Two Grooms and a Wedding
Adrianne Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Prologue

Arlington, VA

“Isabella Elizabeth Kane, what do you mean you’re engaged to two men?”

With her head planted between her legs, Isabella waited for the nausea to pass. It wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—especially not while her mother, Katherine, screeched at her.

“Answer me, young lady!” Her mother stomped her foot. “Do you realize the mess you’ve made?”

In response, Isabella released a long winding groan. Under the circumstances, it was the best she could do. Heck, she didn’t understand how she’d gotten in this mess either. Well, she did, but it was all so unbelievable that she didn’t know where to start.

Crash!

Isabella jumped from the bed, hiked up the hem of her white beaded Badgley Mischka wedding dress and raced to the bedroom window of her parents’ two-story home. Her mother and Isabella’s team of bridesmaids/sorority sisters followed suit.

Outside, rolling around on the lush green lawn before hundreds of friends, family and Capitol Hill’s most powerful elite, Isabella’s two fiancés, Derrick Knight and Randall Jarrett, duked it out as if a world championship title was on the line.

Reverend Williams, bless his heart, jumped in to pull the men apart, but his efforts landed all three in the Lady Justice stone-garden water fountain.

Everyone gasped in horror.

“No. No. No. This can’t be happening,” Isabella fretted, turning away from the window to pace around the room like a mad woman. “Oh, God. What am I going to do?”

No one had an answer to that—especially since no one knew how she had managed to get herself engaged to two men at once.

“Izzy,” Keri Evans, Izzy’s best friend, spoke up. “You’re going to have to do something.”

Talk about an understatement.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

All the women jumped and gasped at the sudden hammering on the bedroom door.

“Isabella, open this door!” her father, Senator Tyler Kane, roared.

Shrinking from the rattling partition, Isabella returned to the bed and tucked her head between her knees again. Meanwhile, her mother rushed to the door.

“Everybody out!” her father barked.

The command was met with the loud rustle of silk as her bridesmaids bolted. Isabella wished she could join them, but she no longer trusted her legs’ stability to carry out an escape attempt.

The Senator, as he was affectionately called, slammed the door behind the women. Waves of heat pulsed from him and, if Isabella wasn’t mistaken, the floor trembled as he stalked toward the bed.

“Well, little lady?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she croaked down at the pearl-colored carpet.

“Sorry? I have spent twenty years on Capitol Hill,” he began, his voice laded with anger. “And I’ve never once been embroiled in a single scandal. Now my own daughter has managed to destroy my record in one afternoon. This is an election year for God’s sake!”

“Tyler, calm down,” her mother instructed softly.

“How can I be calm? The media is here.”

Isabella’s head snapped up and for her trouble the room spun. “Oh, Daddy.”

“Don’t ‘oh, Daddy’ me. You need to get out there and fix this.”

Fix it? How on earth could she do that?

A quick knock and Keri rushed back into the room. “They’re on their way up.”

“Who?” her mother asked.

“The fiancés.”

Isabella sprang to her feet, thankful they still worked after all. “Stop them! Don’t let them come up here.”

“Stop them?” Katherine questioned. “Honey, you can’t stay up here and hide all day. You’re going to have to talk to them.”

“No. I—I can’t,” Isabella said, bordering on panic.

“By God! As much money as I have spent on this wedding, you’re getting married today.”

“To which one?” her mother asked.

“Derrick/Randall,” her father and Keri answered in sync and then glanced at one another.

Only her mother thought to ask, “Well, which one do you love?”

“What the hell does love have to do with any of this?” the senator thundered. “She’ll marry who I say to marry!”

“Tyler!” her mother screeched.

“What?”

Keri stepped forward. “Izzy? It’s your decision.”

Before anyone had the chance to refute the statement, the bedroom door banged open and Isabella’s two bloodied and soaking wet grooms spilled inside.

“Randall, get out of my way!”

“Like hell, Derrick!”

Isabella leapt behind Keri, hoping to use her as a human shield while the men continued to scuffle.

Her brave father stepped forward and ended the tussle with the powerful boom of his voice. “Stop it, both of you! If you break one thing in this house, I’ll have you both thrown in jail!”

The angry grooms sprung apart, but their heated glares continued the war.

“Isabella?” her father prompted and all eyes turned toward her.

Randall, her first fiancé, pulled his shoulders back and stood erect. His handsome face stared at her with confidence. “Will you tell this man—” he indicated Derrick, who stood to his right, “—whom it is you wish to marry.”

Isabella’s eyes shifted to her second fiancé who towered over Randall by three inches and possessed shoulders as broad and strong as mountains. “Bella?” His dark eyes implored. “Tell them it’s me you love.”

Tears crested her eyes as she opened her mouth, but her throat clenched closed beneath everyone’s expectant gazes. And then she did the one thing no one expected…she fainted.

Chapter 1

Washington, D.C.

Seven months ago…

“Isabella Kane, will you marry me?”

A series of gasps traveled around the large dining table at Maestro restaurant. Handsome Randall Jarrett smiled his newly acquired veneers at his girlfriend.

Isabella dropped her fork and fluttered a shaky hand across her heart. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Surely she hadn’t heard her boyfriend of eight weeks correctly.

“We’re perfect for each other,” he added, clutching her hand.

Perfect, she noted. Not “I love you with all of my heart” or “I’m crazy about you and I can’t see myself living without you.” Just a calculated “we’re perfect for each other.”

Isabella stared down at a breathtaking two-carat princess-cut diamond and had a hard time pushing the word “no” through her lips. How could she? Before Randall she had never had a serious boyfriend her entire life—let alone someone as gorgeous as Randall notice she was alive.

“Isabella?” Randall questioned with an awkward chuckle and then glanced at his parents and potential in-laws. “You’re not going to leave me hanging here, are you?”

Isabella smiled; at least she tried anyway, and waited for the right words to come.

And waited.

And waited.

“Sweetheart?” Isabella’s father spoke up and touched his daughter’s elbow. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I think she’s in shock,” Randall injected with a nervous titter. “It’s not every day a woman gets a marriage proposal.”

Her parents joined Randall in his awkward laughter, giving Isabella sufficient time to break her silent trance.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s all so…unexpected. We’ve only been dating two months.”

“Well,” Randall’s stepmother, Eunice, piped up. “I, for one, thought Randall would never settle down.”

