “Stop sounding like my mom. Like I told her, I’ll get married when I’m ready.”
“Okay.”
Nuts. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. It wasn’t her fault his mother wouldn’t let up on bugging him to get married, or that the one woman who’d caught more than his passing interest wasn’t speaking to him—with good reason. “Sorry.” He fought for a smile, and this time he was on point. He explained that being teased at weddings for being single was getting old. She agreed.
He pulled into the lot of the community center, and they both got out of the car. “Thanks again for the ride,” she said.
“Anytime.” And he meant it. Helping someone in need, even something as simple as a six-minute ride to the community center, usually put him in a good mood. He wasn’t in the best of moods right now, but doing a good deed helped.
When they got inside, he saw his mother engaged in a conversation with a caterer that looked like it was quickly heading south. “Uh-oh,” he said. “She looks ready to pop off.”
“How can you tell?” Harper said. “She looks fine to me.”
“That’s the calm before the storm. Better go rescue that guy.”
“Good luck.”
He walked over and lightly put his hand on his mother’s back, his fingers brushing the gray silk fabric. Her dress probably cost more than his first year of medical school, and he figured the only reason they were having the reception in Maple Falls instead of at the Hot Springs Country Club was because Anita had insisted.
His mother continued to berate the young man about the color of the napkins. “We agreed they would be eggshell,” she said.
“That’s tan, right?” The caterer’s brown eyebrows flattened. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, if even that. “My boss said they were what you ordered.”
“As if!”
“Mother,” Kingston said, knowing she liked formality in front of others. “May I talk to you for a minute?”
She turned to him, as if just realizing he was there. “Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“Fine.” She glared at the young man, then allowed Kingston to guide her away. “I hope this is important,” she said. “The napkins are a disaster.”
“No one will notice them,” he said. His sister couldn’t care less about napkin color.
She glanced up at him. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“I know. And it will be. It is.” For Anita and Tanner, anyway. For himself . . . totally different story.
She smiled and brushed the lapel of his gray suit jacket. “You look handsome, as usual.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’d be even handsomer if you wiped that sourpuss expression off your face.”
He thought he’d successfully masked his feelings. He mustered a smile. “Better?”
“Yes.” A small frown. “Aren’t you happy for Anita and Tanner?”
“I am. I’m sorry, I was just thinking about . . . I’ve had stuff on my mind.”
She gave him a pointed look. “You know how proud we are of you, King, and how important your job is. But sometimes you have to set work aside and enjoy yourself.”
He almost laughed at that. He hadn’t thought about work since he’d gotten up this morning. All he could think about was Olivia. “Agreed. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You take your own advice and stop harassing the staff.”
She lifted her chin, diamond earrings dangling against her short, stylish silver hair. “All right,” she said, relaxing a bit. “Touché.” A gleam entered her eye. “You and Harper Wilson looked stunning walking down the aisle.”
“Mother—”
“Wouldn’t it be something if you married one of Anita’s best friends?”
He paused. It would be something, all right. But Harper wasn’t the friend filling his thoughts. “I have one more condition,” he said.
She frowned. “It isn’t like you to be difficult, King.”
He nearly groaned out loud. He hated being called King. What a pretentious moniker. And stating a second requirement wasn’t being difficult. Then again, when had he ever pushed back at his mother’s requests? Seldom, if ever. “No matchmaking. No mentioning my marital status. And absolutely no harping on me being utterly alone.”
Her perfectly groomed eyebrows compressed as she squinted at him. “I’m just concerned about you, dear.”
“I know.” And she did mean well. “Just let it go for tonight. Okay?”
She eyed him a little longer, then nodded. “I will.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Go have fun.”