IDo.com
IDo.com
Click and Wed.com Series, Volume 2
Bonnie R. Paulson
Published by Captiva Publishing, 2017.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
IDO.COM
First edition. February 21, 2017.
Copyright © 2017 Bonnie R. Paulson.
ISBN: 978-1386452683
Written by Bonnie R. Paulson.
Also by Bonnie R. Paulson
Clearwater County, The Montana Trails series
Montana Trails Series Box Set
Click and Wed.com Series
With This Click, I Thee Wed
IDo.com
DIY Vows
eHoneymoon
Keyword: I Do
Let US-B Wed
The Right Click
Standalone
Love Notes
Watch for more at Bonnie R. Paulson’s site.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Bonnie R. Paulson
IDo.com (Click and Wed.com Series, #2)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Sign up for Bonnie R. Paulson's Mailing List
Further Reading: DIY Vows
Also By Bonnie R. Paulson
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
I do.com
ClickandWed.com series
Bonnie R Paulson
ALEX REEVES IS SICK of jumping through hoops to make everyone but herself happy. When her courtship with a man chosen by her family comes to a surprising proposal, Alex leaves him at the altar in defiance.
But she has nowhere to go until her friend sends her a link – marry who you want!
Before she knows it, she’s on her way to Jeremy Aker’s ranch to discover the true blessings of family and just how much she needs to leap in faith. Can she trust her heart enough to find happiness? Or is she doomed to follow other people’s biddings?
Chapter 1
NOT VERY MANY PEOPLE worked on their wedding day.
Lifting my blonde ponytail from my neck, I untied the dark pink apron emblazoned with a large brown donut and white letters which read Reeves’s Café.
The back office was tight and only offered enough space for employees in small cubbies by the door. My own cubby was empty amongst others, which held candy bars, spare rubber bands, chewing gum, and feminine products. I didn’t even get to keep a time card since my parents paid me a salary. They liked to make me work whenever they needed.
I rolled my head to the side, stretching the front muscles of my neck. “Tired” wasn’t an adequate enough word for how I felt.
Earlier that morning, my mother had roused me from a really great sleep. She had told me to get into the café to cover the manager until she showed up later that morning. Mom had taken the day off because she wanted to get ready for my wedding and the reception.
Instead of covering the shift herself, she’d called me.
On my wedding day.
Apparently, I didn’t need to get ready. Which didn’t make any sense to me at all, but most of the things my parents decided for me didn’t make sense.
The night before had been a long, boring, bachelorette party – if that’s what you could call it. Sitting around listening to old women gossip about who was wearing what at church the previous Sunday was not my idea of fun, or what I wanted to do on my last night of freedom.
Apparently, though, that’s what Mrs. Burton and my mom had in mind as perfectly acceptable.
I braced my hands on the small desk and continued stretching my neck and shoulders. Elizabeth had fallen asleep on the tabletop at the restaurant, earning herself deep scowls and a murmured complaint from Mrs. Burton about my acquaintances changing once I was married. My returning glare hadn’t been received well. I’m not sure what she expected. No one would threaten my friendship with Elizabeth.
She was my best friend. She wasn’t the type of friend I hung out with and told secrets to. She was the friend that made the secrets with me and challenged me to make more. Our friendship had doomed her to the position of maid of honor at my wedding. Thankfully, she hadn’t stopped texting me all morning.
At least she was righteously outraged that I was working on my wedding day. She was always upset for me, even when I was too drained of energy to care. My mother was the type that sucked you dry and demanded more.
“Alex, did you happen to grab that last guy’s bill? He hasn’t paid me yet.” Monica, our morning waitress, stood in the doorway of the office with her hand on her hip and the coffee pot in the other. “I’m getting really sick of these dine and dashers.” She sighed, checking her up-do in the mirror.
I pointed toward the front and nodded. “Yeah, he paid. Your tip is in your envelope. I’m heading out. I’ve got to go get ready for the big day.” I rolled my eyes. Monica understood what was going on. She worked for my mom, for crying out loud. Even the amazing blueberry scones we baked fresh everyday didn’t take the saccharine taste of my mother out of your craw.
Monica reached out and slapped my shoulder. Her sudden movement flooded the small confines of the office with her rich perfume. Wrinkling her nose, she gushed, “Oh, my goodness, that’s right. Why are you in here on your wedding day? Girl, you are a workaholic.” She winked. There was no room in the office for her to turn around without spilling the coffee, so she backed into the storage area just outside the door. “You better get going. Good luck and congratulations.”
I nodded my thanks, but trained my gaze on the desk.
Congratulations. Yep. That’s exactly how I was feeling on my wedding day. Congratulations to Larry for getting me as a wife. Congratulations to his family for me making their son happy. Congratulations to my parents for getting what they want and having the Burtons as in-laws.
