Of course, Joshua realized right then something else she’d been right about. He was afraid.
Afraid of wanting this life he really had always dreamed of but had written off because he messed up his first attempt so badly. Afraid because the first time had been so painful, had gone so horribly wrong.
“Because I’m a coward,” he said. “But I’m not going to be one anymore.”
He walked down off the stage and to the front pew, picking up the bouquet. “I’m going to go find her,” he said. “I know she’s not far, since Riley is here.”
Suddenly, he knew exactly where she was.
“Do you have any other weddings today, Pastor?”
Pastor John shook his head. “No. This is the only thing I have on my schedule today. Not many people get married on a Thursday.”
“Hopefully, if I don’t mess this up, we’ll need you.”
Eleven
It was cold. And Danielle’s bare feet were starting to ache. But there had been no way in hell she could run in those high heels. She would have broken her neck.
Of course, if she had broken her neck, she might have fully severed her spinal cord and then not been able to feel anything. A broken heart sadly didn’t work that way. She felt everything. Pain, deep and unending. Pain that spread from her chest out to the tips of her fingers and toes.
She wiggled her toes. In fairness, they might just be frostbitten.
She knew she was being pathetic. Lying down on that Pendleton blanket in the loft. The place where Joshua had first made love to her. Hiding.
Facing everyone—facing Joshua again—was inevitable. She was going to have to get Riley. Pack up her things.
Figure out life without Joshua’s money. Go back to working a cash register at a grocery store somewhere. Wrestling with childcare problems.
She expected terror to clutch her at the thought. Expected to feel deep sadness about her impending poverty. But those feelings didn’t come.
She really didn’t care about any of that.
Well, she probably would care once she was neck deep in it again, but right now all she cared about was that she wouldn’t have Joshua.
If he had no money, if he was struggling just like her, she would have wanted to struggle right along with him.
But money or no money, struggle or no struggle, she needed him to love her. Otherwise...
She closed her eyes and took in a breath of sharp, cold air.
She had been bound and determined to ignore all of the little warnings she’d felt in her soul when she’d thought about their relationship. But in the end, she couldn’t.
She knew far too well what it was like to pour love out and never get it back. And for a while it had been easy to pretend. That his support, and the sex, was the same as getting something back.
But they were temporary.
The kinds of things that would fade over the years.
If none of his choices were rooted in love, if none of it was founded in love, then what they had couldn’t last.
She was saving herself hideous heartbreak down the road by stabbing herself in the chest now.
She snorted. Right now, she kind of wondered what the point was.
Pride?
“Screw pride,” she croaked.
She heard the barn door open, heard footsteps down below, and she curled up into a ball, the crinoline under her dress scratching her legs. She buried her face in her arm, like a child. As if whoever had just walked into the barn wouldn’t be able to see her as long as she couldn’t see him.
Then she heard footsteps on the ladder rungs, the sound of calloused hands sliding over the metal. She knew who it was. Oh well. She had already embarrassed herself in front of him earlier. It was not like him seeing her sprawled in a tragic heap in a barn was any worse than her stamping her foot like a dramatic silent-film heroine.
“I thought I might find you here.”
She didn’t look up when she heard his voice. Instead, she curled into a tighter, even more resolute ball.
She felt him getting closer, which was ridiculous. She knew she couldn’t actually feel the heat radiating from his body.
“I got you that Pop-Tart cake,” he said. “I mean, I had Alison from Pie in the Sky make one. And I have to tell you, it looks disgusting. I mean, she did a great job, but I can’t imagine that it’s edible.”
She uncurled as a sudden spout of rage flooded through her and she pushed herself into a sitting position. “Fuck your Pop-Tart cake, Joshua.”
“I thought we both liked Pop-Tarts.”
“Yes. But I don’t like lies. And your Pop-Tarts would taste like lies.”
“Actually,” he said slowly, “I think the Pop-Tart cake is closer to the truth than anything I said to you back in the church. You said a lot of things that were true. I’m a coward, Danielle. And guilt is a hell of a lot easier than grief.”
“What the hell does that mean?” She drew her arm underneath her nose, wiping snot and tears away, tempted to ask him where his elfin princess was now. “Don’t tease me. Don’t talk in riddles. I’m ready to walk away from you if I need to, but I don’t want to do it. So please, don’t tempt me to hurt myself like that if you aren’t...”
“I love you,” he said, his voice rough. “And my saying so now isn’t because I was afraid you were a gold digger and you proved you weren’t by walking away. I realize what I’m about to say could be confused for that, but don’t be confused. Because loving you has nothing to do with that. If you need my money... I’ve never blamed you for going after it. I’ve never blamed you for wanting to make your and Riley’s lives easier. But the fact that you were willing to walk away from everything over three words... How can I pretend they aren’t important? How can I pretend that I don’t
