A Wedding Story Read Online Free Page A

enthusiastic,” Bobby’s voice squeaked.
    He looked down at her, slightly worried, somewhat green, but his eyes so warm and deep that she didn’t know what to think. Was he lying, as he so often did?
    Or was it possible that he was tel ing the truth?
    Her stomach began to swim. Bobby couldn’t be in love with her. He hated her. He made her crazy.
    He insinuated his way into her life and made her blood pressure skyrocket. He enjoyed making her scream.
    And she liked doing the same thing...
    He tilted his head, a frown making his brows knit as he tried to figure out what she was thinking.
    But she didn’t know what to tel him, what to say. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, feeling, either.

    She felt his thumb on her cheek, a gentle brush of the pad across her cheekbone.
    How many of her memories had him in them?
    What good were any of the memories without him?
    She curled her palm around his wrist, clutching it for dear life. In a moment, everything was changing.
    Then again, maybe not a moment. Maybe for the twenty-five years she’d been headed for this moment. The second when she realized that Robert Wichowski was the reason she lived and breathed.
    Always had been...always would be.
    “You okay, Rhubarb?”
    She basked in his concern. Thril ed for his touch. Ached for his kiss.
    “Uh-uh.”
    His frown deepened, then he must have put two and two together because his eyes widened and his expression brightened until his smile was like to blind her. “Oh, Rhubarb...” He dipped his head and probably would have kissed her...
    If Father Larkin didn’t slap him in the back of his head again. “Wait for the wedding.”
    They both gasped and turned to the priest, but he was already circling the desk. “I’m going to get your mothers and I’m leaving the door open, so no funny stuff!”
    They watched him go,then they both stared at the open door and the freedom beyond. Would running for their lives count as “funny stuff”?
    “What do you say, Rhubarb?”
    She didn’t know. She just didn’t know.

Chapter Eight
    “Come on, Rhubarb,” Bobby said, taking her hand and pul ing her toward the door.
    Her skidding feet—what the hel were they doing skidding?—slowed him enough to make him turn around, a quizzical expression on his face. Then it cleared to a comforting smile.
    “When I marry you, it’s going to be in a dress you like, with al the trimmings girls are supposed to want, most especial y without the priest knowing you aren’t wearing underwear.”
    He did have a knack for saying the last thing she could ever expect to hear. Her feet gave up the fight and they were soon barreling out of the rectory, down the hal to the church and were a few feet from the front doors when the last person they expected to play avenging angel stepped out from behind a pil ar and nabbed them.
    Madelyn Wontor, her once perfect bun now starting to show some serious wear on the left side with a few crinkling escapees of hair, bore down on them and grabbed their joined hands. “Oh, no you don’t,” she growled, ignoring Bobby’s yipe when she secured her grip on his wrist. “I have been looking for the two of you for over an hour!”
    She final y took in Ruth Anne’s bedraggled hair, make-up and dress. Ruth Anne considered it a show of true grit that Madelyn not only didn’t pass out, she actual y reached into her little fanny pack for a comb, mini-hairspray and new lipstick.
    “I’m not going to ask. Your mothers wil , but as far as this wedding is concerned, you’re going to look as good as we can make you. We need the wedding toasts from the Best Man and the Maid of Honor. Since you got the dancing started before the food was served, this whole wedding has been completely out of order. We get those toasts done, your siblings can drive off into the sunset and I can go commit suicide before your cousin Louie asks me out on a date again.”

    “That would be my cousin Louie,” Bobby murmured, sharing an amused