Embarrassment darkened Randall’s face. “Mother.”

“What? It’s true,” Eunice said and smiled. “And frankly, I don’t think he could have made a better choice.”

“Amen,” the other parents chorused and then clinked their champagne glasses together in a quick toast.

So they had all known he was going to propose.

Isabella’s face warmed beneath their open praises, but she couldn’t help but feel Ms. Eunice stretched the truth a bit—well, actually, quite a lot. Fact was, Randall Jarrett with his athletic, six foot three body and creamy, peanut-butter skin could have snagged any woman he wanted off looks alone. His wealth and ambition were bonuses.

What surprised Isabella was that he wanted her— a school-teased ugly duckling who’d survived her adolescence by burying her head in books. Before she knew it, she had sailed through high school without attending a single sporting event or prom. A late bloomer, she couldn’t even fill her paltry “B” cups until she was a freshman in college. But luckily, she finally found a home with Delta Phi Theta sorority, where brains were exalted more than beauty.

Still considered a plain Jane, Isabella couldn’t believe the direction her life shifted.

Randall, still on bended knee, held up his free hand. “We can’t celebrate just yet. I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“Well, of course she’ll marry you,” Katherine assured in her honeyed southern voice. “Isabella knows you two are a perfect match.”

Everyone murmured in agreement and glasses clinked all around. Again, Isabella noticed no one said anything about love.

“If it’s all the same,” Randall said. “I’d like to hear her answer.” His dark, almost black eyes bored into Isabella.

The table fell silent as Isabella swallowed the invisible lump in her throat while maintaining a synthetic smile. The war between love and common sense raged in both Isabella’s heart and mind, and on this night, this very important night, there was no clear winner.

After one last nervous glance around the table, Isabella took a deep breath and rode to Randall’s rescue. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Both sets of parents erupted in cheer, while Randall plucked a diamond ring from its velvet box and slid it down her slim finger. Honestly, it was the prettiest shackle she’d ever seen.

The senator leaned over and wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss against her left cheek.

“Baby girl, you’ve made me so proud.” He gave her a hearty shake and rewarded her with another kiss.

For the first time that night, Isabella’s smile was genuine. She lived to make her parents proud, and tonight they looked just as proud as when she graduated class valedictorian from high school and summa cum laude in both college and law school.

All her life Isabella had done what was expected of her and being the only daughter of a prominent senior senator, great things were indeed expected. After obtaining her law degree from Yale, she interned at the White House. There she met Randall, a straight-laced, ambitious attorney who’d swooped into her life with the speed of a locomotive and then disappeared just as quickly. Three years later, he popped up again while she hammered into tax law with Smith, Bryant and Smith, LLC.

Sure, she was dazzled by his attention. The man was exceedingly handsome and came from a powerful and wealthy family, qualities her parents approved.

However, after a few dates, when the newness of Randall wore off, Isabella realized there wasn’t much there. No sparks, no romance…no nothing. In fact, she suspected Randall was trying to construct an ideal power couple instead of searching for a true soul mate.

She suspected her father was doing the same.

Many times, she wondered what Randall saw in her. She wasn’t ugly, but she certainly wasn’t beautiful either. She’d seen pictures of Randall’s ex-girlfriends. They all looked as though they should’ve had long careers in Hollywood or on the runways of Milan.

Isabella had often thought that the only pretty thing about her was her name.

Her mood flip-flopped for the rest of the night and passed by in a blur. There were smiles, laughter and champagne—lots of champagne. Not until her buzz kicked did Isabella relax. It also afforded her the opportunity to detach and watch the swirling excitement as if everyone was talking about someone else’s life.

Not her own.

Randall caught her in the act and leaned over to ask, “Honey, are you feeling all right?”

The mindless chatter stopped and everyone refocused their attention on her.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’m deliriously happy.”

Smiling, Randall squeezed her hand while his dark eyes sparkled. “You can’t be any happier than I am.”

He was certainly right about that. But who knows? Maybe she would grow to love him.

And in Atlanta…

“Derrick, will you marry me?” Meghan Campbell stared up at her boyfriend with tear-glossed eyes. In her hands a black velvet box held a platinum band nestled in its center. “I know this comes as a surprise,” she laughed. “But…I’m hoping you know in your heart of hearts, as well as I do that we belong together.”

Derrick closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. After a nice evening out with his Kappa Psi Kappa Fraternity Alumni, he had not expected to come home to this. In hindsight, maybe he should have.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” Meghan rushed to say. “Just…think about it. I mean, we’re happy, right? We have so many things in common. So why not get married?”

“Meghan—”

“Derrick, I know you’re scared to settle down,” she continued. “But you don’t have to be. We don’t have to get married right away. If you want we can have a long engagement. You know, so you’ll have time to get used to the idea. We can even wait a few years to have children.”

Setting his new Distinguished Service Award on top of the coffee table, Derrick fingered his tie loose and then stood from the leather sofa in order to put distance between them. “Meghan—”

“Derrick, please. I—”

“Meghan, stop. Please.” He drew a deep breath and forced himself to stare into her sad brown eyes. “I can’t marry you,” he said as gently as he could. “I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”

Snapping the velvet box closed, Meghan choked on a sob, while her entire body imploded before his eyes.

Derrick returned to her side, kneeling on the living room’s plush carpet and pulling her trembling body into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Meg. I never meant to give you hope. I’ve always been upfront with you.”

Meghan tilted her head, her eyes swimming in tears. “Maybe you could grow to love me?”

Sullen, he shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He halfway expected more tears, prepared himself even. What he received instead was a burst of anger.

“You’re sorry? Sorry?” With one strong shove, Meghan sent Derrick reeling backwards onto the floor. “Is that all you have to say after three years—you’re sorry? Screw you!”

“Meg—”

“Don’t! You lied,” she screeched, jumping to her feet.

“I never—”

“Not with your words but with your actions. You’ve always made me feel special.”

“You are special to me.”

“You showered me with gifts, offered me security. You’ve done everything to give me hope that I would be Mrs. Derrick Knight one day. My father is a Baptist minister. I’m supposed to get married.”

Derrick wished with all his might that he could love her the way she wanted to be loved, but he couldn’t make his heart do it. He couldn’t lie to her or to himself.

