Page 18 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

THURSDAY

Her wedding day .

From the moment K.D. woke, the words drummed in her head.

Hard enough to drive her out of bed and down to the kitchen even before the sun took hold.

She was drinking a glass of water when Eric came in.

She braced for questions about why she was up so early. Well, he was, too. So if there were nerves—

“I’m going for a run. Want to go?” he asked.

“You’re a lawyer. Aren’t you supposed to play tennis and golf?”

“I do.” That had some snap to it. So did the words that followed. “I also play poker with the guys. Scrabble with my family at holidays, Go Fish with nieces and nephews. And I run, usually by myself, so if you don’t want to go—”

It occurred to her that he’d know the better places to run.

It made sense to go with him.

“I’m coming.”

*

They stretched in silence before he set an easy pace, side by side.

It didn’t stay as easy because of the terrain. But she’d been right about him knowing good places. Light and respectful traffic, decent footing on the paths, terrific views.

When the path narrowed to single file, sometimes he dropped back and let her go first, sometimes he took the lead. After a few of those change-offs, she thought he took the lead when the way might not be clear, had her go first otherwise.

Their strides matched well. So did their rhythm.

Neither of them said anything until they came to an area with a paved path on a relatively level patch.

“Sprint?”

He started before she finished the question. She was after him immediately. Caught up only at the end, so it was hard to tell if she’d caught him with her speed or he’d slowed up for the change of footing.

They settled back to the easier pace all the way back.

After their cool downs, he said only, “Nice run.”

She found herself smiling a bit as she went upstairs.

Because the run had blown out a few cobwebs? Because she heard Pauline telling him to get his sweaty body out of the kitchen? Because it had been a nice run?

All of the above?

*

The run had helped, but the drumming words that awakened K.D. now trimmed down to two:

Her wedding .

She’d been so sure she’d never have cause to think those words, so sure this would never happen that she’d never considered she might need to brace against it.

Get a hold of yourself, K.D.

It’s fake.

Pretend.

A necessary part of their cover story .

A make-believe wedding, that’s what Rebecca called it … and there Rebecca sat on her side of the aisle, smiling broadly at her.

This was Rebecca’s fault.

In the instant not long ago when Rebecca turned her toward the mirror and she’d seen herself in the white dress and wispy veil, her guard threw down its weapons and cried, My wedding .

The act that would turn her into a wife.

A fake wife.

Pretend wife.

For their cover story.

All of them turned to look at her, smiling and smiling and smiling at her.

She rested her hand on Grif’s arm and tried to focus on the strange outfits of the supposed wedding guests. Anything to get her mind off the short walk ahead of her.

Fake.

Pretend.

Cover story.

Kendra’s idea to make it seem there were more guests than this small group had been embraced by all.

Kendra would call out when she shot them from the waist down or the waist up — doubling the “guests” who appeared in the video without increasing the number of attendees.

Grif wore one suit jacket to walk her down the aisle, with another waiting for when he played best man.

Pauline, now sitting in the audience, would slip on an oversized maid of honor dress over her clothes, both to add another attendee and to give her a different silhouette.

With a quick clothes change, Daniel would portray minister and multiple guests.

It would require careful editing by Kendra to avoid slip-ups.

Because only she and Eric wore a complete outfit from head to toe.

Eric .

She hadn’t seen him since the end of their run.

Not because of superstition.

It simply worked out this way. She’d driven here to Far Hills Ranch for the final fitting this morning.

By the time she’d returned to his house in Bardville, he’d been driving south to the Schmidts’ tiny shop in Casper to pick up the rings. Then he came straight to Far Hills Ranch. Pauline drove herself and K.D. here for the final prep.

She knew Eric had succeeded in picking up the rings, because Pauline, as her pretend matron of honor, showed her the groom’s ring she held for the ceremony and gave K.D. the engagement ring to put on.

Mr. Schmidt had been as good as his word. The engagement ring fit perfectly.

It didn’t feel as weird as she’d expected.

Music started.

Not Your Cheating Heart or Love Stinks .

She almost giggled.

She never giggled.

Get a grip, K.D.

Concentrate on what needed to be done.

This music sounded so famil— The Wedding March . The honest to goodness, never-thought-for-a-moment-she’d-ever-be-the-bride-it-announced Wedding March .

Grif started forward. If she didn’t move, he’d be way ahead of her, dragging her along by the arm. She took a step. Then another. If she didn’t concentrate, she’d fall on her face. This video would be all outtakes.

“That’s it. One step at a time,” Grif murmured, placing his free hand over hers as it rested on his arm.

One more step. She could do that.

Another. Focus straight ahead.

… To where Eric stood. Looking back at her.

With such a strange expression. Solemn, with something else mixed in. She looked at him as another step brought them closer.

Several something elses mixed into his expression. And she didn’t recognize any of them.

Yet somehow taken together, the look added stability to her knees.

The job.

That’s what mattered.

He understood that, too. That had to be behind his look.

One more step. Focus straight ahead. Another. And another.

They were there.

Grif removed his hand from atop hers. As if Grif’s hand had weighed hers down, it rose, met Eric’s and clasped. They turned together to face Daniel.

“Dearly beloved—”

“Hold it!” Kendra called out. “Nobody move. I have to take stills.”

*

This wedding was even stranger than Eric expected.

He’d figured it might raise memories of marrying Hilary. It didn’t.

This was not a “fashionable” suburban Chicago church packed with people the bride insisted had to be there. In fairness, he hadn’t protested. As long as his family and friends were there, he’d figured the others didn’t matter.

Only in retrospect did he realize how little time he’d spent that day with his family and friends.

No worries about that today, since it wasn’t real.

It also was strange.

Like getting married trapped inside an old movie where the film kept breaking. They’d get through one section of the pared-down ceremony, Kendra would stop everybody, shift to her still camera, then skitter around them while they were allowed to make only the minutest adjustments.

Then Kendra shifted back to video, and off they’d go again. But only for a short spell.

When he’d first spotted K.D. about to start down the aisle on Grif’s arm, he’d thought she might pass out. That’s how pale she was.

Tall and regal in a flow of silky white that had to be complicated to look that simple. And that good. Her softly upswept hair revealed feathery wisps under a breath of a veil.

It was as if she came out of a dream, yet no mistaking her reality.

Or the reality of his reaction to her.

She’d looked at him, and he couldn’t have looked away for anything on this earth.

When she’d put her hand in his, they’d looked into each other’s eyes, then turned to face the minister, and it had been as if—

No. Not the minister. Daniel. None of this was real.

While his self-reminders grew threadbare from repetition, he’d seen and felt K.D. gain confidence as the process ground on.

They’d repeated vows in fragments, exchanged rings for multiple angles, and Daniel intoned already familiar words multiple times. They were almost done.

But not quite.

By the ease of the woman beside him, he recognized one fact for sure.

He was entirely aware of what came next. And K.D. wasn’t.