Daniel walked down to dinner alone, hands in his pockets, feeling too much like the odd man out. Hanging out with Melinda's father for the day hadn't been half bad—until he had suggested they go back to Daniel's room…and then wouldn't leave. Daniel had a feeling the old man was hiding from his wife. Daniel had been grateful when Melinda showed up and helped rescue him, though she hadn’t known that was what she was doing. She had acted like he had been the hero, but it had been the other way around. Daniel couldn't have Melinda's parents fighting; otherwise, he was afraid his suite would become Mr. Garrett's permanent residence for the weekend.
Although Melinda's parents had instructed Daniel to charge everything to his room, he didn't want to take advantage of their generosity and he purposely steered away from the higher-end restaurants the resort offered. That, and he wouldn't be comfortable there. He had never felt at ease around those who enjoyed a lifestyle of luxury on a regular basis. But seeing that the resort didn't host any hamburger joints, Daniel had to settle for one that was more middle-of-the-road.
He was just being seated when he noticed Mark sitting by himself at the next table. The man looked downright pitiful, like he was facing an execution rather than an upcoming wedding. Mark stared at his menu but didn't seem to be reading it.
"Just one moment," Daniel told the hostess, who stood by with his menu.
Mark looked up, startled, when Daniel approached him.
"No bachelor party for you this evening?"
Mark shook his head. "I—I didn't invite any of my friends to the wedding."
Daniel tried not to show his surprise. "Do you mind if I eat with you?"
Mark paused, but then nodded.
Daniel sat across from him and the hostess left them with their menus. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask," he said. "Why wouldn't you invite any of your friends? Everything about this weekend seems strange to me. Between your missing groomsmen and Bree's missing bridesmaids—"
"We're not getting married," Mark interrupted.
Daniel's jaw slackened. "What?"
Mark let out a long sigh. "I don't know how we let it get this far. We went out on one date to please our fathers, and they seemed so thrilled with the idea. I guess we just kept it going, thinking there would be a natural breaking point where we'd split up. Except, that day never happened. And pretty soon my dad was talking about partnering with Bree's dad for a side venture and…" He buried his face in his hands. "And now we're at a fancy resort, both trying to figure out how we're going to end this thing."
Daniel didn't know what to say. And he’d thought his and Melinda's fake engagement was bad—he no longer felt quite as guilty as he had. "So…you not wanting to golf this morning…"
"Oh, it was certainly in part due to your obvious lack of skill," Mark said. "But I was also glad for the excuse to not have to spend time with Mr. Garrett."
"You two don't seem to be on the best of terms," Daniel said.
The waitress brought glasses of water to their table and asked for their orders. Mark knew what he wanted, but Daniel hadn't even glanced at the menu. Looking down, he chose the first thing he saw. He couldn't pronounce it, so he just pointed to it and the waitress jotted it down.
"I didn't peg you for the type," Mark said, his lips pulled into a half-smile, as the waitress hurried away.
"And what type is that?"
"Let's just say that your tastes are a bit more refined than I would have expected."
Daniel glanced anxiously in the direction their waitress had disappeared. "What exactly did I order?"
"Escargot."
Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now I know how to pronounce it. What is it?"
"You'll see," Mark said with a smile. He was enjoying the situation far too much for Daniels comfort.
Daniel didn't want it to seem like it was a big deal, so he shrugged and said, "I believe we were talking about you and Mr. Garrett."
Mark studied Daniel while tapping a finger on the table. "Let's change the subject and talk about you and Melinda instead."
"What is there to tell?" Daniel said, not wanting the conversation to turn in this direction. "Most people don't see it, but she's an amazing, strong person. I've been drawn to her ever since I moved to Amor." He paused. "What are you going to do about the wedding? Surely you won't take it as far as the altar."
Mark raked a hand through his hair. "We can't. I mean, Bree doesn't even have a dress. She keeps telling her mom that it's bad luck for her to see the dress before the wedding day."
"I thought it’s bad luck for the groom to see it."
"It is, but miraculously it has kept Mrs. Garrett from pushing the subject too much. Which means she only asks about it several times a day, compared to a hundred times a day."
Daniel chuckled. "Yeah, Mrs. Garrett is a character, all right."