Wailing, Meghan kicked over the coffee table, and even sideswiped a lamp on an end table as she stormed across the living room. “I wasted three years waiting for you!”

“I don’t consider them a waste,” he offered as he climbed to his feet, only to dodge a flying vase aimed at his head.

“I just bet you don’t! I’ve done everything a good girlfriend should do. I’ve been faithful—”

“I never asked you to do that,” he said. “We agreed that this was an open relationship.”

Meghan’s eyes widened. “You’ve been sleeping with other women?”

“We agreed—”

“Asshole!”

Another vase soared through the air. When it crashed inches from his head, a few shattered pieces ricocheted into his eyes. “Ow! Meghan you’re being unreasonable.”

“You’re damn right I am.” She snatched her purse and coat from the foyer’s closet and then turned to give him a final glare. “I never want to see you again. I hate you!”

Derrick watched as she snatched open the front door and flinched when she slammed it behind her. It rattled in her wake. “Well that went well,” he mumbled under his breath.

He looked around the high-rise apartment and realized he should be grateful she didn’t cause more damage. When he broke up with Mya, he had to hire a decorator to repair the place.

Sighing, he walked to the center of the room and picked up his award. A corner of the plaque had broken off, but it was nothing he couldn’t fix. After another glance around, he promised himself he would clean the mess up in the morning before his flight to Washington. Right now, he just wanted to climb into bed and put this whole fiasco behind him.

In his bedroom, Derrick peeled out of his clothes, showered, and then slid between the bed’s satin sheets. After two hours, he was far from dreamland. All he could see was Meghan’s angry tears.

And Mya’s.

And Genie’s.

And Lana’s.

Exasperated, he flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They had all loved him. They had all expected a wedding ring. But he wasn’t in love with any of them.

“Maybe it’s time to face the truth,” he said into the darkness. “Love just isn’t in the cards for me.”

Chapter 2

Isabella didn’t float home on a cloud and she doubted she would dream of any happily-ever-after with her newly minted fiancé. Instead, Isabella wondered about the mess she got herself into.

“What do you mean, he proposed? You were supposed to break up with him,” Keri thundered into the phone.

“I know. I know. But what was I supposed to do? He had invited our parents to dinner. Everyone was sitting there staring at me.”

“You were supposed to say no.”

Isabella sighed, and slumped onto the bed. She heard a loud rip, jumped up and ran to the mirror to see a long tear in the back of her dress. “Just great!”

“What happened?”

“Uhm. How soon do you need your green dress back?”

“Izzy, you said you’d be careful!”

“I know. I know.” She sighed. Why was she always such a klutz? “It’s just a small rip,” she lied. “I can fix it.” Balancing the phone between her shoulder and chin, Isabella struggled to reach the back zipper. When it jammed halfway down, she opted to pull the silk dress over her head, which caused her to lose her precious balance, drop the phone and crush her toes.

“Ow. Ow, ow.” She hopped around the room blind on her good foot. Once the throbbing eased, she shouted down to the floor, “Just a sec, Keri.” Isabella wiggled and pulled and after a few long seconds managed to work her way out of the dress. “I’m back.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I dropped the phone.” She sat on the edge of the bed and reached to take off her shoes when one heel came off in her hand. “Uhm, about your shoes…”

“Izzy!”

“I’m sorry. I just…I’m just sorry.”

“Forget the shoes. What are you going to do about Randall?”

Isabella checked behind her before easing back onto the bed.

“Isabella, are you there? Hello.”

“I’m still here,” she mumbled.

“So what are you going to do? I mean, you’re not going to go through with it, are you? You’re not in love with Randall.”

“I could learn to love him.”

“What?” Keri shrieked. “Please say you’re joking.”

Isabella sighed. Was she joking? Really, what was wrong with falling in love after marriage? Does true love really exist? Hell, she didn’t know anymore.

“Izzy?”

“I don’t know, Keri. Randall is a good catch and it’s not like there’s a line of men banging down my front door. There never has been.”

“Don’t say it like that. What about that guy you met at the library?”

“You mean, Arthur? That was years ago. We went out one time and all he talked about was reaching some ridiculous level in some video game. Besides he had too many no’s.”

“He had too many what?”

“No’s. No job, no car, no money and most importantly no personality. Consequently, he got married last year.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I was hard up enough a few months ago and called him again.” Isabella grabbed a toss pillow, covered her head and proceeded to scream.

“Izzy? Izzy?” Keri shouted.

When her brief moment of anxiety and frustration passed, Isabella removed the pillow from her head and placed the phone back against her ear. “It’s all right. I’m back.”

“Okay. So Arthur is off the list. No big deal.”

“No big deal? What does it say about the world when he can get hitched and I, an intelligent woman with a damn good job…and somewhat decent looking can only get asked out once every three years?”

“Izzy, stop putting yourself down. You’re a pretty girl. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

How come she only heard those words from her parents and friends? Acidic tears burned the backs of Isabella’s eyes. The truth was the truth. She wasn’t beautiful and she should count herself lucky Randall Jarrett ever gave her the time of day. “Randall would make a good husband.”

“So you’re just going to settle?”

“I didn’t say I was settling.”

“That is exactly what you’re saying. You’re letting Randall and your parents run your life.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh, please. Your parents chose your college, law school, your condo, half of your friends and now they have thrown you into Randall’s arms.”

Isabella groaned at having the truth tossed back at her. The great thing about Keri was her wonderful way of telling it like it is. Sometimes she was a little too blunt, but love it or hate it, everyone always knew where they stood with Keri.

Sometimes Isabella wished she was more like her best friend. For one thing, Keri was gorgeous. Whenever she walked into a room, everyone noticed. Then there was Keri’s no-nonsense attitude. She had no time for fools, or “dawgs” looking for a quick score.

“Take control of your life, Izzy,” Keri said. “Do something. Stand up for yourself. This is your chance before they marry you off and pump you full of kids. Call Randall tonight and tell him you can’t marry him.”

“But—”

“No buts. Do it now. Tonight!”

Isabella fell silent while a knot looped and tightened in her chest. “Time to get a backbone,” she mumbled.

“That’s my girl,” Keri encouraged. “Call him and then call me back,” she instructed.

Isabella nodded and then rolled onto her back. “But what if he’s not there?”

“Izzy!”

“Okay. Okay. I’m calling right now.”

“Good. You’re doing the right thing.”

