Read an Excerpt
A February Bride
By Betsy St. Amant ZONDERVAN
Copyright © 2014 Betsy St. Amant
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-310-33829-1
CHAPTER 1
If wedding dresses could talk, Allie Andrews was fairlycertain hers would have a sailor's mouth.
Four months later—to the day, actually, after she'd shuckedout of her wedding dress in the backseat of the meant-to-behoneymoon car and gunned it down the highway with nothingbut a bottled Yoo-hoo and her favorite faded jeans forcompany—the dress hung on the inside of her closet door,the once small tear in the seam now gaping and taunting her.Every time she opened the closet, that rip reminded her howshe'd severed one of the few relationships in her life actuallyworth keeping.
Which was precisely why she had to give it away in the firstplace.
Allie grabbed her favorite purple sweater, the one sheoften wore to work at her antiques store since the air conditionerin the quirky old building refused to shut off yearround, and tugged it over her head. She could use all the cozycomfort she could get today at lunch with Hannah. She'd putit off long enough. After ditching her best friend's brotherat the altar, she'd fully expected Hannah to hold a grudge.Hannah's unconditional love expressed through multiplephone calls and text messages had been almost worse than thecold shoulder—harder to face than a much deserved grudge—whichwas probably why she'd been avoiding this meeting.
Besides, Hannah looked so much like her brother.
Allie's arm brushed against the dress as she adjustedher sweater, and the frothy number swayed on its paddedhanger. The swish of the fabric only seemed to whisper morecondemnation.
With a groan, she shut the closet door harder than necessary.She should just get rid of the thing, but it wouldn't beworth the wrath of her mother, grandmother, and aunt. Yeteven though they all threatened her within an inch of her lifeif she sold the dress or threw it away, not one of them wouldstore it at her own house. "It belongs to you now, and will until youwear it. Then you pass it down to your daughter."
Right. A daughter? Not at this rate.
And zero hope of getting over what she did to Marcus.Even if it was for his own good.
A knock sounded on her apartment door, and Alliedashed to get it, checking her watch. She needed to leave inless than ten minutes if she didn't want to be late, and witha long-time friendship already riding on this lunch, shereally shouldn't push it by appearing like she didn't care. Shepulled the door open.
Hannah, looking at once like her best friend and a totalstranger in a pink cashmere sweater and skinny jeans tuckedinto boots. She looked great—like she hadn't lost her bestfriend or spent the past several months comforting a broken-heartedbrother at all.
Maybe Allie hadn't mattered all that much to begin with.
"I was just heading out to meet you." Allie cautiouslyopened the door wider to allow her friend inside, bracingherself for ... something. And not just the chill of theJanuary air that rushed to meet her despite the heated hallway."Did I mess up the time?"
She took a step backward, and the heel of her boot caughton the striped rug under her feet. Maybe Hannah had changedher mind and decided to tell her off privately instead. Maybeshe'd realized a polite lunch in public was way more consideratethan Allie deserved.
"I couldn't wait another minute to tell you." Hannahshoved her left ring finger in Allie's face and let out anexcited squeal. "I'm engaged!" She jumped up and down,her curly dark hair bouncing against her shoulders.
Engaged.
The word twisted in Allie's throat and refused to rise toher lips. "That's ... that's ..."
What was it? Surprising? Not really. Hannah and Zachhad been dating for about six months, but she supposed noteveryone had to be together for several years before tying theknot. A long courtship hadn't exactly worked out for her andMarcus ...
"I know, right?" Hannah pushed past Allie and sank downonto the arm of the overstuffed turquoise chair, exactly as she'ddone a million times over the years. As if it were that easy topick up. Like the past few months hadn't changed everything.
Maybe they hadn't.
Hannah held up her hand again, this time keeping itsteady enough for Allie to focus on the significant princess-cutcarat adorning her finger. "Zach is perfect. Well, no,he's not. He's pretty much a slob, and we don't like any ofthe same movies." She snorted a laugh. "But we're perfecttogether."
Allie slowly sank to the edge of the couch near Hannah."Right. I understand." Sort of. She'd never felt like anythingbetween Marcus and herself had been perfect. He wasperfect, to be sure. As much as any six-foot, dark-haired,chocolate-eyed, car-loving athletic guy could be. The problemhad been Allie. She'd been the one to fall short, thanksto her family—and the curse that ran though her blood.
Once upon a time, when gazing into Marcus's eyes andfeeling the heady weight of that diamond on her finger, she'dthought she could break the family scourge. Break the effectof the words her mom had whispered when Stepdad #2 hadroared off on his Harley, and when Stepdad #4 had slammedthe door on his way to the bus stop, and when unofficialStepdad #5 had plucked his clothes from the front yard andshoved them into a trash bag before calling a taxi.
"Remember, Allie, this is what Andrews women do. We breakhearts before we get ours broken."