Mark snorted. "More like a nightmare." He shook his head. "Do me a favor and don't tell anyone about this."
"And risk an early demise? No thanks. You can have that honor."
They were interrupted when the waitress laid two plates in front of them. Mark had ordered a pasta dish with some sort of a creamy red sauce. It looked delicious. And then Daniel looked down.
"Um…what am I looking at?"
Mark smirked. "What does it look like?"
"Snails. It looks like snails. But that's not possible because I purposely avoided the fanciest restaurants so I wouldn't have to worry about stuff like this." The smell was as revolting as the slimy little bodies that poked out of their shells.
"Too much for a small-town boy like yourself to handle?" Mark asked.
"It should be too much for anyone to handle." Daniel poked at one of the snails with his fork, then looked up at Mark. "Would you care for an appetizer?"
"Don't mind if I do," Mark said, taking the plate.
Daniel raised a hand and their waitress instantly reappeared by their table. "Can I see the menu again? It appears that there has been a mistake." When the waitress opened her mouth to apologize, he shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's all mine."
The waitress glanced nervously over her shoulder, as if to make sure her manager hadn't heard the exchange, and then hurried off to get a new menu for Daniel.
"I think you just gave her a few more gray hairs," Mark said.
"What are you talking about? She can't be older than twenty-five."
Mark smirked. "Exactly."
Daniel sighed as their waitress returned. "I really am sorry," he said. He was pretty sure she wouldn't be the only one with gray hairs before the weekend was through.
"This place is packed," Melinda shouted, trying to be heard above the music. The bass was turned up so high that the floor shook.
"Well, we wanted to go dancing, and this was the only place for people under the age of sixty," Bree yelled back. "Should we try for a place that isn't going to make us need hearing aids before we're through?"
"What about your friends? Do you want to wait for them before we head off?" Melinda rubbed her temples. She had never enjoyed clubs, but figured this was the type of place bachelorette parties were expected to be at.
Bree shook her head. "No, I'll text them. They're running a little late anyway."
Melinda took the lead and they pushed their way through sweaty people who had tried to compensate by wearing half a bottle of cologne. When Melinda burst through the doors, she sucked in the cool night air. "Oh my gosh, it felt like I was being buried alive in there."
Bree stood next to her, her hair piled on top of her head and a form-fitting strapless dress accentuating her figure. Melinda tried not to be jealous, but Bree had gotten everything good that life could give her: beauty, brains—and freedom.
"Seriously. You couldn't pay me enough to go back in," Bree said with a laugh. She turned to Melinda. "Where to next?"
Melinda glanced around the resort grounds. The sun had set an hour before and the only shadows left were the ones cast by tall lamps. "I don't know." She released a sigh. "I'm sorry. I know this wasn't the bachelorette party you had in mind. I'm just not good at this kind of stuff. I hope your friends won't be too disappointed."
"They won't be," Bree said. "Hey, why don't we just order room service and watch chick flicks?"
"No," Melinda protested. "I'm not going to be the lame sister who couldn't think up a fun night out on the town…or resort. Or prison. Wherever we're at right now." She instantly clamped her lips shut. As much as this weekend was hard on her, Bree didn't deserve to have it ruined by her snarky sister. But to Melinda's relief, Bree laughed.
"Hey, I am right there with you. Honestly, a night in is exactly what I need," she said. "I've been shuffled around to so many places, I'd like to be allowed to dress down for once, drink soda until I belch, and not worry if I have garlic breath."
Melinda smiled and began walking the path toward the hotel. "So, that's your ideal girls’ night out, huh? Garlic breath—a girl's dream come true."
"Yeah, it is." Bree glanced at Melinda. "What's yours?"
Melinda paused mid-step. She wouldn't know. She didn't have any friends to have a girls’ night out with. She was too busy with the diner, and even if she weren’t, Melinda wasn't exactly friend material. She had sabotaged any potential friendships years ago.
"You coming?" Bree asked, now a few steps ahead of her.
"Yeah," Melinda said, catching up. "I think I'd like to go camping for a girls’ night out."
"Camping?" Bree asked, wrinkling her nose. "Why would you want to do that?"
"To prove that I can," Melinda said. "I've never built a fire before or put up a tent because the man always assumes it’s his responsibility. I mean, growing up, Dad always did it, right?"