Then why did it feel like she’d swallowed a fifty-pound lead rock? Isabella disconnected the call, and stared at the phone. Just call him, she told herself. Her hands itched and her fingers tingled, but still she couldn’t make the call.

Five minutes went by.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Isabella reached for the phone, but after punching in one number, she hung up.

“I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow she’d know what to say.

Derrick strolled through the doors of Herman’s Barbershop flashing a wide smile and bobbing his head in greeting to the Saturday morning regulars. For nearly twenty-five years Derrick had been coming to the small shop.

A few men tossed a “Yo, Derrick,” his way and he volleyed a “Whassup?” back at them.

Herman Keillor, a tall, robust man, who was in his early seventies, had owned the shop through some hellish times. Most customers came for his wonderful stories. Not only had Herman given Derrick his first haircut when he was just six, but the old man had often bragged about giving Derrick’s father his first one as well.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming this morning,” Herman boomed from across the room.

“I always keep my appointments,” Derrick said, shuffling across the room, dodging stretched out legs and chunks of shaved hair lying across the floor. “I do have a flight in a few hours, so we’re going to have to make this quick.”

“Bobby!” Herman shouted. “Get out here and sweep some of this hair up.”

A second later, Bobby, Herman’s seventeen-year-old great grandson rushed from the back of the shop with a broom and quickly got to work.

Men in the neighborhood filtered in and out daily, but Saturday remained the shop’s busiest day. Six barbers, ranging from old school to new school donned burgundy barber jackets with Herman’s name scrawled on the back. Despite residing in a red brick building that had clearly seen better days, Herman’s Barbershop looked brand smacking new on the inside.

“Here. Have a seat,” Herman instructed and reached for a black cape.

Derrick took his seat in the offered leather chair and made himself comfortable.

Herman’s was the place to be to discuss women, politics and sports. It was a place where men were free to be themselves, get and give advice or just plain bond with one another.

On the suspended television set, some NASCAR race was well on its way, but none of the brothas were paying it any attention.

“Why do you have this stuff on?” Derrick asked.

“Cable is acting up. It’s either this or Sponge-Bob,” Herman cackled.

“Then never mind.” Derrick laughed.

The bell above the shop’s door jingled and Derrick looked up to see his buddy Stanley Patterson race inside.

The regulars greeted the lanky redhead with affectionate nicknames ranging from “Breadstick” to “Red” and even “Whitey.” A couple of the new clients glanced at Stanley as if they were wondering if he was lost.

“Hey, you beat me here,” Stanley said, panting. “I figured you and Meghan would still be celebrating your getting that award.”

That comment caught a few ears and Derrick groaned. “Meghan and I decided to move on.”

“What?” Stanley thundered. “Why? I thought you two had something going.”

“It just didn’t work out,” he said and hoped that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

“Did she find out about the others?” Stanley asked.

“My man Derrick be laying the pipe down for real,” Bobby chuckled with a note of admiration.

“Humph,” Herman grunted his disapproval.

“We had an open relationship,” Derrick stressed. Why was everyone forgetting about that major detail?

“Hey, you can pass her my way.” J.T., the neighborhood’s merchandise peddler, said while showing off a tray of fake Rolexes to potential customers. “I saw you two at Phipps Plaza some time back. You sure know how to pick them. Lawd knows you do.”

“You got that right,” Stanley cut in before Derrick had a chance to answer. “Thick and curvy with a booty out of this world.”

“Stan,” Derrick hissed, trying to shut him up.

“What, man?” His buddy laughed. “Everyone in here knows how you roll. You hook up with the finest women in the A-T-L. You’re the man.”

Bobby stopped sweeping to ask, “How do you do it? Do you have a line or something?”

Just like that Derrick was the center of attention. Bobby looked like he was ready to bust out a pen and paper to take notes.

“Nah. It’s nothing like that,” Derrick answered modestly.

Disappointment crept slowly across Bobby’s face and Derrick had the distinct impression the young man was suffering from a mild case of girl troubles. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Acne blanketed the boy’s face and his thick black-rimmed glasses looked as though they were a borrowed pair from his great grandfather.

“It’s not important the number of women you get,” Herman said. Undoubtedly, he’d noticed Bobby’s sullen expression, too. “It’s finding that one special woman. This knucklehead—” he thumbed Derrick on the back of his head with a plastic comb “—is gonna realize that one of these days.”

Derrick smiled and shook his head.

“Be still,” Herman instructed.

Herman’s declaration didn’t seem to cheer Bobby any—in fact, it only won a few chuckles around the shop.

“I’m serious,” Herman insisted gruffly. “You young folks.” He tsked under his breath. “You just don’t know what’s important anymore.”

“And what’s that, old man?” someone questioned near the front door.

“Family,” Herman said.

Derrick had mouthed the same answer and shook his head again. The guy by the door must have been new to the shop. The regulars knew Herman never missed an opportunity to climb on his soap box about how young men today where turning their backs on the traditional black family.

“It breaks my heart seeing all these beautiful sisters roaming around here raising these babies by themselves. It’s a damn shame,” Herman said.

“Hey, I don’t have any baby mommas,” Derrick said, feeling the need, once again, to defend himself. “And since I’m not ready to settle down, I make sure I practice safe sex.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Stanley added.

“Safe sex or no sex?” J.T. asked.

Another round of snickering ensued. Stanley’s normally pale face bloomed a bright red. Still, it was amazing no one called his Irish friend out or ragged him about trying to date across the color lines. Derrick suspected it was because Stanley was not only a friend of his but was also a member of the Kappa Psi Kappa fraternity. The only white boy to do so.

Being a Kappa man gave Stanley mad respect in the neighborhood since the fraternity did a lot for the community.

“Shoot,” J.T. chuckled. “It just don’t feel the same with a condom.”

“It’s gonna feel worse when you catch something you can’t get rid of,” Herman huffed, and then added under his breath, “Lawd. Lawd. Please help these knuckleheads running around here.” He clicked on his razor and started grooming Derrick’s edges.

Minutes later, Bobby finished sweeping, Stanley was rapt into the NASCAR race and everyone else returned to their little pockets of conversations. However, Herman’s thoughts were apparently still stuck on the previous discussion.

“Let me ask you something,” the barber asked suddenly. “Are you happy?”