She could still remember the firm set of her mother'slips, the expressionless twist of her eyebrows, the wall of steelin her eyes. It was the same look Grandma had when anyonementioned her first or second husband, and the samelook Aunt Shelly got when she announced she was meetinganother man from her online dating profile.
If a leopard couldn't change its spots and a zebra couldn'tchange its stripes, who was Allie to change her blood?
Since Marcus was way too gentlemanly to break a promiseor dodge a bullet, she'd been the one forced to remove himfrom the line of sight.
A point no one seemed to understand.
Hannah grinned. "Of course you get it. I knew youwould, since you've been engaged ..." Her voice trailedoff, and she averted her gaze to the carpet. "I didn't meanto bring that up. Honest."
Her eyes radiated sincere regret, and Allie relaxed slightly.No firing squads. Just good ol' Hannah. "I was thinkingGeorge."
Hannah gave her a sharp glance, her brown eyes, as vividas Marcus's, sparkling suspiciously beneath her furrowedbrow. "What are you talking about?"
"Maybe Bob."
"I don't get it." Her voice hitched. "Are these guys you'vedated since—"
"Calm down." Allie winked. "I'm just trying to namethat elephant in the corner. He's been sitting there since youwalked in, so I thought we ought to give him a collar and ahome."
Hannah stared at her a minute longer before her lipsquivered into a hesitant smile, then morphed into a full-outgrin. "Funny. You had me there." She straightened hershoulders and arranged her features into a deadpan mask."Clearly, though, he's a Steve."
"Steve it is."
That hadn't been so hard. Maybe her years of friendshipwith Hannah demanded loyalty in spite of the sibling relationship.
Not that she would ever ask Hannah to choose—in fact,that was why she had refused all contact with her friend allthese months. She didn't want to put her in an even moreawkward position. And Marcus had enough to deal withwithout her creating family drama for him.
But the fact that Hannah was right here in her livingroom meant maybe they could find their way around this.After all, it wasn't like she'd have to see Marcus if she andHannah remained friends. Maybe he wouldn't even have toknow.
"Anyway, Steve wasn't why I came. You've made it clearyou don't want to talk about that, and I'll respect your wishes."Hannah rose from the chair and began to pace the small livingarea, pausing every few feet to nervously rearrange a knickknackon the mantel or straighten the royal purple pillowson the couch Allie had recently recovered. "I came to aska favor."
"Anything." The word leapt from Allie's grateful lipsbefore she could self-edit. She really would do anythingto get her relationship with Hannah back, to grasp somethinggood and familiar during this dismal season in herlife. Maybe she'd brought it on herself, but that didn't makeeverything any easier to cope with.
Because one fact remained—if she'd run down the aisleinstead of to her car that day, she'd have been married forfour months right now. She and Marcus would probably begetting ready to go to a celebration dinner, where he'd havesneaked a card under her dinner plate or arranged for thechef to make a heart with cherry tomatoes in her salad. Thatwas Marcus. Considerate. Romantic. Always thinking.
No question, she had done him a favor. They might havemade it a few months, but they wouldn't have made it a fewyears. No one in her family had ever made it past three—andgood grief, they'd all given it multiple tries.
"I'm glad you said that." Hannah's voice, and the squeakof a glass vase against the coffee table as her friend absentlyredesigned the floral arrangement, jerked Allie away fromher thoughts. She wondered if Hannah realized that the vasehad taken the place of the giant framed engagement photoof her and Marcus snuggled under an oak tree. "Because myfavor is sort of big."
Couldn't be as big as Steve.
"You know how I've always wanted a Valentine's Daywedding."
Hannah's eyes gleamed, and Allie could almost see cartoonish,pulsing pink hearts shooting out of her gaze.
"Well, that means we only have about six weeks. Actually,more like five."
"Five weeks. Wow, you're right. That is soon." Allie knewbetter than to assume there was a secret reason, though otherssurely would speculate. Marcus would hate those rumorsabout his sister. He'd always been so protective of the womenin his life.
"Really soon. So there's no time to lose." Hannah took adeep breath and twisted her ring on her finger.
"Whatever it is, I'm in." I owe you. The words fadedfrom her tongue but still burned an aftertaste. She did oweher friend. Whatever Hannah needed, it was Allie's turnto support her. After all, Hannah had reluctantly honoredAllie's desperate request to give her time and space afterthe wedding-that-wasn't, time and space from all thingsMarcus-related. Hannah had met her several hours afterAllie sped away from the church that day to pick up Marcus'scar, and their brief conversation had been tear-filledand beyond awkward. But Allie needed the chance to processher decision, and in allowing her that time, Hannahhad given her a gift that beat all the premium toasters andcoffeemakers in the world. Allie'd had to return those tothe store, so it was the least she could do to return this favorfor Hannah and keep their friendship alive.