Unable to congratulate myself on a horrible match that I was not really interested in or that I felt at all comfortable with, I ignored the tears welling in my eyes at the thought of my future looming before me.
Bacon grease wafted on the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of the maple syrup on pancakes. I closed my eyes and tried to allow the comforting smells of the café envelope me, but they just reminded me of all the things I didn’t like about Larry. He was always there these days. Like the fact that the last time he’d come into the café, he’d made our evening waitress cry when she’d accidentally given him the apple pie and me his lemon meringue. He’d called her stupid and incompetent while smiling like a wolf. My jaw had dropped open, and I’d rushed off to console her. Not once did I stick up for her in front of him. I was a people pleaser and upsetting my chosen-for-me fiancé wasn’t the way I pleased anyone. Except myself.
Larry didn’t even like his mom. He had no respect for women or anyone he deemed less than himself. He had once called her a fat cow in front of her ladies’ group because she suggested he have only one dessert instead of two.
He’d looked at me and said, “If you ever turn out like that fat cow, I’ll leave you.” Then he’d looked around and laughed. Everyone else had laughed with him, because of course, who says that kind of thing? Unless it was a joke.
But Larry was a mean man who was good-looking as all get out. He reminded me of Gaston from the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast. Good-looking and everyone wanted him, but the one who saw the real him couldn’t get away.
That would be me.
And I was trapped.
Reaching up, I pinched the tight muscles between my neck and shoulders, wincing at the soreness of the flesh.
Larry was indifferent to me. He was only marrying me because it was expected. In our small town of Blackberry, Arkansas, neither of us had a lot of options. My parents owned three of the four restaurants in town and the Burtons wanted to have that kind of access to the public so Larry could take office one day.
My time would fast run out before I had to be in front of that preacher, God, and all those witnesses. I was more aware of the time passing than anyone else. I couldn’t hide at the restaurant any longer.
I carefully folded my apron and tucked it into my cubby. At least when I wasn’t there, my cubby had something inside it.
My cell phone buzzed against my leg. If it was Elizabeth, then I would let myself grab a raspberry and white chocolate scone on the way to the church. If it was my mother, maybe I should get two?
The text was from Mom. Two scones for me!
“The ceremony starts in an hour. Hurry!”
What was the rush? Why did I have to hurry up and get married? I glowered at the phone. I didn’t need to be married. Actually, if I was fully honest, I wouldn’t mind being married. I always wanted kids and to be married and be happy.
But I didn’t need it.
I ignored Mom’s text and grabbed my bag which held pretty much my entire life in it, from nylons to my sports bras for when I might want to go for a run – it’d been two years, and I still hadn’t used them.
The church was about three blocks away. I could walk that in less than five minutes. Sunshine blinded me when I stepped outside, and I blinked as I turned my head until my eyes adjusted. How ironic that the sun was so happy on the day I legally bound myself to a jerk. Why couldn’t the world weep that I was marrying someone like Larry?
The route took me past a coffee shop that my parents had tried to buy the year before, but the man and his wife had refused. I’d silently applauded them because I couldn’t stand up to my parents worth a goose’s poop. I loved seeing when other people did it.
A sign on their shop acted like an old-school reader board, and the man would put up random quotes or questions designed to inspire the reader or make them question themselves. The quotes usually made me laugh or nod in agreement. I’d once asked the owner where he got the quotes, and he’d answered that his wife was emailed random facts and quotes a few times a week, and he just took them from there. I loved the idea but could never find the site to sign up.
The sign that day read, “Are you doing what you want, or what you think others want?”
I stopped walking, almost doubling over at the sudden expelling of air from my lungs. Leaning against the closest light pole, I crossed my arms and stared at the sign. Catch your breath, Alex, and make sense of the question.
Was I doing what I wanted to do? Or what someone else wanted me to do? How could I still walk around the obvious answer on eggshells?
When was the last time I had done something I wanted? I didn’t want to marry Larry. At the same time, I didn’t want to upset my parents. I was an only child, and they didn’t have anyone else. When I looked at them, I could see the happiness that I would find later in life, especially if I followed the choices they made for me. Just because it wasn’t my way, didn’t mean it wasn’t a good way to go.
A bird with white markings landed on the edge of the sign. I scrambled for my small pocket camera which substituted for me when I wasn’t toting my big lens with me.
Zooming in, I focused on the bird’s face and blurred the sign just past it. I was heavily into photography. Between pictures and event planning, I would be happy with either one, but I couldn’t pursue either since they weren’t considered real jobs in my parents’ house.
