Keeping Secrets in Seattle - By Brooke Moss Page 0,74

released a hacking cough.

“Good grief. When is it our turn?” I shifted on the couch while Elvis declared someone husband and wife in the next room.

Landon pried the plastic cups from my fingers. “You need some air.”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I barked, “No, I don’t. It’s ninety degrees outside, and I’m leaving pit marks on this dress. What I need is for Elvis to speed things up in there, so we can get this show on the road.”

His hands went from my fingers, up my arms to my shoulders, which he turned so that I was forced to face him. “Talk to me. Are you—”

“Awuh! You two are so darling,” the lady said through a plume of cigarette smoke.

Landon’s eyes flicked from me to her, then back again. “Are you having second thoughts?”

Bringing my eyes to meet his, there was a ragged edge to my voice. “I’ll be fine as soon as we get in that damn room and get this wedding over with.”

His mouth turned downward. “Over with?”

My eyes filled. I’d had entirely too much champagne on an empty stomach. “That’s not what I meant…”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” His grip on my shoulders tightened.

“Of course I do.” I swiped at my eye with the back of my hand and realized that my mascara was melting. Deep inside my purse, my cell phone rang, and my fingers twitched, itching to answer it. Anything to remove myself from the discomfort I was presently submerged in.

As I opened my mouth to respond, the doors to the next room opened, and a drunk couple came stumbling out of the chapel amidst a shower of confetti. A short, squat Elvis impersonator emerged behind the newly married couple, doing a less-than-stellar impersonation of The King as they made their way to the exit.

“Is this my next hunka-hunka-burning love couple, Mavis?” His lip curled so high, it practically went into his nostril.

She nodded and stubbed out her cigarette. “Sure is. They purchased the number five.”

I cringed. My mother was going to kill me when she found out I’d ordered my wedding package like a value meal.

“That’s us,” I told the fake Elvis with fake enthusiasm.

Landon’s stare scalded the skin on the side of my face. “We need a few minutes.”

Fake Elvis swiveled his hips, and his belly vibrated. “The King’s got a full schedule tonight, kids.”

If he didn’t start moving toward the altar, I was going to lose it. “We are ready, sir.” I glanced at Fake Elvis’s sparkling white jumpsuit. “Er, Your Majesty.”

He launched into an off-key version of “I’m All Shook Up,” and Landon released my arms. “Sir, I think we need a minute.”

“We don’t need a minute.” I used a piece of tissue from my armpit to wipe the makeup off my face. Grimacing, I said, “We’re ready right now.”

“But you’re almost in tears.” His voice was low and strained.

“It’s her wedding day. She’s allowed to be emotional,” the woman behind the counter said, lighting another smoke. The smoke assaulted my red nose, and tears tickled at the backs of my eyes.

“You’re not just emotional.” Landon touched my chin and made me look into his eyes. “You don’t want to do this.”

My phone beeped again, and I scrambled to fetch it from my purse. It was an e-mail. From Gabe. I clamped my teeth down on my lips until they hurt. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to break down in the middle of the chapel in front of Fake Elvis and his chain-smoking assistant, Mavis.

“Do you love me, Violet?” Landon’s eyes were moist.

This was killing me. It felt like there was a large animal sitting across my chest, crushing me. My phone beeped again.

Landon’s eyes cooled. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

I sniffled, reality setting in. It was a knife in the head. “Yes.”

Fake Elvis deemed this moment worthy of a song, so he drew a breath and began singing “Fools Rush In.”

Landon put a hand up in his face. “Do you mind?” Then, turning back to me, his frown deepened. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you love me?”

In that instant, I could see Gabe’s face in my mind’s eye and sense his fingers sweeping across my cheek to brush a strand of hair back from my face. Every touch, every laugh, every kiss he and I had ever shared was burned into my brain.

This wasn’t going to work. No matter how hard I tried, and no matter how deep into

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