Winter Wedding Bells

CHAPTER TWO

AUSTIN REYNOLDS HELD his sides and bent at the waist, his pulse racing. What were the odds of running into an ex-girlfriend in this remote spot?

“Julie. What are you doing here?” He forced his gaze away as he straightened, uncomfortable. He knew he was staring. But she was even more beautiful than he remembered. She’d matured, but still resembled an earnest college student, her long, dark hair slipping free of whatever held it, her brown eyes large and tilted upward, lashes so thick they looked wet.

And her chin. How many times had he traced it? Kissed it? Marveled at the soft skin that belied its strong jut? He shook off those memories like gathered dust and studied the peeling white bark on a birch clump. Anything to refocus him. To stop this instant prickling awareness...the rush of old feelings made new again just at the sight of her.

She ran a finger under her wristband, her teeth appearing on her bottom lip. “I’m...uh...getting married.”

Her eyes swerved to his for a brief moment, and her brows rose, challenging. In the distance, a raven’s caw echoed.

“Congratulations.” His overloud voice startled a cardinal from its perch, the bird’s flight a scarlet slash against the snowy landscape. After tracking its path, their gazes met again, then slid away. A chill ran through his heart. Julie? Married? But that meant taking a leap of faith...something she’d never been willing to do for him. “You must be happy.”

“Of course!” Her short, straight nose curled the way it always had when she fibbed. Funny how he remembered little things like that. He stepped close enough to see the faint, crosshatch scars beneath her right eye. The result of a tree house fall when she was ten, he recalled.

“Of course,” he repeated, reeling. Why was this news affecting him? He’d moved on long ago.

There was a long, electrifying pause before a brittle silence descended.

“Well. This isn’t even a little bit uncomfortable,” she observed at last, her full lips in a wry twist. For the first time, she met his gaze straight on and the impact made his lungs close up. Wariness curled like smoke in Julie’s eyes, but her expression hadn’t changed.

“Nah. Not at all,” he replied when his breath returned. He was intrigued, despite himself. With the lodge close, his escape route was steps away, yet he was seized by the desire to linger. He’d missed her sarcastic, quirky personality, he realized. What harm could come from a few exchanged words? They were nothing to each other now.

“Are you training here?” She laced her fingers into a hammock that swung in front of her hips.

“We’re here for a few months before touring. How did you know?” he asked, taken aback.

“I think my mother might have mentioned it.” Oddly, guilt flashed in her eyes before she dropped them.

“I didn’t know she followed winter sports.” Now that he had stopped moving, the cold air settled over his arms, raising bumps.

She put on a smile that wasn’t really a smile. “Who knows what my mother’s into lately,” she mused, her voice far away.

“Who knows what anyone’s into,” he muttered. Julie. Getting married. The concept gnawed at his gut. Why was this bugging him?

Her smile faded as he peered at her and he cursed himself for that revealing slip. “So when’s the wedding? I would have thought you’d have it at home.” He only partially succeeded in keeping the bitterness out of his voice. She’d never been willing to leave Connecticut for him...

Water under the bridge.

She slowly raised her downcast gaze. “I’m getting married at the Mirror Lake Lodge on Christmas Eve.”

His eyes flew to her left hand, a lump on her ring finger visible beneath her glove. “Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?” A very lucky guy, he had to admit, staring at her lovely face.

“Mason Stanton. He’s a doctor in my father’s practice.” Something lay across her voice, a long shadow. In the gray light, her skin looked pale. Not exactly a glowing bride. Then again, he supposed standing outside in below-freezing temperatures wouldn’t put him in the mood to gush, either. Especially with an ex.

“Sounds like you got what you wanted, then.” After four years together, and almost another year of long distance waiting, he’d finally realized they didn’t want the same things.

“Yes.” She rubbed her arms and jumped a little, her breath a foggy mist. The whine of Ski-Doos grew louder as a pair of the machines flashed by, deep in the woods. “How about you. Married?”

“No. Haven’t met the right lady.” He felt a pang of regret when he saw her slight wince. “Plus, I’m never in one place long enough. The team’s tour schedule is demanding, though it’s nice when we settle here for training.”

“It’s hard to imagine you ever staying in one place,” she quipped, her eyes searching his.

“It’s hard to imagine you leaving one.”

An electric charge singed the air and neither looked away. After a moment she coughed lightly into her glove, her eyes skittering sideways. “People change.”

“Not as much as we think,” he observed grimly. Something made him want to call her out. Her stubborn denial of the facts, the way she balked at risk, never took chances—on him or anything—it jabbed under his breastbone. Hard.