Bree nodded. "Yeah, and we were more than happy to let him do it."
"Can you imagine a group of girls figuring out how to do all that stuff on our own? It would be hilarious."
"You are a strange one," Bree said with a small laugh. "But I have to admit, it could be kind of cool."
When they reached Bree's room, they grabbed the menu and decided that anything that had vegetables was off limits. "Unless it's garlic," Melinda teased.
"Garlic isn't a vegetable," Bree said, jumping on the bed and crossing her legs.
"You're going to argue with the woman who owns her own restaurant?"
Bree rolled her eyes. "It's not yours; you manage it. And I bet you haven't cooked a thing your entire life."
It was true that Melinda didn't cook, but she did the ordering and knew that Claire placed garlic in the vegetable category on the inventory form. "That's one of the perks of basically living at a restaurant. I have my own personal chefs," Melinda said, sticking her tongue out at her sister. She looked over the appetizers. "Hey, do you think your friends would rather mozzarella sticks or onion rings?" She picked up the hotel phone.
Bree didn't answer.
When Melinda glanced up, her sister was staring at her, as if trying to telepathically communicate with her. "What?"
"They aren't coming."
"Who’s not?"
Bree turned away. "My friends."
Melinda set down the phone and sat on the bed next to her sister. "And your maid of honor…is she really pregnant?"
"I never had one," Bree said with a shake of her head.
Melinda couldn't make sense of it. Why would her sister lie about her bridesmaids? Did she not have friends and was embarrassed to tell anyone? But that couldn't be. This was Bree. The woman she was always jealous of—the one who was living the life Melinda was meant to have. "What happened?"
Bree sucked in a shuddered breath. "I didn't invite anyone, because I'm not getting married." She paused, like she needed to let that sink in. "I don't love Mark and he doesn't love me."
Despite their estranged relationship, Melinda felt such joy and love for her sister, she couldn't hold it in. She leaped from the bed and yelled, "Hallelujah!"
Bree looked uncertain, wearing a half-smile that wavered as she stared at Melinda. "Sorry?"
Melinda was surprised at how happy the news made her. She jumped back on the bed and hugged Bree. "You two have looked like the most miserable creatures on the planet. I couldn't figure it out, considering the bride-to-be is supposed to be practically glowing. Or so I've heard."
Bree brightened at Melinda's enthusiasm, but then her brows furrowed. "Yes, but how am I going to break the news to Mom and Dad? Both Mark and I have chickened out so many times, I ended up here—at my bachelorette party. And Mom and Dad have spent a fortune on the resort."
Melinda took Bree's hands in hers. "What can I do to help?"
Bree's eyes lit up and Melinda suddenly had the sense that she wasn't going to like whatever Bree was going to say next. "You and Daniel should get married instead."
"Uh…we're here for your wedding, not mine," Melinda said, wanting nothing more than to order those onion rings and throw on a movie like they had planned.
"But think about it. It's perfect. We're already here, the venue is reserved…"
"And I don't have a wedding dress or—"
"A ring," Bree said, inspecting Melinda's hand. She looked up. "Why don't you have your ring on? You've already spilled the beans on the engagement; it's not like you have anything to hide now."
Nope. Nothing to hide. "I left it in my jewelry box back home," Melinda said, the lie tasting bitter. Her sister had just opened up to her and was receiving dishonesty in return. But Melinda couldn't risk her mother finding out, not until they agreed to sell the diner to Devon and Claire.
Bree narrowed her eyes. "I've also noticed a lack of physical contact between you two. Like, you've held hands maybe twice. And not a single kiss."
"We just aren't ones for public displays of affection," Melinda said. "But we're definitely engaged." She prayed Bree wouldn't notice what a stupid thing that was to say. Of course they were engaged, and drawing attention to it would only make Bree more suspicious.
To her relief, Bree grinned. "Oh, I know that. Anyone can spot the chemistry between you two from a thousand miles away. I just think you shouldn't be afraid to flaunt what a good thing you have going."
Chemistry? What was she talking about? Melinda wanted to protest, but then remembered that Bree's misperception was a good thing.
