Free Crashing the Congressman’s Wedding (Crimson Romance) by Elley Arden Page A

scratching the back door. At least someone was happy to be home.
    She’d be happy, too … as soon as she
was
home. At her theatre.
    Alice walked into the kitchen to free Mouse from the house. As she walked, she bent her arm behind her, forcing her hand over the scratchy bodice of her dress until she reached the prone-to-stick zipper. She tugged. It barely budged. The dog whined. She switched hands, opening the door with her right while she tugged the zipper with her left. The dog released; the zipper didn’t. She growled. Mouse barked. The crows flew away.
    Alice faced the dingy kitchen and spied Mama’s sewing shears in a rusted coffee can. She stopped fussing with the zipper and snatched up the scissors, cutting the left dress strap in a spot where she was certain repair was possible, and then she cut the right strap just the same. With an arm across the bodice to stay covered and the scissors still in hand, she left the kitchen and passed through the hall, where Charlie showed his face.
    Alice jumped, her heart in her throat, her hand mere seconds from wielding the dull weapon.
    He craned more of his body around the doorjamb of his bedroom, a sneer marring his face. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
    He was dirty. His greasy hair clumped, and a pathetic beard shadowed his face. But he was sober. His flat eyes were clear. The usual bittersweet emotions of seeing him safe after an extended disappearance gripped her heart.
    “You’re home.” She sounded like an idiot, stating the obvious.
    “Yeah. So are you.”
    Not yet. But as soon as she was dressed she’d be headed there.
    “Was that Justin’s car? I thought you were with Kory.”
    Alice expected the questions, tried to prepare for them on the ride home. She hoped to avoid details and keep things vague. Besides, she had a few questions of her own. “Charlie … it’s complicated.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “Margaret had a heart attack.”
    “I know.” Two shadows slashed the already harsh, bony terrain of his face. He bowed his head.
    Charlie wasn’t a bad guy. He made bad decisions. The booze was to blame. When he was sober, he had moments of shame and concern like Alice. But like Mama, he was too weak to get out of a bad situation. Alice was stronger, except when it came to Justin.
    “You slept with Morgan.”
    “I know that, too.” He shrugged. “Justin’s too good for her.”
    Alice’s throat shut, leaving too much blood in her head where it could burn her face. Public opinion was that Justin was too good for most people, especially people like her. She walked passed Charlie and headed for her bedroom.
    “He’s not too good for you.”
    She stopped inches from her door.
    “But that doesn’t mean he’s right for you. Don’t be stupid, Alice.”
    She winced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    Closing her bedroom door behind her, Alice returned to hacking the dress, cutting it at the seams. A tear fell for every cut, not only because she regretted the damage to the fabric, but because despite Charlie’s words, she knew the truth. The beaten dress slipped from her hips and gathered at her bare feet.
    An arm’s length away, an empty bottle of whiskey littered the matted-shag floor. At the beach. In the dark. In that bed. She thought it possible for a man like Justin to love a woman like her. At home. In this family. In this skin. She knew she’d never been so wrong.
    It wasn’t new information. It wouldn’t lead her to despair. She was just so damn tired of the reminder.

CHAPTER SIX
    Justin stomped the gas pedal, fishtailing the Audi around another bend. Dirt gathered in the rearview mirror and clung to the trunk of the speeding car like the devil breathing down his neck. A few more miles and he’d be in the clear, back on paved roads, far enough away from Alice’s side of town to not look guilty.
    But he was guilty.
    The steering wheel vibrated from the blow of his fist. How could things have spiraled so out of