Unexpected Bride

“No, it’s not Rory,” Abby told her.

“Clayton,” Colleen said, even though she was actually too far from the door to have heard his voice. She’d simply read Abby’s face instead. She sat at the vanity, touching up her makeup. Molly sat beside her sister, staring blindly into the mirror.

“You okay, Mol?” Abby asked, just as she had earlier, but this time with more than a twinge of guilt. Maybe she’d been too vocal last night, on the subject of Molly marrying a virtual stranger. One who came with two kids. If Molly had any doubts, she and the groom wouldn’t be the only ones hurt—the kids would be, too. And they didn’t deserve that. They deserved someone who would love them completely.

Going by the few dates she’d had since Lara was born, Abby knew that it wasn’t easy finding someone who could love your child as you did. Heck, she’d never been able to find anyone who could even love her. Abby. Except for her friends and Mrs. Mick.

The door rattled behind her, and Clayton spoke. “Everybody decent? Let me in.”

Abby braced her body against it. “Molly?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not even dressed yet,” Brenna said, gesturing toward a confection of white satin and lace that hung from a special hook on the wall. Molly sat at the vanity in faded jeans, a zip-up gray sweatshirt and her headpiece. “Let us help you,” she insisted.

Molly shook her head, setting ringlets atremble against her veil. “I can manage. It’s just one zipper.” She’d always been so independent, so determined. “I really need a minute alone. Can all of you step outside?”

“Molly…” Brenna protested.

“Please,” she implored them, using her expressive eyes to bring home the request to give her a little space.

Abby sighed. She’d spoken her mind, and her friend knew how she felt about this wedding. Maybe Molly needed a minute alone now to figure out how she felt about it. “Okay, gals, let’s give her a little space.” She straightened up and stepped away from the door, opening it to Clayton’s concerned gaze.

“It’s almost time,” he said, tapping a finger on his gold watch. “Molly, you aren’t even dressed.”

Abby pressed her hands against his chest and pushed, but not as she had the night before. Today, she could appreciate the ripple of muscle beneath her palms, the warmth that penetrated his crisp shirt. She swallowed hard, then said calmly but firmly, “Back off. The bride needs a minute.”

“Molly?” He spoke over Abby’s head, ignoring her words and her restraint, his voice full of concern for his sister. “Are you all right?”

While Abby respected the fact that Clayton cared for his siblings, Molly didn’t need any pressure from anyone right now. Her fingers pressed into the pleats of his shirt and she pushed once more. “Give her some space.”

His heart leapt, beating fast against her hand. He stared down at her, his voice a warning as he uttered her name. “Abby…”

She shivered, wishing her dress wasn’t strapless. His gaze skimmed over her shoulders to where the tight bodice pushed up more cleavage than she’d realized she had. His dark eyes flared.

Brenna pushed past them. “Come on, the bride wants some time alone.” She dropped her voice lower as she led Lara out. “I’m not sure what you two want.”

Neither did Clayton. Although she didn’t say anything, Colleen sent her brother an arched stare as she filed out behind Brenna and Lara. When Abby moved to pass him, he caught her by the wrist, wrapping his fingers around the delicate bones. She was so small.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, closing the door to give the bride the privacy she’d requested.

He couldn’t blame Molly. She was about to take on some major responsibilities: a husband and two boisterous young boys. He couldn’t imagine willingly putting himself in her position. But she’d made her decision, and once Molly made up her mind, she stuck to it. Unless someone who’d proven to be a bad influence in the past had managed to sway her. But Molly was at the church, about to put on her dress and about to walk down the aisle. Molly was fine, he assured himself.

Gently he tugged on Abby’s wrist, leading her into an alcove off the vestibule. “I want to apologize for last night.”

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