"We'll work on it," Melinda said. "I suppose you know a bit about flaunting." She hadn't meant to say the last part. It was little more than an afterthought, but it reflected Melinda's feelings from the past decade. She just hadn't meant for Bree to ever know.
"What do you mean by that?" Bree asked, frowning.
"Nothing," Melinda said quickly. "Forget about it."
"No, I need to know. We haven't seen each other in years. Why would you accuse me of flaunting? You barely know anything about me anymore."
"You can thank our parents for that."
"Why? It's not like you made the effort to come see us either."
Melinda threw her arms into the air. "How can I when I'm stuck working eighty-hour weeks?"
"You have no idea how lucky you are," Bree said, her tone bitter. "I'd give anything to have your job. Instead Mom pushed me into enrolling in classes at the university in a major I care nothing about. She said there was an underrepresentation of women in the engineering field, and bribed me by saying she’d pay all my living expenses if I went to school to become an engineer. She said she had my best interests in mind, and I fell for it. So that's what I got thrown into. Maybe there aren't as many women in that field because they don't want to be engineers—had they ever thought of that? I'm bored to tears most days, designing things like airplane cup holders."
Melinda stared—then laughed. "Don't we make quite a pair? Somehow our parents have pushed us into lives that are the opposite of what we would have ever chosen for ourselves—and we let them. You with your fake wedding and career you hate."
"And you with the diner that you would give anything to escape from," Bree said, shaking her head.
And my fake engagement, Melinda added silently. She battled with herself, knowing that telling Bree would be the right thing to do. But what if she told Mom and Dad? She wouldn't though—right? Melinda had no idea. Was that a risk she should take?
"Now, back to you and Daniel taking over the wedding," Bree said with a wink. "It would really help a sister out."
"We're not engaged," Melinda blurted out, then squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to see Bree's reaction. But when she heard her sister's laughter, she slowly opened them.
Bree was doubled over, gasping for air. "Are you being serious right now?"
Melinda groaned. "We're not even dating. He's a friend of mine who agreed to come as my date. But when we were at dinner last night, I thought if Mom saw that I was in a stable relationship with a good guy, she'd agree to sell the diner to Devon and Claire."
"Oh man, this weekend just couldn't get better—or worse, depending on how you look at it."
Melinda covered her eyes with one hand. Her parents were going to kill one, or both, of them by the end of the weekend. "Can we just order some food already?" she said.
"Absolutely."
After ordering room service, Melinda looked her sister in the eyes. "You have to promise me you won't tell Mom and Dad about my fake engagement. Ever. We’re planning on ‘breaking up’ as soon as they’ve sold the diner, and there’s no reason for them to know."
"As long as you help me think of a way to tell them that Mark and I aren’t getting married. Maybe we could borrow your idea and stage a breakup out in public or something. If we haven’t been able to tell them before now, I’m not sure how we will ever manage it."
They linked pinky fingers and shook.
“What if I told them?” Melinda asked, an idea forming. “You and Mark could pack up and go your separate ways, and I could break the news to them. That would give them some time to calm down before you talk to them.”
“I don’t know.” Bree looked uneasy about the idea. “I don’t think Mom would ever speak to me again if I pulled something like that.”
“Is it any worse than telling her they just wasted thousands of dollars on a wedding that you never intended to go through with?”
Bree groaned. “This is so much worse than I imagined it would be.”
“And how exactly did you imagine it would be?” Melinda asked.
“I don’t know,” Bree said with a shrug. “I never wanted to be here in the first place. I tried to tell Mom shortly after the engagement. Mom was talking about making reservations at the resort and I told her I wasn’t feeling sure about the engagement. She brushed it off as nerves, then kept interrupting me and talking about how proud of me she was and how this relationship was going to be a good match, not just for me, but for the whole family. She was starting to gain higher social status and Dad was talking about his opportunities with this new venture. Before I knew it, I was helping pick out the menu for the rehearsal dinner.”
Melinda wrapped an arm around her sister. “We’ll come up with something.”
“I hope so.” Bree’s eyes brightened. “At least you get to be engaged to someone as amazing as Daniel. If you ever change your mind, just know that you two are darling together.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Melinda said. Though she still had her two very observant parents to convince. If Bree had noticed the lack of intimacy, so had their parents.
Melinda was going to need to crank it up a notch.