Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

she was so shy, but she didn’t need a lecture from me now. “I’ll break the news to him myself, then.”

Silence.

“Harriet? Are you there?”

She chuckled through what could only be described as a phlegmy throat and went into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said at length. “I forgot you can’t see me, and I just nodded at you like a dummy.”

“I do that all the time.”

Silence again. She was probably nodding at that, too.

“Well, you get some rest, and I’ll see you on Monday or Tuesday. No rush.”

We hung up, and I felt a pang of disappointment. It was nothing, of course, compared to how Elton would feel about Harriet’s absence—the concern for her health that would weigh on him the entire weekend. Not to mention the disillusioned hope to dance with her—and if the stars aligned—catch the garter after she caught the bouquet. Oh! It was all sixes and sevens.

The van arrived minutes later, and I greeted Annie at the front door with my best smile. I wouldn’t let my feelings ruin her wedding weekend. She bit her lip with a concerned look and hugged me tentatively.

“What?”

“We… have an extra passenger,” she said.

“Oh.” I shrugged. “That’s cool.”

Was she worried I’d mind or something? This was her wedding, after all, not mine (heaven forbid). Did she think squeezing in and getting close and friendly with her bridesmaids would make me uncomfortable? It sounded like fun.

“Who is it?” I asked, secretly hoping it was Beth.

“You’ll see.”

After tossing my bag in the boot, she opened the sliding door to the van and introduced me to her friends—names my preoccupied brain couldn’t remember if I tried. I smiled and said hello, climbing in and trying to adjust my vision to the darkened interior. A group of friendly faces greeted me—all the ladies a study in retro pin-ups—and then my gaze travelled to the only open seat. Right next to Elton Wardlow. He beamed and waved excitedly.

“Elton. What are you doing here?”

To say it was a shock would be the understatement of the year.

“There wasn’t room in Randall’s car because of all the ice chests,” said Annie, strapping herself into the front passenger seat. “They’re planning a tailgate party tonight.”

What? Elton just met Randall. “Are you a groomsman?”

A soft chuckle escaped Elton’s lips. “No. I’m just not good at driving long distances. I feel safer with a group.”

“Well, at least I’m glad you’re not a bridesmaid. You’d look hideous in the dress.”

It wasn’t meant as a joke, yet the ladies all laughed. Frankly, I was a little put out by his presence. I was looking forward to girl time—whatever that might be. I imagined it would involve lots of gossip and griping about their boyfriends—or other female things one doesn’t discuss in front of men.

If the ladies wanted to chatter about their periods, joke’s on Elton.

The long drive to San Diego was just as promised—a party on wheels. Music blasted, snacks were passed around, and all my new gal pals sang at the top of their lungs. At one point, Annie rolled down her window and did that wavy arm thing in the wind. It was especially iconic with all her tattoos and bracelets.

I was stuck with Mr Chatty in another zip code. For a guy who I thought was the quiet artsy type, he sure talked about himself a lot. His experience on Broadway seemed to be his favourite topic right next to his Tony Award and all the buckets of money he made. What was he trying to prove? I already knew he was good enough for Harriet. He didn’t have to sell me on that. I decided it was as good a time as any to tell him the bad news. I wasn’t sure how he’d take it, so I laid down the facts gently and hoped for the best. She had the flu. But she’d live. I even frowned on his behalf for good measure. Like really frowned big time. Like a mime. He gave me a blank look at first—probably trying to process what I said—and then mirrored my expression, knitting his brows together with the deepest concern.

“That’s terrible.”

I agreed, nodding. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

“Did she go to a doctor?” His forehead creased dramatically.

“I don’t know.”

He covered my hand in his and squeezed. “Please find out. Would you?”

This was a true mark of love if I’d ever seen it. He was so distraught my heart just broke for him. I squeezed back.

“I will.”

He forced a smile, still holding onto my hand for comfort, which was more uncomfortable than awkward. His hands were so hot and clammy from the humid quarters, I had to tap his knuckles with my free hand and slip free. He turned his attention to the window, sighing now and then in quiet thought. Probably working himself up over the whole thing. After several moments, he turned back to face me with a lazy grin.

“What’s the first thing you’ll do when we get to the hotel?” he asked gleefully. “I’m heading straight for the gym. I wasn’t born with these, you know.” He flexed his arm, showing off his biceps. He all but wagged his brows and kissed his guns. What a strange reaction after hearing sad news about his lady love. Perhaps it was his coping mechanism. He was one of those guys who worked out to ease their heartsick souls.

“She’ll be okay,” I said, trying to reassure him.

“Who?”

“Harriet.”

“Oh. Are we still talking about her?”

“Well, she’s sick.”

“Yeah. You said that. And we need to have fun. It’s a wedding. She’d want you to have fun, Emma.”

I frowned. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Thatta girl.”

Poor man. He was so out of sorts he couldn’t bear talking about it. I decided to drop the subject for his sake and listen to him waffle on about all the things he wanted to do while he was in California. One of those things was to learn to surf.

“Do you surf?” he asked.

“I’m English,” I answered laconically. “I don’t