Besides, what could be so bad? If Hannah's obviouswillingness to bury the hatchet was anything to go by, thisopportunity—whatever it may be—could be the catalyst toproving her ability to remain loyal to at least one memberof the Hall family. And having Hannah around again wouldease that unbearable loneliness that had taken over thesepast few months. There was no reason they couldn't rekindletheir friendship apart from her brother. No reason for herto have to be around him at all, really.
"I want you to be my maid of honor."
Except maybe that reason.
* * *
Marcus Hall wiped his grease-stained hands on an even dirtiershop rag, then tossed it onto the bench inside his garagebefore bending back over the car's fender. Rebuilding theengine in this '67 Corvette Stingray had proved to be a littlemore complicated than he'd anticipated—and he still had tocheck the clearance on the headers—but ever since his sisterbroke the news of her particular choice in bridesmaids, he'dappreciated the distraction.
She'd had to pick Allie? His Allie? The only woman who'dever made sense to him. The only woman who could make anobsession with anything in the shade of turquoise seem cute.The only woman who had ever possessed the power to steerhis heart straight over a cliff—and probably still did.
Guess he'd be finding out.
When Hannah broke the news yesterday, he threw hiswrench against the wall and nearly broke it. The resoundingclang had been all but drowned out by the warning alarmswailing in his head. Wasn't the fact that Valentine's Day wasright around the corner bad enough? The day he'd plannedto take Allie back to the scene of their first date, a day hethought he'd be spending as a happily married man. Nowhe'd be spending what should have been a special holiday athis little sister's wedding.
Standing across from his should-be wife as maid ofhonor.
He groaned. It was like a reality show setup gone bad.He'd always hated those things. Now he could practically starin one.
One thing was certain—Allie Andrews meant personalsystem malfunction. It'd been a solid four months since she'dpealed out of the church parking lot, and he still couldn'ttake a full breath when he heard her name. He should belivid over what she'd done, leaving him at the altar with noexplanation—or at least, so everyone told him. Maybe angerwould be easier to deal with than the ever-present pain, butthe emotion just wouldn't stick. Rolled right off like Rain-Xon a windshield.
The familiar click of heels on concrete alerted him tothe fact he was no longer alone. Hannah. He folded his armsover his chest and leaned against the wall, tipping his chinto acknowledge her presence. Two visits in two days. Never agood sign.
"You busy?" She offered a timid smile, and he droppedhis crossed arms, trying to make his own smile appear moregenuine than it felt. This was his little sister's big moment inlife. He wouldn't ruin it because of his own problems.
Even if Allie was a big problem.
"Just fighting this Chevy." To prove it, he picked up aratchet he didn't need and pretended to resume his work.There would probably be a whole lot more "fighting" if Allieshowed up to every prewedding shindig and unnecessarycouples showers people held for engaged people.
Definitely a whole lot more pretending.
Funny how he hadn't minded all that frou-frou stuffwhen it'd been his and Allie's celebration.
"I just drove over to make sure you weren't mad at me."Hannah shuffled inside, twisting her new diamond ringaround her finger. She had the same look on her face thatshe'd had as a kid when he busted her for playing with hismodel cars.
He straightened, mentally noting a need to check the timingon the engine. "Not mad." Not really. More like confused.Why resurrect her friendship with Allie now?
Some things just needed to stay dead.
Too bad his heart couldn't remember that fact.
Hannah shoved her dark hair behind her ears, the overheadgarage light catching the shine in her giant diamond.He wondered briefly—and not for the first time—what Alliehad done with hers. And what had happened to all those giftsthat had been piled up in the church?
And why he'd never taken his and Allie's wedding bandsback to the jeweler's instead of shoving them in his topdresser drawer.
"So did you hear any more about Texas?"
So obvious, his sister's change of subject. But he wasn'tgoing to argue. Marcus shrugged. "It's pretty much up to meright now, if I want to go there as regional manager for thenew store or just keep my franchise going here in Louisiana.Not sure I have the time right now." Well, he did, thoughbusiness had clearly picked up. He just wasn't sure he wantedto leave. Moving over the border, even temporarily, seemedlike some kind of significant Next Step. In the aftermathof losing Allie, it had seemed genius, a decent goal to worktoward. Now that it was within reach, it just made him feellike he was slogging boots through mud. Sticky. Heavy.
He hated that decisions were so hard these days.
"You know, you sure are here a lot now. You used to domore of your work from home." Hannah glanced around thepacked garage, full of his company's half-finished motors,three parked cars—one of which remained on a lift—and agrimy workbench covered in tools that his employees hadapparently not put away.
Marcus's heart constricted, desperate to prevent his sisterfrom saying the words he knew were coming next.
"Don't you think it's time to go back into your homegar—"
He intentionally nudged the factory headers across thefloor with his boot, the squeal of metal against concreteworse than fingernails on a chalkboard.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from A February Bride by Betsy St. Amant. Copyright © 2014 Betsy St. Amant. Excerpted by permission of ZONDERVAN.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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