Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen #4)

Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen #4) Page 40

“Thanks.”

I fidgeted some more.

Kellen whispered, “Weddings never start on time.”

Brigit and Mercedes both nodded. So did the big guy in the front row, for that matter.

“I know.” But I didn’t sound convinced even to myself.

We waited. First five minutes, then ten. Soon the conversations among the crowd weren’t politely quiet anymore. People were annoyed at the lateness, and I couldn’t blame them. Other people were suggesting perhaps it was more than lateness.

That maybe Lucas wasn’t coming.

But that was a ridiculous notion. In the eyes of the pack, Lucas and I were already married. There was no reason for him to skip out on our human wedding. Pack law carried more weight than human law, so skipping out on our wedding wouldn’t keep us from being married—it would make him look like a douche bag.

And make me look like an idiot.

No, he cared too much about his image to do something so cruel, I was sure of it. He tended to be reclusive when it came to public appearances, so for him to make such a big deal of the wedding was proof enough it mattered to him.

And I knew I mattered to him. He loved me.

And love is a serious thing.

When you love someone, you wouldn’t leave them. Not for anything.

I felt a pang, thinking of the way Desmond had walked out. How he hadn’t been able to look at me after Lucas and I were officially mated. Was his leaving a sign he’d loved me too much or that he hadn’t loved me enough?

I blinked back tears.

A woman in the front row had pulled out her cell phone and was complaining loudly to the party on the other end that she had never in her life been forced to wait over thirty minutes for a wedding to start, and how having a wedding at ten at night was already a ridiculous request, and blah, blah, blah.

I glared at her, letting her know her conversation could be heard perfectly well.

She hung up.

I was about to ask the guy with the watch for the time again when the sweeping sound of the ballroom doors opening filled the room. My attention jerked from the guests up to the door, expecting my fiancé or someone in his wedding party to walk through at any second. I smiled, ready.

But it wasn’t Lucas who came through the doors.

It was Desmond.

Chapter Forty-Three

The first thing I noticed, aside from the lack of Lucas, was Desmond wasn’t dressed for a wedding. Instead of a tux, he was wearing a leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. He looked great, but that wasn’t the point.

“Desmond?”

He came up the aisle with his head low, not meeting anyone’s gaze, least of all mine. In the open doorway, Kimberly stood bewildered, watching him close the distance between us. He stopped in front of me, not on the platform but on the ground, so I had to look down at him for the first time in our relationship.

“What’s going on?” I didn’t ask why he was here. He was invited. He was the best man. I did wonder, though, why he wasn’t dressed appropriately.

“Can we talk?” He held out a hand, ignoring the glares he was getting from the crowd.

“Is this really the best time?”

“Secret, will you come with me, please?”

“No.” I turned my attention back to the ballroom doors, waiting. If Lucas came in and I was off with Desmond? No. I couldn’t do that. This day was too important, and I wouldn’t be the one to fuck it up.

“I don’t want to do this here.” His hand was still out, and the room was so quiet I could have heard a pin drop.

“You had plenty of chances to talk to me. You left. This. Isn’t. The. Time.” I stepped back, fighting against the wave of tears threatening to be unleashed at any minute.

“Secret…”

My glance cut from the door back to him.

“Will you please come with me?” There was something in his eyes, a pain I’d only seen once or twice before, and always because of something Lucas had done that I didn’t understand. The mate bond. The pack marriage ceremony.

The smile I’d been forcing fell.

“What is it?”

“Come with me.”

I shook my head. “Just tell me.”

He jumped the short step onto the platform, dipping his head so he could whisper without being heard. He couldn’t hide the face he made before I drew close, or the way he sniffed when he got nearer. Apparently being close to me was still physically difficult for him. When I pulled back, Desmond glanced over his shoulder. Three hundred guests stared back with mute anticipation. He sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands, pushing his dark hair off his forehead and taking a big breath before he spoke again.

“Lucas isn’t coming.”

In spite of how quiet he’d been, an audible gasp escaped from the collected masses, my bridesmaids included.

“What are you talking about?” I frowned. “Of course he’s coming.” Even as I said it I was looking at the open ballroom doors where Kimberly was standing peering at me and listening like everyone else. My shoulders drooped, and the bouquet suddenly felt so, so heavy in my hands.

