Josh and Ben had met in the ninth grade, become best friends, and remained close. Ben’s dad had never been a part of his life, and Ben’s mom had always been overstressed and cash-strapped. Holly couldn’t imagine her handling any mother-of-the-groom responsibilities for Ben’s wedding. None.
So Josh had relocated to Texas from now until Ben’s Thanksgiving weekend wedding so that he could give his friend the kind of support that counted. Ben had told Holly that Josh had taken over the planning and the funding for both the rehearsal dinner and the bachelor party weekend. Based on the Josh she’d known, his show of generosity and loyalty did not surprise her. “It’s nice of you to make the effort to be here for Ben.”
No affirmative reply.
“I’m Trinity Church’s volunteer wedding coordinator. Since Amanda and Ben have decided to get married at Trinity, I’ll be working with Amanda’s professional wedding coordinator behind the scenes, representing the church . . . Anyway, I’ll be helping out on Ben and Amanda’s big day.”
His tiger eyes continued to assess her with such absorbed concentration that her mouth went dry. Wrongly, her heart seemed to be gaining speed instead of steadying.
She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from babbling about the wedding or—at all costs—from blurting out that she was sorry. These many years later, that’s what she most wanted to say to him. It was a sentiment that had often filled the letters she’d written him and never sent, how horribly sorry she was for ruining what they’d had, when what they’d had, she’d realized more and more clearly over time, had been rare and beyond price. “How have you been, Josh? I’ve heard you’ve done very well.”
“I’ve been okay,” he said carefully.
“I’m glad.”
“How about you?” He asked it seriously, like he actually cared about the answer.
“Great.” She gave him a bright smile. He was super smart. He could probably see through it. It was a smile overly, falsely bright. “I write young adult novels.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“I. . . .” How did he know about her novels? “I . . . really love writing. When I’m not on a deadline, or banging my head against my keyboard, or out of ideas. Which is most of the time.”
In answer, his lips indented upward on one side. Josh had a face perhaps a bit too angular and a nose perhaps a quarter of an inch too long to be considered classically handsome. His was an arresting face, grave and interesting, appealing to Holly in ways hard to define. His straight dark brown hair had fallen across his forehead when they’d been dating. Now it looked as though he warmed an expensive men’s hair product in his palms, parted his hair on the side, then combed it back with his fingers to keep it in place.
Holly held onto her cup tray like a kickboard in a choppy sea. She really hoped her mascara hadn’t smudged or that the sip of coffee she’d taken before she’d seen him hadn’t left whipped cream on her lip.
“How’s your family?” he asked.
“They’re all fine. None of them live in Martinsburg anymore. My dad sold his construction business so now he and my mom only stay in their house here a few months of the year. The rest of the time they’re at the lake house or their apartment in Austin cuddling Mark’s baby—did you know that my brother got married and had a little boy?”
“I did know.”
Was Ben filling Josh in about her the way that Ben filled her in about him? “And Jessica’s in law school.”
He nodded.
“So I’m the only one left in town.” She gave a little shrug as if to say, I’m still living in Martinsburg, despite that my parents, older brother, and younger sister have all moved on. But I really don’t mind because I like it here and I’m very content and secure. Very! “How’s your mom?” Josh’s father had died when Josh was twelve.
Warmth slightly softened the austerity of his expression. “She lives in Colorado now, near her sister.”
“Is she retired?”
“She can retire whenever she wants.” Which Holly translated to mean that Josh had set her up in such luxurious style that she’d never have another financial care in her life.
“But she doesn’t like to sit still,” he continued. “She’s working at a charity that helps unemployed women find work.”
“That’s good to hear.” Before Josh’s mom had moved, Holly had run into her around town from time to time. Each meeting had filled her with complicated emotions of affection and pain. She didn’t blame his mom for asking her to break up with Josh all those years ago. How could you blame a person for advising you to do the right thing, the thing that had become the springboard for all the success Josh had achieved afterward? On the other hand, Josh’s mom couldn’t have known how very much Holly had loved Josh or how much losing him had devastated her. So, deep in her heart, she couldn’t bring herself to hold his mom completely blameless, either. She inhaled, seeking calm, rooting around for another topic of conversation—