He approached, cautiously, like one might an injured boar. Not that he had a lot of experience with wild pigs, but it seemed like it’d be similar. He tripped over a stuffed animal on the ground and caught himself before stepping on some sort of preschool board game. “Can I have that?”
She handed over the beanbag.
“Glad it wasn’t a ninja star.”
She smirked, but the smile didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. “They’re from the girls’ cornhole game. Harmless.”
“Unless you’re throwing with an arm like Nolan Ryan.” He crossed his arms over his chest, stepping backward toward the dining room table. He stopped just short of planting his jeans-clad butt in what looked like a heap of grape jelly. “Should I ask if you’re okay, or ask if you need a glass of water?”
“Neither.”
Apparently what she needed was a maid. He’d probably be standing around crying too if his apartment looked like this.
Not that he was ever home long enough to notice.
He eased past her into the kitchen, which was littered with paper towels and dirty dishes, to the fridge. He squinted at the meager contents and finally pulled out a bottle of water. It was half-empty, and there were some kind of sticky-looking fingerprints on the label, but moms didn’t care about germs, right? He handed it to her.
She took it without meeting his eyes and twisted off the lid. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed some quotes on the wedding for my feature.”
She rolled her eyes. “What wedding?”
It felt like the beanbag landed directly center on his gut. “Nathan bailed?” Anger flared. What a jerk. He ought to—
“No. I did.” Casey’s voice broke, and her hand trembled as she took a sip of water.
Gerard pinched the bridge of his nose. Women. Still making zero sense. “So why are you reaming beanbags at travel writers if it’s your own choice?”
“Because it’s stupid. All of it.” Casey sniffled, reaching up to wipe her eyes. Her fingers came away black, and she stared at them as if they weren’t hers.
Weddings were dumb. He’d give her that. But she and Nathan . . . that didn’t add up. “Did he do something?” He hoped she’d know what he meant so he wouldn’t have to spell it out.
“No.” She shook her head quickly, her curlers shaking. “He’d never cheat on me.”
Never say never, but thankfully that wasn’t the issue today, at least. “Where are the kids?”
“With my family, running last-minute wedding errands. They were trying to give me a break before everything started this afternoon so I could get ready in peace. But Nathan came by, and we started arguing . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Gerard shifted his weight to his other leg. He should get Bri. He really didn’t know how to fix this—or if he even should. He suddenly had the urge to go back to the church and snag a slice of that peace he’d left behind. Guess that had been a useless errand. There wouldn’t be vows to exchange from the looks of it.
Unless . . .
He sighed. “Okay. Give me the CliffsNotes.” He couldn’t believe he was actually inviting details from an alien bride. But something about those makeup smudges tugged at his empathy. Maybe he could reassure her that she was making the right decision to call it off.
Because at the moment, she didn’t look all that convinced.
Her eyes filled with instant tears. “We just don’t even know each other. It’s never going to work.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right.”
Her brow furrowed. “I thought you were trying to help.”
He shrugged. “Odds are, it might not work. You haven’t known each other that long. I’m sure there are stats on that kind of thing, right?” Stats. Data. Those were always the things he could depend on. Feelings came and went, but facts were hard and true. The sooner Casey learned that, the better.
“I didn’t even know what flavor cake he wanted.”
He blinked twice. “Cake?”
“For the groom’s cake.”
He waited. But she didn’t explain any further. “Okay?”
Casey rolled her eyes, as if it was his fault he wasn’t tracking with her. “Bri is handling the petit-four tower, which is technically the bride’s cake, right? Well, the chief at the fire station offered to do a fireman-themed cake as a wedding gift and asked me what flavor Nathan wanted.” Her eyes welled again.
“And?” It was like pulling teeth. From a dragon.
“And I told him strawberry.” She bit her lower lip, looking more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her look before. In their few interactions, she’d been confident, beaming. In love.
He was still missing a step. “And he wanted . . . what? Chocolate?”
“See! Even you knew and I didn’t!” She railed back her water bottle with that Nolan Ryan arm of hers.
“Easy there, Zilla.” He pried it from her hand before she could release it and set her back against the doorframe. “It’s just cake.”
“Zilla?”
“Bridezilla.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Better to be mad at me than the groom.” The poor groom. What in the world was Nathan thinking right now? The bride bailing a few hours before the ceremony because of cake?
He ran his hand over the scruff on his chin, a dozen thoughts vying for first place in his mind. Maybe it would be best to call off the wedding. Save her—and her girls—some heartache later on. And Nathan too, for that matter.
An image of Kelsey shot through his mind, and this time, the residual wave of anger and regret didn’t follow. In fact, all he could think about was Bri.
His mouth dried. “Hear me out, okay?”
Casey nodded, her red-rimmed eyes averted.
“I don’t go for this kind of thing. Love, romance, weddings.” He shuddered. “It’s not my game. I’m the first one to say, ‘Hey, don’t do it.’”
Her gaze darted to his, hope and despair warring in her eyes. “You think I made the right decision?”
“I’m telling you, I’m not usually the guy to ask. I’d steer people away from
