For the next hour or so, he followed his mother’s edict and tried to enjoy the reception as much as he could. He worked the room, something that came easily to him, especially with the residents of Maple Falls. He’d grown up with these people, but as soon as he graduated from college, he’d moved to Little Rock and gone to med school. He never exactly reconnected with his hometown the way he’d fit in when he lived there before, and when his parents moved to Hot Springs after Paisley graduated, he was even less involved. But today he visited with everyone, answered their questions about his work, heard a few more compliments about him and Harper, and ended up dancing with her for the bridal attendants’ dance.
His duties were done. He would have left if he could, but his mother—and probably at this point his father—would never forgive him.
But he could get some fresh air.
He started to leave the main room, intending to go outside even though it was probably still ninety-nine degrees and 100 percent humidity. He was surprised to see Harper coming back indoors, and that gave him an idea of how to pass the time until he could make his exit. He held out his hand. “Dance?”
“Um, not right now. I hurt my foot a little while ago.”
“Want me to take a look at it?”
She waved him off. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“You should probably stay off it to keep it from swelling.” He looked at her feet. “I’m sure those heels aren’t helping.”
She nodded. “Thanks for the advice, Dr. Bedford.”
“Anytime. Just save me a dance at the next wedding. Maybe you’ll be Maple Falls’ next blushing bride.”
“Hey,” she said, feigning offense. “I thought this was a no-teasing zone.”
“No teasing me,” he said, glad to have some lighthearted conversation. “You, on the other hand, are fair game.”
She smirked. “Laugh it up, Chuckles,” she said, slipping off her shoes. They were back at the entrance of the main room, and she glanced at the bridal table where Olivia was sitting. Alone. “Olivia’s free. Why don’t you dance with her?”
The exact person he was trying to avoid, and he’d been successful most of the evening. He was sure she was dodging him too. He was about to tell Harper no, then realized he’d have to explain why he was refusing when he’d just asked her to dance. “Uh, sure.”
Wait. Maybe this was his chance to make amends. He wasn’t completely certain he could, but it was worth a shot. He walked over to the bridal table where Olivia sat alone, staring at one of the small vases of flowers that decorated the long table. He gulped, his palms turning damp. After another deep breath, he said, “Olivia?”
She looked up at him, surprised, then averted her gaze.
“Uh . . . would you like to dance?”
Anger flashed in her eyes, and it was clear she was primed and ready to tell him to buzz off. Or worse. But then she nodded. Perhaps she’d realized the same thing he had—better to let everyone think things were nonchalant between them than to draw attention. After all, he’d already danced with Harper, both his sisters, and Erma McAllister. No one would guess he and Olivia had any sort of history together. She rose from the table and followed him to the dance floor.
The song was a fast disco number, and they weaved their way to the center of the crowd. For a moment neither of them moved, and she spent the time looking in every direction but his. Finally, he started dancing. He wasn’t the best dancer, but he could cut a decent rug and pretend he was having fun. Not an easy feat when Olivia looked like she’d just eaten a bag of lemons, skin and all. Her feet barely moved.
This wasn’t going to work. He had to settle things between them, and he couldn’t do that while half of Maple Falls surrounded them, shaking their behinds to the beat. He took her hand.
“What are you doing?” she said above the noise of the music and dancers.
“Come with me.” He tugged, half expecting her to pull back. She didn’t, but her hand went limp in his as he led her out of the hall, through the small kitchen where the catering company was starting to clean up for the night, and to a hallway. Then he halted. He’d never been in this part of the community center before. Where was a private place they could talk?
“Kingston—”
He spied a door and walked toward it, still holding her hand. When he tested the knob, it was unlocked. He opened it and found a supply closet. Good enough. He tugged her inside and shut the door, plunging them into darkness.
Uh-oh. Where was the light?
“Kingston,” she said, her tone sounding like broken glass. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to scream.”
Frantically he searched for a switch on the wall. Nothing. What kind of closet didn’t have a light?
Suddenly he heard a click, and light spilled over the confined space. Olivia stood down from her tiptoes, and he noted the single bulb with a long silver chain dangling from it. “How did you know that was there?” he asked.
“The library has sponsored several events at the center.” Her tone was crisp as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, why did you drag me in here?”
“I, uh . . .” There went his words again, although he still hadn’t landed on the right thing to say to her. He’d just taken advantage of the moment to talk to her alone. He looked down at her. Even with her heels, she only reached his chest. He liked it better when they were eye level.
Like on my Audi.
He shoved away the thought and glanced around. When he saw a tall, old-looking stool a few feet away, he grabbed it and sat down. Now she was a little taller than him, but he didn’t mind.
She blew out a breath. “Kingston, what are you—”
“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry I didn’t set up a date. I’m sorry for being a jerk, and I’m sorry I missed out on the best opportunity of my life.”
“Wait, what?”
He inhaled, trying to remember what he’d just said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call—”
“No. The last part. What do you mean, the best opportunity of your life?”
He smiled. “A date with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s laying it on thick.”
It might have been, but he meant it. “Olivia, I really am sorry. I was so busy with work, I just . . .”
“Forgot. Right?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I did.” He was also ashamed that he hadn’t called her when he did remember, and he was about to tell her that when he caught her staring at him under the sallow light of the antiquated bulb. He couldn’t get a read on her. She was completely impassive.
“It’s okay,” she finally said, her tone as limp as an overboiled spaghetti noodle. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”
Good. She accepted his apology and didn’t seem angry with him. He should have been fine with that. Grateful, even, that she was so amenable. But her emotionless declaration bothered him, and he couldn’t end things on that note. “I disagree.”
Her eyebrows flattened above sharp eyes.
He stood, and due to the small size of the closet, only a fraction of distance separated them. “I think we could have worked out.”