A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(33)
Besides, Hannah looked so much like her brother.
Allie’s arm brushed against the dress as she adjusted her sweater, and the frothy number swayed on its padded hanger. The swish of the fabric only seemed to whisper more condemnation.
With a groan, she shut the closet door harder than necessary. She should just get rid of the thing, but it wouldn’t be worth the wrath of her mother, grandmother, and aunt. Yet even though they all threatened her within an inch of her life if she sold the dress or threw it away, not one of them would store it at her own house. “It belongs to you now, and will until you wear it. Then you pass it down to your daughter.”
Right. A daughter? Not at this rate.
And zero hope of getting over what she did to Marcus. Even if it was for his own good.
A knock sounded on her apartment door, and Allie dashed to get it, checking her watch. She needed to leave in less than ten minutes if she didn’t want to be late, and with a long-time friendship already riding on this lunch, she really shouldn’t push it by appearing like she didn’t care. She pulled the door open.
Hannah, looking at once like her best friend and a total stranger in a pink cashmere sweater and skinny jeans tucked into boots. She looked great—like she hadn’t lost her best friend or spent the past several months comforting a broken-hearted brother at all.
Maybe Allie hadn’t mattered all that much to begin with.
“I was just heading out to meet you.” Allie cautiously opened the door wider to allow her friend inside, bracing herself for . . . something. And not just the chill of the January air that rushed to meet her despite the heated hallway. “Did I mess up the time?”
She took a step backward, and the heel of her boot caught on the striped rug under her feet. Maybe Hannah had changed her mind and decided to tell her off privately instead. Maybe she’d realized a polite lunch in public was way more considerate than Allie deserved.
“I couldn’t wait another minute to tell you.” Hannah shoved her left ring finger in Allie’s face and let out an excited squeal. “I’m engaged!” She jumped up and down, her curly dark hair bouncing against her shoulders.
Engaged.
The word twisted in Allie’s throat and refused to rise to her lips. “That’s . . . that’s . . .”
What was it? Surprising? Not really. Hannah and Zach had been dating for about six months, but she supposed not everyone had to be together for several years before tying the knot. A long courtship hadn’t exactly worked out for her and Marcus . . .
“I know, right?” Hannah pushed past Allie and sank down onto the arm of the overstuffed turquoise chair, exactly as she’d done a million times over the years. As if it were that easy to pick up. Like the past few months hadn’t changed everything.
Maybe they hadn’t.
Hannah held up her hand again, this time keeping it steady enough for Allie to focus on the significant princess-cut carat adorning her finger. “Zach is perfect. Well, no, he’s not. He’s pretty much a slob, and we don’t like any of the same movies.” She snorted a laugh. “But we’re perfect together.”
Allie slowly sank to the edge of the couch near Hannah. “Right. I understand.” Sort of. She’d never felt like anything between Marcus and herself had been perfect. He was perfect, to be sure. As much as any six foot, dark haired, chocolate-eyed, car loving athletic guy could be. The problem had been Allie. She’d been the one to fall short, thanks to her family—and the curse that ran though her blood.
Once upon a time, when gazing into Marcus’s eyes and feeling the heady weight of that diamond on her finger, she’d thought she could break the family scourge. Break the effect of the words her mom had whispered when Stepdad #2 had roared off on his Harley, and when Stepdad #4 had slammed the door on his way to the bus stop, and when unofficial Stepdad #5 had plucked his clothes from the front yard and shoved them into a trash bag before calling a taxi.
“Remember, Allie, this is what Andrews women do. We break hearts before we get ours broken.”
She could still remember the firm set of her mother’s lips, the expressionless twist of her eyebrows, the wall of steel in her eyes. It was the same look Grandma had when anyone mentioned her first or second husband, and the same look Aunt Shelly got when she announced she was meeting another man from her online dating profile.
If a leopard couldn’t change its spots and a zebra couldn’t change its stripes, who was Allie to change her blood?
Since Marcus was way too gentlemanly to break a promise or dodge a bullet, she’d been the one forced to remove him from the line of sight.
A point no one seemed to understand.
Hannah grinned. “Of course you get it. I knew you would, since you’ve been engaged . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she averted her gaze to the carpet. “I didn’t mean to bring that up. Honest.”
Her eyes radiated sincere regret, and Allie relaxed slightly. No firing squads. Just good ol’ Hannah. “I was thinking George.”
Hannah gave her a sharp glance, her brown eyes, as vivid as Marcus’s, sparkling suspiciously beneath her furrowed brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Maybe Bob.”
“I don’t get it.” Her voice hitched. “Are these guys you’ve dated since—”
“Calm down.” Allie winked. “I’m just trying to name that elephant in the corner. He’s been sitting there since you walked in, so I thought we ought to give him a collar and a home.”