Chapter 5
Jessica heard Eric call after her, but instead of stopping she quickened her pace, all her thoughts focused on one thing.
Escape.
She needed to put as much distance between herself and her mother and Kelley before she completely fell apart.
Snatching her parka from the coatrack, she dashed outside without pausing to don the garment. A gust of snow-laden, frigid wind pelted her and she gasped at the sudden change in temperature. At least six inches of fresh snow lined the path and the bitter-cold air seemed to snatch the oxygen from her lungs. Without breaking her stride, she struggled into her coat and mittens and tried to calm her rapid, shallow breathing-the first warning sign of the anxiety attack she felt gripping her in its talons. Just relax. Breathe deep.
Damn it, she hated feeling like this. Out of control, her heart thumping so hard and fast she could hear the staccato beats echoing in her ears. Her throat tightening, her fingers tingling from her too-fast shallow breaths, the tension constricting her muscles, the shivering that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d suffered such attacks after her father died, when the grief had relentlessly choked her, but she hadn’t experienced one in several years. Until her engagement. Sadly, since then, she’d been forcibly reminded several times of exactly how they felt. Just like this. Like walls closing in on her and a mounting sense of being overwhelmed.
She needed to lie down, close her eyes until the feeling passed. She felt like a coward running out like that, leaving Eric to deal with the fallout, but, God, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to be diplomatic. Polite. But her mother was driving her insane. And whatever last nerve Mom wasn’t stomping on, Kelley trampled over. Sitting between them, she’d felt as if a big red bull’s-eye were painted on her. Her mother had been overbearing and rude, while Kelley’s manner was demanding and brusque. Maybe she would have been able to stomach the tension, endure the discussion-translation: argument-to its end if she hadn’t seen the wedding dress.
A half humorless laugh, half sob escaped her and she briefly squeezed her eyes shut, only to nearly stumble on the snowy path. The dress that her mother declared was perfect. Maybe-for some bride, somewhere, but absolutely not for her. That dress wasn’t just a no, it was a hell no. Naturally her mother had disagreed. And then informed her that she’d already ordered it-because it was soooo perfect.
That’s when all her pent-up anger had erupted like Vesuvius. If she hadn’t left she would have lashed out and said things she’d regret once her temper cooled. She’d learned the hard way that things said in anger could wound deeply. And they could never be unsaid.
The memory slammed into her-the stupid, typical argument between a fourteen-year-old know-it-all girl and her aggravated father over too much time spent on the phone and not enough on homework. Angry words shouted out of teenage rebellion. And two days later, with the argument and her resentment still simmering between them, a heart attack. Her father was gone in the blink of an eye. The last words spoken between them had been said in anger. Eleven years later the memory still tore at her.
And so she’d escaped the lounge. Before regrettable words could be spoken-although she’d left a few seconds too late. I’ll just show up at the church. Or, damn it, maybe I won’t.
The words had slipped out before she could stop them. She hadn’t meant them. Or had she? She couldn’t deny that at that moment, she had. Coward that she was, she hadn’t paused to look at Eric, but she’d sensed he’d gone perfectly still. And the same question that had plagued her for the last four months again raced through her mind: how in God’s name could she resolve this mess and still keep her relationships with both Eric and her family?
She saw the cabin in the distance through the thickly falling snow and with a sense of relief, she quickened her pace. When she reached the door, she turned and saw Eric’s bright red parka just now emerging from the lodge. Clearly he’d exchanged a few words with Mom, Marc and Kelley. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what those words were. Or what she’d say to him when he reached the cabin. She’d have less than ten minutes before he arrived to compose herself and she’d need every second of it.
As soon as she’d closed the door behind her, she yanked off her coat and let it fall to the floor. After jerking off her snow-encrusted boots, she immediately climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Shivering, she closed her eyes, tears leaking, unstoppable, from beneath their lids to slip down her chilled cheeks as she forced herself to empty her mind and concentrate on the slow, deep breathing exercises she’d learned after her father’s death.
After a few minutes the tension and tingling sensation started to ease from her limbs. Her throat felt less tight, her breathing more regulated. Another few minutes and the anxiousness passed, leaving weariness and relief in its wake. She’d just sat up when Eric opened the door.
The instant his serious and concern-filled blue gaze locked on hers, a fresh supply of tears welled in her eyes. Damn it, this was supposed to be a happy time. Looking forward to their future together. Not fraught with all this gut-wrenching stress and hair-yanking frustration. She wasn’t naive enough to believe their lives would be sunshine and roses all the time. But surely there shouldn’t always be dark clouds and crabgrass, either.
Without a word he closed and locked the door. Removed his parka and gloves, toed off his boots. Then walked to the bed. Sat next to her. And drew her into his arms.
She went willingly, gladly, savoring his strength, the solid feel of him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she burrowed her face into her favorite spot-the cozy nook where his neck and shoulder met, a place that usually felt deliciously warm but was now cool from the frigid weather. But one that still smelled delightfully of Eric-clean and masculine and him.
He pressed his lips against her hair and whispered, “You okay?”
Her throat closed, so she nodded. Then shook her head. Then shrugged. How could she explain how she felt when she wasn’t certain herself? The only thing she knew for certain was that she was exhausted.
His arms tightened around her, as if he feared she might otherwise slip away. And a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she would.
She wasn’t sure how long they remained that way, holding each other in silence, before she finally lifted her head and leaned back to look at him.
Before she could say a word, he cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed his thumb over her skin. “You’ve been crying.”
She attempted a smile, but knew it was a weak effort. “Oh, great. On top of everything else I’m puffy and blotchy.”
“You’re beautiful. And breaking my heart. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
“You didn’t see it-just the horrifying aftermath. And I didn’t really cry. It was just a case of freakishly leaking eyeballs.”
He didn’t crack even the slightest grin at her feeble attempt at humor. “You want to tell me what happened?”
She blew out a long sigh. “The usual-arguments, nastiness, tension. My mother and Kelley didn’t provide you with the gory details?”
“I didn’t ask for them. Instead I told them in no uncertain terms that I was as sick and tired of this as you were. That I wanted them to go home, leave us alone and not make any attempt to contact us before Tuesday unless there was a true emergency-one that involved hospitals and blood.”
A humorless sound escaped her. “Hopefully Mom won’t take that as an invite to check herself into the hospital for some ailment or another.”
“If she does, ten bucks says Kelley tries to beat her to the punch.”
She rested her hands against his chest, absorbing the thump of his heartbeat through his sweater. “I’m sorry I left like that, but I was just so…ugh. About to start screaming.” She related the painful details of the color and centerpiece and floral arrangements and menu and monogrammed versus not-monogrammed cocktail napkin debates.
“I just kept sipping my wine, praying for it to end,” she said, shaking her head. “And I was doing a damn good job of holding on to my patience until I saw the picture of that wedding gown, a gown, by the way, that my mother has already ordered for me.” She shuddered. “Did you see it?”
“The one that looked like something Little Bo Peep would wear?”
“Yes! Thank you! All I needed was a curved staff and every sheep within a five-hundred-mile radius would flock to me.”