Her politeness melted. Suddenly there was fire in her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

When he spoke, white puffs accentuated every word. “Come on, Julie... Marrying a doctor like your father? One who also lives in Connecticut and works in your family’s practice? What kind of change is that?”

Obviously she wanted a rerun of her childhood. Not the life he’d offered her when he’d taken a sports chiropractic and strength-training position with a Swiss team all those years ago.

Julie’s face froze, and slowly, imperceptibly, her body shrank back. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”

He grimaced and wished he could take back that pointless rant. “You’re right. This is stupid. I’m—I’m happy for you. Glad we met up.” He dropped to one knee and tightened an unraveled shoelace, hiding his face.

Julie let out a long, shuddering breath. “Me, too. So do you live in Lake Placid?”

“I just sold my apartment, so I’m staying at the Mirror Lake Lodge until my condo is finished. It’s a new construction near Mount Van Hoevenberg. An easy commute to work.” He forced a neutral tone. Made himself take it down a notch. They weren’t new exes quibbling over who took custody of the dog.

The winter sun emerged through its cloud coverage and pierced the thick boughs around them, throwing patterns of light across her delicate profile, her skin tight around her mouth. “So you’re staying here?”

“It’s not like I’ll be in your way.” In fact, now that he knew she’d be getting married there, he’d spend more time than ever at the Olympics office or on the mountain. Anywhere but near the woman who’d found the happiness she’d denied him.

Her gold-toned skin grew pink. “I wasn’t worried about that.” The nose curl. Again. “It’s good seeing you.”

She turned back toward the trail curve, ready to disappear from his life again. And he’d let her now as he had before. It’d been the right choice when he’d made it years ago.

“Same. Good luck with everything.”

Her brows lowered and she nodded slowly. As if she needed that luck. Or was that just his imagination again? Darn it. She was happy. Leave her be.

Leave them both be.

With a wave, she jogged off. He watched the long-legged strides that carried her away, an emptiness rising in him as she vanished around the corner. Odd as it’d been to see her here after so long, it felt as though they’d picked up right where they’d left off...and that wasn’t a good place.

He didn’t miss her. So why was it so hard to watch her go?

* * *

LATER THAT EVENING, Julie pressed a hand to her rumbling stomach and looked up from her red rice cake entrée at a loud clanging sound beside her. Mason stood, trim and dapper in a pin-striped suit, pinging his cake fork against his wineglass. He looked as though he belonged in the elegant Teddy Roosevelt era in which Mirror Lake Lodge’s The View restaurant had been built. She tried imagining him in the outdoors, sweating despite the cold, exertion brightening his eyes the way it had Austin’s. She failed.

Austin... Mason... How similar their names were. Was that a coincidence or another connection to Austin she’d repressed? It still rankled that she’d somehow picked the one wedding venue where she might cross paths with her moving target of an ex. It couldn’t mean anything, surely.

She pressed her lips together and shook off her traitorous thoughts. She’d left her ex on the trail. He had no place here.

Hickory panels reached from floor to ceiling and surrounded massive inlaid fireplaces that popped and crackled at either end of the long, elegant room. A moose head mounted above one mantel was reflected in the large Victorian mirror atop the opposite hearth. Christmas trees in each corner fragranced the air with fresh evergreen, the merry glow of their miniature lights competing with the carved pineapple and scrolled chandeliers. This long-anticipated event should feel as special as it looked, but her run-in with Austin had shaken her confidence.

Mason wasn’t an extension of her old life as Austin had suggested. She’d expected her ex to be impressed with her big news, maybe feel regretful that he’d given up on her so quickly. Instead, he’d pointed out how little she’d changed. Told her she still played it safe.

Completely wrong.

She glanced between her father and Mason and mutinously buttered a bread roll.

Way off base.

Mason cleared his throat and raised his glass higher, clanging.

Oblivious, the relatives invited to this private dinner continued to chatter. They sat on upholstered chairs around cloth-covered tables that broke up the red-and-white-diamond pattern on the carpet. Julie met her mother’s eyes across the table, her expression as surprised as Julie felt. Her father, on the other hand, rubbed his bald patch in that way he did whenever he got excited.

Julie glanced up at Mason. “What’s going on?” She pitched her voice low, the way he preferred. Funny how, until they’d begun dating, she hadn’t noticed how loud she spoke in public places, especially at movie theaters...

“Patience. Patience.” Mason’s blue eyes viewed her with the familiar chiding and indulgent expression he seemed to reserve for her. He brushed a hand over the meticulously cropped blond hair that framed his round face. “It’s a surprise. And I wouldn’t do this to you if it wasn’t such a big one. I want it to be special.”

