Free Fairy Tale Weddings by Debbie Macomber Page A

doesn’t mean anything.”
    â€œNo man is going to carry around a woman’s hair ornament without a reason.”
    â€œOh, Aunt Theresa, I feel like such an idiot. What if he hates me? What if—”
    â€œWill you stop with the what ifs! The soup’s finished. Take it to him and go from there.”
    â€œBut…” She strove to keep the emotion from her voice. But she couldn’t hide her nervousness. If she saw Thorne today, there’d be no fancy gown or dimmed lights to create an illusion of beauty and worldliness. No moonlight and magic to entice him. Her plaid wool skirt, hand-knit sweater and leather pumps would tell him everything.
    Theresa caught her by the shoulders. “Stop being so nervous! It’s not like you.”
    Cindy smiled weakly. She’d go to him because she had to. Her actions were mapped out in her mind. She’d already looked up his address. She’d arrive at his apartment, present him with the soup and tell him how sorry she was that he’d gotten a cold. Then, depending on how he responded, she’d ask for her mother’s comb. But only if he showed signs of being pleased to see her. Somehow she doubted he would.
    Â 
    The television droned in the background, but Thorne couldn’t manage any interest in the silly game shows that ran one after the other. They, however, were only slightly less boring than the soap operas and talk shows on the other channels. He felt hot, then chilled. Sick and uncomfortable. Sleepy from the medication and yet wide-awake. It was only three days until Christmas and he had all the love and goodwill of an ill-tempered, cantankerous grinch.
    The small tree in the corner of his living room was testament to his own folly. He’d enthusiastically put it up the day after meeting Cindy, and now it sat there taunting him, reminding him what a fool he was to believe in romantic dreams. In three days’ time he’d be obligated to show up at his parents’ home and face them—and Sheila. The thought was not pleasant. All he wanted to do was hide in his condo and insist the world leave him alone.
    He sighed and reached for a glass of grapefruit juice and another cold tablet. Discarded cold remedies crowded his glass coffee table. He’d taken one pillow plus the quilt from his bed, trying to get comfortable in the living room.
    The doorbell chimed and he ignored it.
    Seemingly undaunted, the bell rang a second time. “Go away,” he shouted rudely. The last thing he wanted was company.
    The ring was followed by loud knocking.
    Furious, he shoved his quilt aside and stormed to the front door. He jerked it open and glared angrily at the young woman who stood before him. “I said go away!” heshouted, in no mood to be civil. “I don’t want any…” His voice faded to a croak. “Cindy?” He was too shocked to do anything, even breathe. The first thing that came to mind was to haul her into his arms and not let her leave until she told him who she was. But that impulse was immediately followed by an all-consuming anger. He glared at her with contempt.
    Cindy stood there, unable to move or to manage a coherent word. A rush of color heated her face. This was a hundred times worse than she’d imagined. Thorne hated her. Dismayed and disheartened, she handed him the large paper sack. “I…heard you were sick.”
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œChicken soup.”
    Thorne’s eyes lit up with sardonic amusement. She resembled a frightened rabbit standing in front of a hungry wolf. He wondered how anyone could look so innocent and completely guileless when he knew her to be a liar and a cheat. “You might as well come in,” he said gruffly, stepping aside.
    â€œI can only stay a minute,” she said shakily.
    â€œI wouldn’t dream of inviting you to stay longer,” he answered, willfully cruel. He was rewarded when he saw the color