Read Online On the Way to a Wedding by Suzanne Stengl - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Suzanne Stengl
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bring dinner.”
“But―”
“You like pizza?”
Her mother fluttered into the room. “Victoria, I was looking for you. What did the doctor say? Will your ankle be all right?”
Ryder looked at Toria, right into her deep green eyes. “Well?”
She looked back at him, holding his gaze. He could see the struggle going on in her mind, the weighing of options. And then she nodded.
“Victoria?” Her mother again, asking for attention. “Will it be all right?”
Toria’s face showed doubt and wariness, and something he couldn’t name. She seemed to brace herself. “It’s a sprain,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”
Her mother exhaled, like she’d had a close call. Finally, she looked at Ryder. “What are you doing here?”
Oddly, it felt like an attack. He took a step back from the stretcher, set his stance and felt the need for discretion. “Toria forgot her purse in my truck.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “She’s so forgetful. And it’s Vic-toria. You don’t still use that nickname do you, Victoria?”
With her mouth half open, Toria stared at her mother.
“Let’s go then. I have to meet Geraldine. The chef at the Red and―”
“She needs crutches first.” Somebody needed to stand up for Toria, since she didn’t seem to be standing up for herself. At least not with her mother.
Mrs. Whitney stared at him. “Crutches?”
“Yeah. They’re these stick-like things that you lean on. They help you to walk.”
Mrs. Whitney watched him for a second longer. And then she laughed. “What a funny man. Yes. Well. Where do we get the crutches?”
“Physiotherapy will bring them.” He handed Mrs. Whitney the prescription. “You’ll need to get this filled for her.”
Mrs. Whitney glanced at the paper and then looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my. So many things to do.” She stared at her daughter on the stretcher and shook her head. “Victoria, you can be so much trouble.”
· · · · ·
Toria watched him leave, saw his tall dark form turn around the corner of the nursing station and disappear from sight.
Why had she agreed to let him come over tonight?
“How long will this take?” Her mother glanced at her watch. She was probably tapping her foot.
But what was the alternative? If she hadn’t agreed, he would have hauled in her luggage—and the infamous wedding dress. And―
“Geraldine and I need to meet with the caterers at the Red & White club.”
And if her mother saw the luggage, and especially the wedding dress―
Might as well face it. She was afraid of what Mrs. Samantha Whitney would think of her ungrateful daughter. Her forever ungrateful daughter.
What would her mother say if she knew Toria had packed, taken the wedding dress her father had spent so much money on, and left?
And not only left, but gone to see Aunt Glenda. Her mother and Aunt Glenda might not be speaking to each other, but Toria liked Aunt Glenda. Aunt Glenda listened.
“This Physiotherapy is taking forever.”
Was she doing the right thing by ending this wedding? Maybe she should just postpone? In February, she’d said a year. They could get married next January. That might have worked.
But Greg’s mother—the wedding planner—had said no one got married in January. It would have to be June. June was the month for weddings.
And so Toria had agreed to June. But to the following June, not this June. Somewhere along the line, her mother and Geraldine had advanced the date.
Behind the curtains, Toria could hear someone coughing—a young girl, trying to catch her breath.
“I should go. I’ve called Greg. He can take you home.”
A buzz of adrenaline flashed through her body and she stiffened. “You called Greg?”
“Why, of course.” Her mother lifted her eyebrows. “He’s your fiancé. You’ve been in an accident. He’d want to―”
“He has meetings in the afternoon.”
“I know. I left a message for him.”
“He never interrupts a meeting.”
“Yes, of course, but
“But―”
“You like pizza?”
Her mother fluttered into the room. “Victoria, I was looking for you. What did the doctor say? Will your ankle be all right?”
Ryder looked at Toria, right into her deep green eyes. “Well?”
She looked back at him, holding his gaze. He could see the struggle going on in her mind, the weighing of options. And then she nodded.
“Victoria?” Her mother again, asking for attention. “Will it be all right?”
Toria’s face showed doubt and wariness, and something he couldn’t name. She seemed to brace herself. “It’s a sprain,” she said. “It’ll be fine.”
Her mother exhaled, like she’d had a close call. Finally, she looked at Ryder. “What are you doing here?”
Oddly, it felt like an attack. He took a step back from the stretcher, set his stance and felt the need for discretion. “Toria forgot her purse in my truck.”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “She’s so forgetful. And it’s Vic-toria. You don’t still use that nickname do you, Victoria?”
With her mouth half open, Toria stared at her mother.
“Let’s go then. I have to meet Geraldine. The chef at the Red and―”
“She needs crutches first.” Somebody needed to stand up for Toria, since she didn’t seem to be standing up for herself. At least not with her mother.
Mrs. Whitney stared at him. “Crutches?”
“Yeah. They’re these stick-like things that you lean on. They help you to walk.”
Mrs. Whitney watched him for a second longer. And then she laughed. “What a funny man. Yes. Well. Where do we get the crutches?”
“Physiotherapy will bring them.” He handed Mrs. Whitney the prescription. “You’ll need to get this filled for her.”
Mrs. Whitney glanced at the paper and then looked up at the ceiling. “Oh my. So many things to do.” She stared at her daughter on the stretcher and shook her head. “Victoria, you can be so much trouble.”
· · · · ·
Toria watched him leave, saw his tall dark form turn around the corner of the nursing station and disappear from sight.
Why had she agreed to let him come over tonight?
“How long will this take?” Her mother glanced at her watch. She was probably tapping her foot.
But what was the alternative? If she hadn’t agreed, he would have hauled in her luggage—and the infamous wedding dress. And―
“Geraldine and I need to meet with the caterers at the Red & White club.”
And if her mother saw the luggage, and especially the wedding dress―
Might as well face it. She was afraid of what Mrs. Samantha Whitney would think of her ungrateful daughter. Her forever ungrateful daughter.
What would her mother say if she knew Toria had packed, taken the wedding dress her father had spent so much money on, and left?
And not only left, but gone to see Aunt Glenda. Her mother and Aunt Glenda might not be speaking to each other, but Toria liked Aunt Glenda. Aunt Glenda listened.
“This Physiotherapy is taking forever.”
Was she doing the right thing by ending this wedding? Maybe she should just postpone? In February, she’d said a year. They could get married next January. That might have worked.
But Greg’s mother—the wedding planner—had said no one got married in January. It would have to be June. June was the month for weddings.
And so Toria had agreed to June. But to the following June, not this June. Somewhere along the line, her mother and Geraldine had advanced the date.
Behind the curtains, Toria could hear someone coughing—a young girl, trying to catch her breath.
“I should go. I’ve called Greg. He can take you home.”
A buzz of adrenaline flashed through her body and she stiffened. “You called Greg?”
“Why, of course.” Her mother lifted her eyebrows. “He’s your fiancé. You’ve been in an accident. He’d want to―”
“He has meetings in the afternoon.”
“I know. I left a message for him.”
“He never interrupts a meeting.”
“Yes, of course, but
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