Why was I doing what they wanted...? I slowly lowered the camera and stared at the bird that was free to do whatever she needed to. When my dad had suffered a heart attack about three years ago, I’d come home from Fayetteville to help them at my mother’s urging.
I’d given up a very successful business to come help them with theirs. I’d given up so much because they had said none of it was real or valuable, and because my mother was a pro at dishing out guilt.
Apparently, nothing I did was worth anything unless it had been dictated by someone else.
The sign mocked me as I pushed away from the pole to continue toward the church. No matter how many lines I stepped on or cracks I walked over, I knew my mom’s back wasn’t in danger.
I turned left and swallowed back a lump of apprehension as it worked its way up my throat. Black shutters stood out against the white clapboard siding. As I got closer to the three-story building, the details came more into focus like the lines of the rocks and the lead in the stained-glass windows. A tower rose behind the church to stand as a queen over the rest of the lot. My stomach twisted and nausea roiled beneath my control.
What was I doing? I paused mid-step and looked behind me, but there was nowhere to run. I couldn’t escape. I was locked in because I had nothing to run toward, just too much to run from.
I’d never get out of the rut I’d found myself in. Marrying Larry was my lot in life. When you lived in a town as small as I did, you didn’t make waves.
And, I had to keep reminding myself – I had nowhere to go.
I walked around the back to the tower entrance, where I had been told to show up to get dressed. I hadn’t planned anything. Even the flowers weren’t my choice. I think Mrs. Burton and Mom had decided on pink calla lilies and white roses. My choice would’ve been irises and daisies, bright purple irises. I certainly wouldn’t have chosen a church we didn’t attend to have the ceremony in.
With the beautiful weather, I would opt for something outside with an arch covered in green vines and white Adirondack chairs.
The door was painted black where I was supposed to enter. It stood open, and as I rounded the corner to go inside, I almost ran into Elizabeth, who stood there waiting. Hair up in a tight bun with little sprigs of flowers in her hair, she worked to be expressive through the heavily applied makeup she normally didn’t wear.
Giving her a questioning look, I climbed the old cobblestone steps.
Frustrated at her lack of communication, she reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer. No one else was around, thank heaven. I breathed in her comforting scent of oranges and cinnamon. If Larry and his mother had their way, I wouldn’t be seeing much of Liz after today.
The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I brushed at my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. I just... It’s been a long day already.” I could get emotional with Liz. She didn't want me to be anything other than what I was.
Her hoarse whisper came out like she’d been holding everything inside her like a vault. “First of all, I cannot believe that your mother even talked me into wearing this dress. It’s atrocious.” She pretended to gag, waving her hand in the air as if shoving the topic aside for the moment. “That doesn’t matter.” She grabbed my upper arms with her strong grip and peered deep into my eyes. “Alex, don’t marry him.”
I exhaled and twisted my lips to the side. There were those dang tears again. “I don’t have a choice. I’m in this too far. Maybe if I tried stopping it two years ago,
when Larry and I started dating... It doesn’t matter. You and I’ve already talked about this. I’m stuck.”
Reality finally swooped in around me as the sounds of bustling and mingling people from inside the chapel reached us through the open windows. A mix of musty church and old woman perfume reached me on the breeze by the open window. I would lose my life as I married Larry, surrounded by decaying people and a rotting building.
Liz pulled back and studied me, tucking her chin. “Are you sure? You only get one life. That’s it. You won’t get another one. I promise, you do not have to do what everyone else wants you to. Live.” She slid her hand down my arm and gripped my hand tight, squeezing my fingers. Her desperation was evident in her grasp.
As appealing as her words were, as much as I felt her plea deep in the center of my soul, I was trapped. “You can’t fix everything. At least not this.” I blinked back the tears that apparently wanted to hang out with me all day. It was okay to cry at weddings, wasn’t it? At least when the bride was sentenced to life.
“Okay, last thing I’ll say out loud. Don’t marry Larry.” She lifted her hands and backed away from me. Jerking her head up the stairs, she whispered, “You better hurry. Your mom is on a warpath. She made me put makeup on my tattoos.” She turned so I could see her bare shoulder where her butterfly usually was. The powdery cover looked fake and I felt bad.
“I’m so sorry. I would never have asked you to do that.” My mom was intent on destroying everything good in my life.
Mom was always on some kind of a tear. She didn’t want anyone else to be happy. If you did exactly what you were asked, she would still find fault with your efforts.
Would me marrying Larry even make her happy?
Chapter 2
TURNING FROM LIZ, I faced the stairs looming before me. Part of me could see Elizabeth as the dragon protecting the stairs, but another part made me wonder if maybe she wasn’t the knight of the story. Or knightress. She didn’t want me to go upstairs because, once I was up there, I would be chained forever to a life of...