“Pardon?” Derrick asked, not sure whether he understood.

Herman turned off his razor. “Are you happy?” he repeated.

Again, Derrick didn’t really know how to answer. “I, uh—”

“Uh-huh.” Herman clicked his razor back on and went back to edging up Derrick’s sides. “Let me tell you something while you’re ‘not ready to settle down.’ Men and women were put on this earth to procreate. Marry and multiply. It breaks my heart to remember all the things we as a race had to overcome just for the next generations to become more lost than they ever were.”

Derrick squirmed in his seat.

“All anyone talks about is money, fast cars and loose women.” Herman tsked again. “We used to come in here and talk about how to advance the race. Now everyone’s just hustlin’ and only thinking about themselves,” Herman said.

“I’m far from being a hustler,” Derrick laughed, trying to lighten the old man’s mood. “You know how long I’ve struggled to make a success as a political strategist, bouncing back and forth to Washington. It’s a lot of hard work, long hours.”

“Uh-huh,” Herman said, unimpressed. “Nice slogan to put on your gravestone. Much better than something like: Derrick Knight—a wonderful husband and father.”

Derrick swallowed.

“Let me tell you something, son.” Herman clicked off his razor and turned the chair so that their eyes would meet. “There’s nothing on earth better than the love of a good woman. You think you’re a success now? Man, that’s nothing compared to what you could do with a soul mate in your corner. Someone to hold you up when you don’t think you can stand any longer. It’s not about who has the deepest curves or the thickest backside, but someone who, when you look into her eyes, her soul speaks to you down in here.” He thumped Derrick’s chest, indicating his heart. “Love like that is better than some fancy job or fast car. Love like that is what it’s truly all about. I know it and your father knows it, too.”

Derrick’s parents, now retired and living it up in Florida, shared a love that inspired everyone who knew them. But none of this changed the fact that Derrick had never experienced this ground-shaking love his parents shared.

Never.

Chapter 3

“You didn’t tell him,” Keri accused, marching into Isabella’s apartment. “I should’ve known you would chicken out.”

Isabella cringed and shut the door behind her steaming best friend. “I was going to call him…I just couldn’t figure out what to say.”

“You say: ‘Sorry, Randall, but I can’t marry you.’ See? Simple,” Keri said.

“Simple for you maybe.” Isabella shuffled from the door and into the kitchen. She opened and slammed cabinets, while she prepared her morning coffee.

“I don’t know why I even bother. You’re never going to grow a backbone.” Keri slumped into a chair at the kitchen’s island. “From now on you’re on your own. I’m keeping my two cents to myself.”

“C’mon. Don’t be like that.” Isabella turned to her friend. “I need you in my corner more than ever.”

“Need me to do what? Watch you throw your life away and marry the wrong man simply because you’re too afraid to hurt anyone’s feelings?”

“That’s not what’s going on.”

Keri lifted a dubious brow and crossed her arms.

“Okay, it’s sort of like that.” Isabella turned toward the coffee maker and hit the brew button. In truth, up until now, she really hadn’t minded her parents making all the decisions for her. Mainly because at twenty-seven Isabella still didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up. How crazy was that?

In a sense, her parents gave her the much needed direction in life. As it turned out, Isabella was a damn good tax attorney. Maybe—just maybe, her parents really did know what was best for her—including who she should marry.

“I’m going to do it,” she said softly, making a decision and ignoring Keri’s narrowing gaze. “I thought all night about it and…well, I do have some feelings for Randall.” She nodded more to convince herself than her best friend. “We’re good friends and plenty of therapists and psychotherapists say that’s the foundation for a strong marriage. Love will come.”

“Nothing like putting the cart before the horse,” Keri said.

Isabella’s chin thrust forward while her intense gaze leveled with Keri’s.

“Oh, God. You’re serious.”

“Love isn’t like the movies,” Isabella said, and then added in a sullen whisper. “At least not for me. If I turn this down, there’s a strong possibility that I could end up an old maid.”

“Oh, stop it,” Keri snapped. “There’s no such thing anymore. We’re the same age. You don’t see me rushing to the altar with the wrong man.”

“That’s because you have options. You’ve dated more men this year than I’ve dated my entire life. The rules for beautiful people are different from the plain Janes of the world. Beggars can’t be choosey.”

Keri stepped forward and placed a hand against her shoulder. “Izzy—”

“Don’t.” Isabella drew back, breaking contact. “I’m not trying to put myself down. I’m just facing facts. And the fact of the matter is: a proposal from Randall Jarrett is like winning the marital lottery. He’s handsome, successful—”

“Okay. Okay.” Keri said and threw up her hands. “Stop trying to sell him to me. You’re marrying him not me. I’m just going to buy a big-o tub of popcorn and watch this fiasco from the sidelines.”

“Keri—”

Her hands ascended higher in surrender. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Good.” It was an obvious lie, but Isabella lacked the bravery to call her on it. But there was one thing she needed her best friend’s help with. “Uhm,” Isabella drawled and then swallowed the gigantic lump lodged in the center of her throat. “I, uh—”

Keri lowered her hands, but then crossed her arms while her eyebrows played a game of see-saw. “What? Surely this can’t get any worse.”

Isabella jabbed her hands onto her waist.

“I mean, better,” her best friend corrected. “It can’t get any better.”

Isabella trudged past the arctic sarcasm. “Randall doesn’t know I’m a virgin.”

“Surely, it’s not hard to guess.”

“Will you please be serious?”

Keri’s laugh erupted like a machine gun’s rapid fire. “I was being serious.”

Clenching her jaw in mutinous silence, Isabella poured coffee into a ridiculous-size mug with the logo: Geeks do it better!

Keri read the mug and just shook her head.

“It’s meant to inspire,” Isabella said after following her gaze.

“Of course it is,” Keri said with a roll of her eyes. “So, what’s your point? Randall doesn’t know you’re a virgin. And?”

Her feelings still bruised, Isabella shook her head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“Izzy, spit it out before I strangle you.”

Squirming while her face scorched with embarrassment, she plunged ahead. “I don’t want to disappoint Randall. You know…on our honeymoon.”

“As long as you have a pulse, it’s fairly hard to disappoint a man in bed. And for some, a pulse is highly overrated.”

Isabella’s patience finally snapped. “Will you please be serious! I’m pouring my heart out to you and you think it’s amateur night at the comedy club.”