Julie’s wine burned down her esophagus, the alcohol and lack of real food making her light-headed. She detested being caught off guard. Mason knew that. What could this be?

The relentless clanging had finally quieted the boisterous group—only the soft jazz versions of Christmas tunes weaved through the room. Mason flashed his boy-next-door smile.

“First, I’d like to thank all of you for being here to celebrate the happiest moment of my life.”

Cheers broke out and Julie’s gut twisted. A glass of wine had not settled her jitters and her chance meeting with Austin hadn’t helped matters, either. After attending to her mother, she’d put off the seating chart once again and collapsed in her room, hoping to banish memories of boyfriends past. Boyfriend, she corrected herself.

“To kick off our wedding countdown, I want to present Julie with a very special gift in front of all of you.”

Julie grew warm as thirty or so pairs of eyes studied her. Did she look excited? Happy? Not as if someone had just scrambled the meager contents of her stomach? At a gentle, under-the-table kick from her mother, Julie forced her mouth into a smile, the rest of her face numb.

Please, oh please, let it be something she liked. She was the absolute worst at faking.

“Darling, would you stand?”

Julie drained the last of her wine, rose and gripped the table’s edge.

Mason draped an arm across an easel behind them, an empty canvas covering something framed. She’d noticed it earlier but assumed it belonged to the restaurant. A painting they had yet to hang.

Could the present be something as innocuous as a picture? Her chest loosened. Possibly. Mason referred to his condo as a bachelor pad. Maybe this was his way of bringing her eclectic style into the austere space. Still, without her opinion, how would he know she’d like it? The instant the question occurred to her, she answered it.

He usually jumped in and chose for her when he saw her waver, unlike Austin, who’d always insisted she make up her own mind.

A loud crash sounded behind her and everyone jumped as a blushing waitress bent down to pick up the overturned easel.

Mason quickly moved between them, blocking Julie’s view. “Just a second, folks,” he remarked, his face still wreathed in an excited smile.

“I’m so sorry!” cried the young woman.

“It’s fine,” Mason assured, his tone confident, He always made it easy to follow his lead since he seemed so certain of what was best...especially when she never could be sure what she wanted. Lately, though, it’d begun to grate as the choices grew more important, his will more vocal. Of course, they wanted the same things...but should he always assume as much? He seemed to think her approval was guaranteed.

No. Taking a while to make up her mind didn’t mean others could race ahead and decide for her. But she’d let that happen with Mason. And it had to stop.

Finally, with a flourish, Mason ripped off the covering to reveal a real-estate picture of a near replica of her parents’ house. Colonial blue, though, instead of white. The word Sold was scrawled across the top.

What?

She glanced between her beaming father and an expectant Mason.

“This is our new house, Julie. Where we’ll raise our family. Soon, I hope.” He winked and squeezed her cold hands.

“But how?” she managed to say, her mind hurtling through thought after thought, too fast to make sense of it all. The room exploded into cheers and applause. Mason’s disabled veteran brother, Michael, punched the air with his remaining arm and circled it, whooping.

A bit of light faded from Mason’s eyes, but his smile stayed strong. “I found it around the corner from your parents’ house after Thanksgiving. The owner’s Mrs. Beele. You know her, right? She was struggling to wrap garland around her banister, and when I stopped to help, she mentioned this would be her last year decorating since she planned to sell. I got ahold of her real-estate agent, made an offer and the rest is history.”

“I didn’t know Margaret was selling,” Dianne said in a low voice to her husband, her eyes narrow. “Did you put him up to this?” she hissed under her breath, her voice barely audible.

“Mason came to me and asked that I keep it quiet until now.” Julie’s dad slipped his arm around his wife’s rigid shoulders. “Julie, I know how much you’ve always loved our house, and since this one is so similar and you’ll be in the same neighborhood, well, I knew you’d be happy with this surprise. No risk at all,” crowed her clueless dad.

Julie looked down at her hands, hiding behind her eyelids. Wasn’t that exactly the problem, though? No risk. Nothing unexpected. Of course this would be her home. The predictability should comfort her. No unknown variables in this equation.

Yet she took a step back from the picture and dropped Mason’s hands. The sounds in the room grew muffled, the tapering applause snuffed out by her drumming heart.

She didn’t want this.

The thought squirmed in her spine, poked her up from the carpet. No equivocation. No what-ifs. She did. Not. Want. That. House. Her certainty startled her—the shock felt like a splinter jamming under a nail.

“Julie. Are you okay? Would you like some water?” Mason sounded concerned as he leaned close, his musk overwhelming.