“No.” I shook my head, hoping by denying it over and over I might make it turn out differently. “No, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mercedes put a hand on my shoulder, but I couldn’t look at her. If I saw even an ounce of the pity that showed on Desmond’s face mirrored in hers, then the jig was up. Mercedes was my rock. If she believed what he was saying, I would have to accept it.

I didn’t want to accept it.

My mind started to spin, kicking into high gear. “Is he okay? What—”

“He’s fine.” Desmond let his hand drop. “He’s in Louisiana.”

Murmurs started to spread like wildfire through the room. The sound of three hundred people talking all at once should have been deafening, but all I could hear was the throb of blood behind my ears and the slow, broken sound of my own heart.

“Louisiana?”

He rested one hand on my arm as he spoke, a gesture that would have once made me feel safe and comforted. “Your uncle called this afternoon. Some sort of last-minute emergency. A final negotiation about the borderlands.”

“But…we settled that.”

“Not according to Callum.”

I pushed him back and met his gaze. “You’re telling me Lucas got a call on the day of our wedding, and instead of telling my uncle to wait twenty-four hours, he ran off without so much as a word?”

“I wouldn’t have known except Dominick called me a half hour ago. Apparently he thought Lucas had sent Morgan to tell you.”

I looked at the guests. The ones who weren’t gossiping stared back with silent, apologetic half-smiles. My guess was everyone was waiting for the inevitable meltdown.

Desmond, even, kept one hand on me like he was afraid I might fall apart if he let me go.

“He’s not coming?” I asked again, not yet willing to accept it.

Desmond shook his head. “No.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but quite unbidden, a sob came out. It was a loud, ugly sound, and when I tried to laugh it off, another followed quickly behind it. The bouquet fell from my fingers, and I felt myself go limp. Desmond caught me before I slipped to the floor and held me tightly. The familiar smell of him so close to my face should have comforted me, but instead it reminded me of all I had lost.

I’d chosen Lucas because he needed me. He needed to show the pack how strong and unified we were. But he’d told me the pack would always come first, and tonight he had proven it. I’d done everything I could to demonstrate my loyalty, including driving away the man I loved most in the world, and when push came to shove, Lucas had chosen a land dispute over me.

Sob after sob racked my body, but no tears came, just the loud choking sounds of my lungs struggling for air.

Today was supposed to be about a new beginning. About the life Lucas and I were going to have. Instead I was in the arms of a man who would never again be mine, and the man who claimed to love me was nowhere to be found.

Desmond held me tight while the girls hovered around. He was whispering things that should have been soothing, but every word was a reminder of the two of us. His warmth and scent were traces of the life we’d had before Lucas had screwed everything up with the mate bond and the very public proposal.

He’d made it clear he wouldn’t play second fiddle to Desmond.

He’d won.

And I’d lost it all.

As far as bad-to-worse situations go, it doesn’t get much worse than having the love of your life tell you you’re being stood up on your wedding day.

Or so I thought.

Chapter Forty-Four

They say it’s bad form to kick a man when he’s down.

I would take that saying and change it a little to add it’s the worst form ever to shoot a woman who has been stood up on her wedding day.

My saying wasn’t as well-known, though. That must have been why Morgan didn’t know it was poor form. Or she really didn’t give a shit.

As Kimberly was busy escorting my bewildered guests out of the ballroom, I looked up to see one of the members of Lucas’s pack, a young man named Ewan, trying to guide Morgan from the room.

I hadn’t had time to process what Desmond had said, about Lucas expecting Morgan to be the one who broke the news to me, but seeing her argue with Ewan, the revelation came back to me.

Morgan knew I was going to be stood up, and she hadn’t told me. But why?

“No.” She jerked her arm away from Ewan and shoved him. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.” Her voice sounded high-pitched, edging on crazy. Guess she couldn’t let me be the only drama queen in the room. “He ruined the whole fucking plan.” This time she pointed at Desmond.

I was too muddled and too broken to really pay attention to her, until I heard Mercedes say, “What does she think she’s doing?”

Morgan had clambered up onto one of the chairs, out of Ewan’s reach. My first thought was, Why is she climbing on the furniture? But that was quickly pushed aside to make room for the more pressing, Why is she pointing a gun at me?