Just For This Moment

Chapter 1-2

“They’ll make such beautiful babies, with her pretty face. Better hope for a boy first because those girls will be so pretty, they’ll need a big brother to beat the boys off.”

Why did I let Mom and Leah talk me into this?

Piper Parish sat in the middle of a long table at the Wishful Country Club, as black-and-white clad wait staff wove around the bridal party, removing the salad plates—spinach and strawberry salad with poppyseed dressing, of course—contemplating whether it might be more enjoyable to stab herself in the eye with her salad fork, as she listened to her Great Aunt Beatrice extol the virtues of the bride-to-be. Carrie Jo was a jobless, twenty-two-year-old, barely out of college, who had no actual aspiration in life beyond getting her MRS degree, which she’d be achieving on Saturday. She was also Piper’s cousin, which was exactly how Piper had been roped into being part of the bridal party. Considering she had actually changed Carrie Jo’s diapers, that was a little bit demoralizing.

As the main course appeared—nothing but chicken salad would do for a bridesmaids’ luncheon—Piper wondered if she could get away with ordering a mimosa or three in the name of celebration. Given this was the Southern Baptist side of the family, she thought not.

More’s the pity.

“I heard Richard wants her to stay home so they can go ahead and start trying for a family.”

Yeah, that’s because they already got started on that part.

Not that Carrie Jo had mentioned it. But as a nurse, Piper was well-attuned to the signs. That glow sure as hell wasn’t wedding happies. She wasn’t showing yet, and Piper was reasonably sure no one else in the family knew or suspected. Considering the holy hell that would break loose if they found out—at least before Saturday—Piper wasn’t about to be the one to reveal that secret. Let Carrie Jo have her day with as little drama as possible.

“So, when are we going to be hearing wedding bells for you, Piper?” Aunt Bea asked. “You’ve already let Leah beat you on that one.”

Piper sipped at her sweet tea and muttered. “Last time I checked, marriage wasn’t NASCAR.” Not that anybody in her family recognized that fact. Her baby sister had beat her in the race to the altar three years prior, at the ripe young age of twenty-four. And she’d delighted the entire family by immediately providing the first grandchild a year later. A boy, Preston, who, Piper was forced to admit, was cute as the dickens. Leah was winning points left and right.

The remark earned her an aggravated look from her mother. It was an expression Piper was intimately familiar with.

“What’s that, dear?” her great aunt asked.

“Nothing. No wedding bells for me any time soon, Aunt Bea.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. But surely there’s someone special?”

Because the idea that her life could revolve around something other a man certainly didn’t compute.

Before Piper could think of a snark-free reply to that, her phone vibrated. It was purely verboten that she had it out of her purse at all, but if she was caught, she had the excuse of being on-call at the clinic. Not that she actually was today, but they didn’t know that.

She slid the phone from beneath her napkin and swiped to unlock the screen.

Myles: Time’s up, Buttercup. When can I see you?

Piper’s cheeks warmed, and she had to fight back the grin tugging at her lips.

Speaking of someone special.

The new-in-town and very sexy Myles Stewart had been her unexpected co-star in last fall’s production of White Christmas. He’d been at auditions to write a story about the show and decided to audition himself just for the chance to meet her. She’d spent the last months of autumn fighting the zing between them, sticking to her self-imposed rule about not dating her romantic lead. He hadn’t blinked when she’d issued a cool-down period so that whatever intimacy engendered by the show could fade. Instead, he’d spent the entire three months sending her outrageous texts and a daily notice of the countdown. She’d done her best not to respond too often, encourage him too much. But those texts had been the highlight of her days, keeping that zing alive and well and impatient. And then there was karaoke night. She lived for the chance to sing with him. They’d been carrying on the subtle flirtation through song all these months.

And now the wait was over.

Thank God.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, prepared to tap out a reply—Is now too soon?

“Piper!” The sound of her mother’s voice almost made Piper drop the phone. “Are you on your phone?”

“No ma’am. I was just checking in with the clinic.” Reluctantly, she slid the phone back into her purse beneath her mother’s disapproving eye. She’d be hearing about this later.

Just as well she hadn’t answered yet. Between work and all the wedding events, she wouldn’t actually be free until after Saturday. Maybe Saturday night if the reception didn’t run too late.

“What were you saying about who you were dating?” Aunt Bea asked.

Of course she hadn’t lost that line of questioning.

Piper considered saying something about Myles, but the last thing she wanted was any of her nosy relatives going to bother him at work to find out who his people were. Besides, they weren’t dating. Yet.

“I haven’t had a lot of time for dating lately. We just recently wrapped the production of The Mousetrap.” She didn’t usually go out for the non-musical roles, but she’d needed the distraction to keep from giving in to the temptation to blow her rule all to hell and jump straight into things with Myles—which, given the level of that zing, would likely have led straight to bed, thus breaking another personal rule. “Were you able to make it out to see the show? We got rave reviews.”

“That’s nice, honey, but you really should devote more time to finding yourself a husband. That biological clock is ticking and you don’t have all that much time left.”

“Right, because my ability to pop out babies is my only valuable attribute as a woman, and, at twenty-nine, I’m ancient and my uterus is populated by dust and cobwebs.”

“Piper Elizabeth!” Her mother’s middle name invocation brought all conversations at the table to a screeching halt. Nearly a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her.

At Twyla’s look of censure, Piper ducked her head. “Sorry, Mama.”

This was her longest standing and most challenging role to date. Pretending to give a damn about what the rest of her family thought she ought to be doing with her life. Because certainly what she actually wanted didn’t matter to any of them. God forbid she be anything but the traditional, dutiful, meek Southern daughter.

Carrie Jo’s mama jumped into the conversational breach. “Piper, I’m just going over some last-minute details with the caterer,” Jolene waved her own cell phone and nobody got on to her. “I think your reply card got lost in the mail. Do you have a plus one for the reception?”

This just keeps getting better and better.

She nearly said yes. For two long seconds, Piper considered asking Myles if he’d be her plus one. She doubted he’d say no and, God knew, his company would make the wedding less of a misery for her. But then her family would know about him. And he’d know about her family. Neither of those things seemed likely to lead to a desire for him to spend more time with her. Better to suck it up and admit the truth.

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

Piper called on all her acting chops to keep her smile fixed in place and set in polite rather than feral lines.

Carrie Jo’s Aunt Rae spoke up. “I could set you up with Forest Langford. He’s getting out again since his divorce.”

“What about Quincy Blackmon?” Libby Newsom, the maid of honor, suggested.

Piper lifted a hand to stop the commentary and offers of pity dates. “No, really, it’s all right. I avoided having a plus one on purpose.”

They all stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

“I just thought I could be of more help if I wasn’t having to entertain a date. There’s so much to manage, after all.” A blatant lie, but it effectively turned the tide of pity.

“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing?” Jolene declared. “Since you’re…unencumbered, can I get you to—”

As Jolene took advantage of Piper’s slip up to pile on additional wedding duties, all Piper could do was grin and bear it.

Three more days. Three more days and this insanity is over.