“No. Not okay,” she mumbled, her voice tamped down to a whisper. Austin would have insisted she have a say in their future home. And as much as she would have struggled with making such a difficult choice, she would have preferred it to this. Another traitorous thought.

“I don’t understand. It’s what we always talked about. Exactly what you said you wanted.” Mason rubbed her bare arms exposed by her sleeveless black dress.

Had she? Mason must be right, but at this moment, she couldn’t agree. Her gaze ran over the Cape Cod–style home, a red maple tree in the front yard, a curved walkway up to the stone entrance steps. A colorful grapevine wreath hung on the welcoming door and a brass mailbox rested beside the doorbell.

She could have drawn this home in her sleep. She fast-forwarded through her life with Mason in her mind. A couple of years when she decorated the house and they took exotic vacations, the eventual decision to start a family, her struggle to raise the infants then toddlers alone while Mason worked, and the loneliness when the children went to school and Mason grew increasingly preoccupied with his demanding schedule. Day after predictable day. The weight of her future crushed her as she saw how it, and she, would turn out.

She studied the photograph. It wasn’t a pretty picture. Not to her. There was a danger to knowing how it all ended.

Her gaze swept to the French doors and windows along one wall of the restaurant. The dark night outside was just the escape she needed.

“I’m so sorry. Excuse me. I need air.” She turned, but Mason’s hand halted her flight.

He ducked in front of her and led her outside, his hand on the small of her back. The arrival of tiramisu diverted the open-mouthed guests, covering their flight. Nevertheless, Julie sensed her mother’s eyes following her. What must her parents be thinking? She couldn’t disappoint them...but she wouldn’t be untrue to herself, either.

This rejection of the house was the first absolute decision she’d made in a long time and it felt right. But it went deeper than that. She didn’t want the life that went with it, either. Did that include Mason? It seemed impossible to separate the two.

Outside, the cold wrapped its frosty fingers around her and made her shiver, the night sky clear and frozen and smelling of pine.

“Julie. What happened in there? I thought you’d love it. Do you want another house?”

She jerked away when Mason pulled her close.

“No.”

His fair brows crashed together. “So you want the house?”

“No.”

“No,” Mason repeated. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching the stars. “No, as in you don’t want me to buy another house? No, as in you don’t want me? Don’t want to get married?” His voice broke.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, each word sawing through her. What was she doing? She had to take this back before she threw away another chance at happiness.

“This is nerves,” vowed Mason. “You’ve always trusted me before. Believe me now.” He pinned her with a pleading look. “This is the life you want. I’m the one you chose. I’ll devote every day to making you happy and you’ll never worry about a thing. Ever. I guarantee it.”

“That’s the problem. What if I don’t want guarantees? What if I’d rather not know every day will be perfect?” she blurted out, cringing at her ridiculous line of thinking. Who wouldn’t want to know they’d be happy? Yet a tectonic shift had rocked her foundation when she’d glimpsed the picture. It shook her notion that familiar was better.

Mason closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell as he breathed. “I’ve worked hard to give you the life—and the love—you deserve. Don’t you love me, Julie?”

When his lids lifted, she met his tortured gaze. She was looking at a stranger. One she’d known all her life. How odd, but there it was. She’d grown up with the bright, optimistic boy who’d followed her to school on his bike every day to make sure she arrived safely. Had met him, anew, when he’d returned from medical school as a confident, assured young man. Stable. Ready to put down roots. Everything she’d desired at the time, only...now that she had seen the picture—physical, tangible proof of the life they’d planned—she wasn’t sure she wanted it, after all.

“Julie? Do you love me?” he repeated, his voice husky and heavy, as though he spoke underwater.

She backed away, her hand on the railing, ruffling the lighted garland wrapped around it. “I’m sorry, Mason. I don’t know about anything right now. I’m a mess.” A sucking feeling filled her chest, like water draining.

He reached for her, then dropped his arms, hands swinging at the wrists like deadweight. “You’re confused. Under pressure. Just tell me what you want. Anything.”

“Space. Time. I—” She glanced behind her at the stairs leading down to the parking lot. “I need to get away. Okay?”

Mason’s shoulders sagged. She’d never seen him look so frightened. The hot spot of pain in her chest expanded. She’d hurt him and she hated that, but it was important to figure out what she wanted before she hurt a good man even more.

“Okay.” He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her along with his cell phone and car keys. “Take care of yourself. Precious cargo.” His strained voice distorted their old joke.

“I will.” On impulse, she kissed his cheek, her gut aching, before racing down the stairs and into the dark. Time to start taking care of herself. Make her own decisions. Had this first one been a colossal mistake?