Keri’s hands shot back up into the air. “My bad. What is it that you want me to do?”

“Teach me,” Isabella said simply.

“Teach you what?”

“You know…how to, uhm, spice things up on our honeymoon.” One look into her friend’s amused face and Isabella regretted she’d ever brought it up, but Keri’s next words surprised her.

“All right. You have yourself a teacher.”

There were times when Derrick hated his job.

And flying to Washington in the middle of a thunderstorm was one of those times.

“You look green,” Charlie Masters, one of his best friends and frat brothers, shouted from the pilot seat. “If the storm is bothering you, why don’t you just sit back and close your eyes?”

A jagged bolt of lightning appeared to strike dangerously close to the airplane’s small wing. Derrick wondered how he let his buddy talk him into flying in this small death trap instead of him going commercial. These tiny things had a habit of dropping out of the sky.

“How the hell can you see where you’re going?” Derrick snapped, trying to hide his fear. He didn’t have much success given how the rain and the wind tossed the plane around like a paper kite.

“Relax,” Charlie said with an irritating chuckle. “I’ll have you on the ground in about twenty minutes.”

Derrick’s hard gaze speared his all-too-calm buddy. “You forgot to add alive and in one piece.”

Charlie’s hazel-green eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well, I’ll do what I can.” He laughed.

Derrick groaned because the alternative, punching the pilot, wasn’t a smart idea. Out of the six tight-knit Kappa Psi Kappa fraternity brothers, Derrick and Charlie’s friendship went all the way back to diapers—simply because their mothers had been best friends for over forty years.

The women had married around the same time and had even delivered baby boys ten days apart. The boys grew up thick as thieves. But where Derrick tended to be more aloof about his handsome looks, Charlie milked his GQ status for all it was worth with the ladies.

The plane’s turbulence worsened and Derrick’s hands tightened on the sides of his chair. “Charlie, land this damn thing.”

“Roger that!” Charlie tipped the wheel shaft down and the plane tilted into a nose dive.

Derrick shouted a list of profanities.

Charlie, the jerk, laughed.

An hour later, a frazzled Derrick and a happy-go-lucky Charlie checked in to the Hamilton Crowne Plaza off 14th and K Streets. The front desk clerk questioned Derrick several times as to whether he was all right.

Derrick grunted while Charlie slapped him on the back. “He’s just fine,” Charlie laughed. “Just needs to learn how to relax.”

Derrick shrugged off the heavy hand and cut a narrow gaze over his shoulder, however, the end result just further amused his traveling companion.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Charlie mused as they walked down the hallway of the fifth floor to their suites. “I got you here in one piece, didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Derrick muttered, stopping before room 519 and cramming his card key into the electronic lock. “I’m renting a rental car and driving back.”

Charlie’s bark of laughter rumbled through the whole floor as he stopped at room 521. “Now don’t be like that.”

Derrick entered his suite and back-kicked the door. He could still hear Charlie after the door slammed. “It’s time to get a new set of friends,” he mumbled under his breath as he plopped his suitcase and overnight bag onto the bed and then realized he’d been given a double instead of a king-size bed.

“Just great.” At six foot six, a double meant he would either have to sleep diagonally or put up with his feet hanging off the bed—something he absolutely hated. “Don’t sweat it,” he coached. “You’re only going to be here for two days.”

He waltzed over to the window and opened the blinds. The view of the powerful political town was magnificent. The earlier thunderstorms had disappeared but left the day a blurry depressing gray. “Two days,” he reminded himself. “It’s probably going to be a living hell.”

Isabella wandered through the aisle of the Capitol Hill Bookstore’s Health and Wellness section, praying that she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew. Her lame disguise of being dressed head to toe in black—complete with a black duster raincoat, black oversize sunglasses and black fedora hat only seemed to draw more attention to her.

“Relax, relax,” she mumbled and searched crammed bookshelves for the list of books Keri instructed her to buy.

A salesperson popped out of nowhere and asked, “Can I help you, ma’am?”

Isabella gasped and nearly jumped out of her skin before whirling around and physically blocking the bookshelf to prevent him from noticing the titles she was looking at. “Uh, no. I, huh, am just looking around.” She beamed a nervous smile.

The employee stared at her with his eyebrows gathered at the center of his forehead. “All right. Well, just let me know if you need anything.” He crept backward away from her like he was afraid to turn his back on a crazy person.

It wasn’t until she was alone in the aisle again that she expelled the air burning in her lungs. “All right. Just grab the books and get out of here,” she coached, snatching books like a wild hurricane.

Her arms full, Isabella performed a sort of walk/run from the back of the bookstore up to the cashier counter. The only problem was there was a long line snaking around a gold post labyrinth. She lowered her head and mumbled a curse.

The giant in front of her turned around. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

Isabella’s knees nearly folded at the incredibly sexy baritone rumbling from above her, but no way was she going to glance up so he could get a better view of the books in her arms. Instead, she pretended like he hadn’t spoken to her.

Sure enough, at her silence, he turned back around.

She chanced a peek over the rim of her dark sunglasses only to be startled by the sheer size of the man’s broad shoulders and Texas-sized back that narrowed into a trim waist. For a fleeting moment, she wished he wasn’t wearing the long leather coat; she had a sneaking suspicion that the man probably had a nice butt.

Isabella’s cheeks heated at the idea.

“Next in line,” the bored, robotic cashier called out and everyone in line took a small step forward.

When Isabella stepped to where the potential hunk previously stood, she caught a whiff of the most seductive male cologne she had ever smelled in her life. It was so heavenly. She closed her eyes and imagined floating on a cloud. She drew in a deep breath and was unaware that her feet were moving on their own accord.

That is until she smacked into the Goliath’s back. “Oh.” Her eyes sprung open and her arms tightened on the books she nearly dropped. “Sorry,” she mumbled, casting her eyes downward again.

A long silence, and then, “Not a problem.”

Good God, she could listen to this man talk all night.

“Next, please.”

The line crept forward.

Isabella’s gaze returned to the man’s backside and then slowly traveled down to the man’s large feet. What had Keri said a man’s shoe size represented? Surely not…oh, my. She struggled to gulp down the rising lump in her throat. Not to mention, it felt as if someone had shut off the air conditioner.

Guilt pricked her conscience. Why on earth was she salivating over a faceless stranger when she was newly engaged to one of D.C.’s most prominent bachelors? She laughed at herself and shook off the effects of Mr. Tall, Dark, and undoubtedly Handsome’s hypnotic cologne and waited patiently for her turn at the cashier counter—which turned out to be another humiliating experience altogether.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the cashier asked, fluttering an amused smile at Isabella once she started reading and scanning the titles.

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Isabella said and fumbled for her credit card from her purse.

One book the clerk picked up caused Isabella to turn a bright red. “Uhm,” the clerk said. “You’re going to love this one. My husband and I have the audio book.”

“I’m sort of in a hurry,” Isabella whispered.

“Oh. Of course.” The woman turned off her friendly persona and quickly scanned the rest of the books. “Do you have a member discount card?”

Isabella’s mystery man departed from the cashier next to her with a departing, “Have a good evening.” And Isabella caught a quick glance at the man’s handsome good looks.

The two cashiers and Isabella followed his departure with slack jaws and dreamy expressions. It wasn’t until he disappeared out the glass door and into the gray afternoon that they were finally freed from the spell he’d cast.

“Oooh, girl. If I wasn’t married,” Isabella’s cashier said to her colleague. “I’d jumped his bones right here at the counter.”

“Shoot. Didn’t you hear how he was flirting with me? I think he likes big girls.”

Isabella cleared her throat.

Her cashier’s face turned stony. “Your total is $98.54.”

Isabella handed over her credit card and rushed through the remaining transaction. As she grabbed her bag, she caught the cashier’s whispered words to her colleagues. “Now that’s an uptight one. No wonder she needed those books.”

The women giggled and then shouted, “Next in line!”

Humiliated, Isabella forced one foot in front of the other and slipped out of the bookstore.

“Stop, thief! He snatched my purse,” a woman screamed.

Isabella barely had time to glance up before a lanky teenager plowed into her like a defensive linebacker. She was swept off her feet in an instant and when slammed backwards onto the concrete, every ounce of air rushed out of her lungs.

“Hey, let go of me,” a boy squeaked somewhere near.

“I don’t think so, buddy,” came that familiar, sexy baritone.

Isabella opened her eyes, but quickly closed them again because of the light drizzle splattering against her face.

“Over there, officer,” a hysterical woman cried.

Isabella groaned as she sat up. Everything ached—muscles and bones she had long forgotten about.

“All right. We got him. Thanks for your help, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” sexy baritone said.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

The voice was now directly above her and it had the same effect on her as it did in the crowded bookstore.

“Ma’am?”

Isabella opened her eyes to see a giant hand extended toward her. Her gaze slowly climbed upward until she stared into a face that wiped all thoughts of her fiancé from her mind.

Chapter 4

Derrick grew increasingly concerned about the dazed woman on the wet concrete. She made no attempt to get up so he wondered whether she’d broken anything in that nasty fall. “Maybe I should get you to the hospital,” he said. “You don’t look too good.”

“Huh? What? Oh.” She blinked and shook her head. “I’m all right.”

He didn’t believe that for a second.

“Oh, God,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with horror as she glanced around at the books scattered around her. She frantically started snatching them up.

“Here. Let me help you,” Derrick said.

“No! No. I got it.”

Too late. Derrick picked up The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Amazing Sex and Sex for Dummies. “Interesting reading,” he joked.

The woman’s sienna-hued complexion paled to a sickly brown. “Those are personal.” She snatched the books out of his hands and then tried to lumber awkwardly to her feet.

Ever the gentleman, Derrick placed a guiding hand against her elbow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Forget about it,” she mumbled and turned with her arms loaded down with books. “Taxi!”

“Wait. Aren’t these yours, too?” He bent down and retrieved her ruined hat and broken sunglasses.

“Just keep them. Taxi!”

He laughed. “Don’t be silly. Here you go.”

A yellow cab drove up to the curb, which held about two feet of water, and caused a mini tidal wave to splash up and drench the hurried woman.

Derrick’s laughter was out before he could stop it and when she slowly pivoted to meet his amused gaze, he couldn’t remember ever seeing someone look so adorable.

“Sorry. It’s not funny,” he said in an attempt to smooth things over, but he didn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Mute, the woman twirled back toward the cab. However, she now had a difficult time trying to open the back door with an armload of books.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

“That’s all right. I got it,” she lied.

Derrick ignored her blustering and opened the cab’s door and gestured for her to hop in. “After you,” he said gallantly.

She rolled her eyes at his flair of dramatics and Derrick couldn’t help but remain intrigued by the woman.

With a loud huff, she climbed into the cab.

He quickly followed suit.

“What are you doing?” she asked, scooting over to the other side behind the driver before he sat on her.

“Sharing a cab,” he said amicably. “You don’t mind, do you?”

She clinched her jaw and looked at him like she absolutely did mind.

“Great.” Derrick shut the door without waiting for her answer.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked the question as he clicked on the meter.

“Okinawa Sushi & Grill,” they answered in unison and then cut startled looks at each other.

“Well.” Derrick settled back in his seat. “Looks like something else we enjoy.”

“Something else?”

He didn’t answer, but his gaze dropped to her bundle of ruined books while she tried to stuff them back into the bag.

She sucked in a breath and jerked her gaze away.

He chuckled, amused by how easy it was to fluster the young woman. While she wasn’t looking, he took the time to assess his riding companion. Average height. Average weight. Add it all together, it somehow equaled adorable.

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.

“Will you please stop doing that?”

“Hmm?”

She faced him again and he discovered that she had perhaps the longest eyelashes he’d ever seen. They framed her brown eyes beautifully.

“Stop staring at me,” she ordered with a sharp thrust of her chin. “It’s rude.”

He smiled, unable to help himself, really. “Sorry,” he said, but made no attempt to stop. “Oh, by the way, name’s Derrick Knight.”

Rolling her eyes, she returned her attention to the passing gray scenery while scooting farther away from him.

“Speaking of being rude,” he began. “Are you ever going to thank me for helping you?”

That caught her attention. He was amazed she didn’t get whiplash trying to meet his gaze again.

“Excuse you?”

Derrick’s lips curled higher as he flashed his winning smile. “Forgive me for my stuttering problem, ma’am. It’s apparently worse than I thought.” Her eyes narrowed and drew attention to her cute pudgy nose. He had an insatiable urge to give it a little tweak.

“You want me to thank you for knocking me flat on my butt—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He waved his finger. “The purse snatcher knocked you down. I caught him and then helped you up and uh…helped you gather your books.” He straightened in his seat and crossed his arms. “I’m a hero.”

“A very modest one,” she droned sarcastically.

He popped the collar of his raincoat. “Well. What can I say?”

They arrived at their destination and Derrick stopped her the moment she reached for her purse. “The fare is on me.”

“I can pay my half,” she protested.

“I’m sure you can, but I’m much too much of a gentleman to allow you.”

“Allow?”

He nodded and handed the cabbie a couple of twenties. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” said the driver.

Derrick’s mysterious companion bolted from the cab, and he found himself having to rush to catch up to her. “Hey! Where’s the fire?”

The woman quickened her pace without sparing him a glance or answering his question.

“If you worry that I’m some sort of stalker, let me assure you I’m not.”

“You could have fooled me.” She sprinted through the restaurant’s door and scanned the place to see if she saw her mother.

He laughed, though he had to admit his behavior was a quagmire to himself. “Listen. I know we didn’t exactly meet under the ideal circumstances, but uh—”

“There you are, Mr. Knight.”

Derrick turned and smiled at Congressman Jamison Scott. “Hello, Congressman.”

At that moment, Isabella caught sight of her mother waving from the other side the restaurant.

Derrick regretfully watched her slip away. Later, he realized, he never caught her name, but he could have sworn he saw an engagement ring.

“This is positively going to be the wedding of the season,” Katherine droned from across the table. “Of course, I think we should have it in Martha’s Vineyard, but your father insists on having it at our Arlington estate. What do you think?”

When Isabella didn’t answer, her mother prodded her. “Isabella?” She waved a hand in front of her face.

“Huh? What?” Isabella hadn’t heard half of what her mother was rambling about the wedding.

“The wedding?” her mother said. “I asked whether you wanted to have the wedding in Martha’s Vineyard or in Arlington. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t understand why we can’t just have a small ceremony,” Isabella said, popping two pain pills into her mouth. “At this rate, I would prefer it if we just went to the courthouse and do this.”

Katherine’s face twisted in horror.

“It’s just an idea,” Isabella retracted.

“It’s a terrible one,” Katherine said, reaching across the dining table for the travel size tube of pain medication. “This is the social function of the year for the Kanes.”

“I think you’ve said that already.”

Katherine pursed her lips together and then tried another tactic. “Well, your father is on cloud nine about this political merger. A highly publicized wedding with the Jarretts in an election year is just what he needs to get the voters to forget about his backing that Davis Bill.”

“I’m not cattle,” Isabella mumbled and resumed playing with her smoked sea bass.

Her mother chased the pills with the rest of her champagne and then returned her attention to Isabella. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing.”

“Of course, I think a lot of it has to do with Randall reminding your father how he used to be when he first arrived on the Hill.” Katherine leveled a sweet smile at her daughter and then reached over and cupped one of her apple-plump cheeks. “My baby. I can’t believe you’re about to get married. Where has the time gone?”

Isabella smiled back at her mother and covered the hand on her cheek with their own. A measure of happiness bloomed in her heart. She loved being the cause of her parents’ happiness. It was almost worth marrying someone she didn’t love.

“I think it’s time.”

Confused, Isabella stared at her mother. “Time for what?”

Katherine cleared her throat. “You know. Time.”

Isabella stared.

Her mother lowered her hand and shifted around in her chair. After making a few cursory glances over her shoulder, she leaned forward.

Still at a loss, Isabella followed suit and leaned closer as well.

“Time for…The Talk,” Katherine whispered. “You know.”

“The Talk?”

Her mother nodded and resumed looking uncomfortable in her chair.

Finally, it hit Isabella. “Oh.” A rush of heat surged through her. “Oh. The Talk.” Now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably. “That’s okay, Mom. There’s no need for that. It’s okay.” She reached for her untouched champagne and downed the contents in a single gulp.

Stricken, Katherine pressed a hand against her heart. “Isabella Elizabeth Kane, don’t tell me that you’ve…that you’re no longer…you know.” She whipped her head around; making sure again no one was listening, and leaned forward to whisper. “A virgin.”

The pain medication lost the war with Isabella’s raging migraine. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. “Of course I am,” she whispered, equally appalled.

Her mother almost collapsed with relief. “Oh thank goodness. I knew I raised a good Baptist girl.” She finally picked up her shoulders and straightened in her chair. “In fact, I’m sure it’s one of the qualities Randall likes about you. You’re so pure and innocent,” her mother prattled on. “A man knows the difference between a woman you play with and a woman you marry—especially a political man.”

Isabella went back to feeling like cattle. For the past week she’d tried to convince herself that Randall’s proposal was based on love or at least a serious case of like, but her mother dismissed those notions with the same ease in which she’d told her that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.

Pressing her lips together, Isabella tuned out her mom and went back to pushing her food around her plate. She lost her appetite over an hour ago. Not that her mother would notice.

“Isabella,” Katherine snapped.

“What? Huh?”

Her mother’s fork tumbled from her fingers. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” she accused.

Isabella started to deny the charge but then decided to come clean. “Sorry. I just…have a lot on my mind,” she offered with a smile. “You know: the wedding and all. What were you saying?”

Katherine still looked put out, but continued in a low voice. “I was talking to you about your honeymoon night.”

Isabella fought all that was holy not to groan and roll her eyes.

“When your father and I—”

“Mom,” Isabella cut her off. Despite being twenty-seven, and being the product of her parents’ coupling, Isabella didn’t want to imagine her parents ever having sex. “I know it’s important for you to have this conversation with me, but I really don’t think I can handle it.”

Katherine looked hurt.

“It’s just…awkward,” Isabella covered. “Maybe I should learn about it like everyone else—from my friends.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “Please not from that Wakey girl.”

“Waqueisha.”

“Whatever. She’ll probably tell you to charge for it.”

“Mom.”

Katherine waved her hand in the air. “Fine. Talk to your friends. But take my advice: it’s best to lie still and recite the alphabet. It’ll be over before you reach Z.”

“Mother.”

“Alright, alright.” Her mother tossed her hands up in the air. “That’s all I have to say.”

Isabella sincerely hoped so.

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