Almost A Bride - Rula Sinara Mills & Boon Heartwarming

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her long, wavy hair. Her sun-kissed highlights were long gone and her face looked pale against the deeper brown. Unfortunately, her nose was as red and miserable as her eyes. She pinched her cheeks, then hurried to the sofa, where she’d thrown her purse last night. Years of avoiding a face-to-face with Gray, and now he was going to see her like this? She looked nothing like a successful graduate who’d just been offered her dream job with a top New York advertising firm. That was the impression she’d hoped to give. And why did that bother her so much?

      She hated that one glimpse of Grayson on the beach had her worried about appearances and impressions...so much like her father. She just wanted people to see that she was okay and doing just fine for herself without Gray in her life. She didn’t want her father seeing her as weak and doubting that she could make it on her own without his money or connections. She wanted everyone who had been a part of her life to feel at least a little proud of her for making it on her own...even Gray. But she knew Gray hated her and she couldn’t blame him after what she’d done, yet a part of her yearned for him to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the pain of losing Nana became bearable. If it ever would.

      She flipped the pillows on the sofa. Her keys had to be here somewhere. She distinctly remembered tossing them onto the purse. She shoved her hand between the sofa cushions. Yes. Her fingertips brushed against the pewter turtle that held the bundle of keys together. The doorbell rang. No.

      She wasn’t expecting anyone. The image of Gray standing in the doorway flashed in her mind. She knew it was him. She just did. Her instincts screamed it. Her stomach twisted and her pulse skittered at the base of her throat. This would be so like him...wanting to give her his condolences in private, away from curious friends and family. Public displays of affection had always made him uncomfortable. It didn’t matter that this gathering was about loss. The fact that everyone in town knew their history practically guaranteed that behind all the sympathy would be curious eyes and gossip.

      Gray was right. Getting this first encounter over with in private was the smart thing to do.

      She shoved the keys in her pocket and took a deep breath as she went for the door and opened it.

      “Mandi.”

      “Dad?”

      Her gut sank a few inches, but she wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment. Her father opened his arms and she complied. His embrace was anything but comforting. Maybe it was all in her head, but everything between them...even seemingly kind gestures on his part...always felt tainted with expectation or ulterior motive. Nonetheless, he was her father. Her only remaining family. That had to count for something. Mandi gave him a peck on the cheek and stepped back. He strode past her and stood in the center of the main room, his gaze darting around the place with purposeful efficiency.

      “I thought we should drive over to the funeral together. Show how the Rivers are strong and will get through this together, as a family,” he said.

      And there it was. Show. Keep up appearances. Mandi folded her arms around her waist.

      “I’m so sorry about Nana, Dad. I know losing your mom must be hard on you.”

      “Yes. Thank you. Same to you, sweetheart. I know you were close. And I realize that you were so young when your mother left, you probably don’t remember what it was like having her around. It’s different when you’ve been around someone day in and day out your entire life, like Nana, and then, suddenly, they’re gone. I know she was old, but still. It hurts.”

      Leave it to her dad to put the color back in her face. It irked her to no end that he’d assume that she had no memories of her mother or that her leaving so abruptly hadn’t left a scar. How many times had she, as a little girl, wondered if she’d caused her mother to leave, even if Nana had assured her that wasn’t the case? Besides, Nana had been like both a mother and grandmother to her. More of a parent than John Rivers had been, for sure. He had always put his work first, whether it was when he was town mayor or, now, as a real estate investor. For him, life was about money and success. All he had ever cared about were Mandi’s grades and future career.

      Sure, he had given her a roof and had read her bedtime stories when she was younger, but when it really came to parenting, it was Nana who had stepped in and picked up the pieces after her mother left. Nana had been the one to offer emotional support through all her growing pains and the pitfalls of dating. She was the one who instilled confidence in Mandi, assuring her she was pretty during the awkward teen years, taking her clothes shopping or even just holding and comforting her when she had missed her mom and felt confused. Her dad had always been too preoccupied with work to realize that parenting involved so much more than providing food and shelter.

       It’s different when you’ve been around someone day in and day out your entire life and then, suddenly, they’re gone.

      Was he also trying to point out that she hadn’t been around Nana on a daily basis the past few years? As if that would make her miss her grandmother any less? She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out. It wasn’t the time, or place. Nana wouldn’t want them fighting. She cleared her throat and fidgeted with her keys.

      “I miss her, too. I, um, was planning to drive myself to the funeral home. In fact, I was just about to leave. We can park near each other and walk into the service together. I’d really like to have my car there, so that I can go for a drive afterward.”

      What she really meant was that she needed a getaway car if things got overwhelming. Nana used to lovingly call her “my little hermit crab” because, for all her talk about making it big in the world, Mandi always needed downtime. She had the soul of a hermit, Nana would say. Sometimes she’d find her solace by reading upstairs in her nook and sometimes it was a sandy spot, hidden by tall grasses, overlooking the sound side of Turtleback. Her mind flipped back to the lighthouse and the time Gray whisked her up the spiral stairs to the top and they sat for hours watching the sunset. He had been quiet enough for her to find peace, yet comforting, with his hand wrapped around hers and his special scent enveloping her. It had been the day after she had finished her online degree and her dad had not shown up to the “graduation” dinner Nana had made for her and a few friends. His only reaction to Mandi’s telling him she’d finished her bachelor’s was, “Good for you. Now figure out what to do with it.” He had always dismissed her so easily, especially when she accomplished something that had not stemmed from his advice.

      “Nonsense,” he said, running his hand along an old, chipped bowl that was the color of the wet sand along the surf.

      The piece of pottery had been passed down for generations. It had belonged to Nana’s great-grandmother, who in turn had claimed it had made its way to her from a line of ancestors in the Algonquin tribe. Something about the way John Rivers touched it sent a streak of cold down Mandi’s neck...as if Nana herself was protesting. No doubt that bowl was worth a lot, assuming it really was antique, but it needed to continue its journey through generations of family. Mandi’s father wouldn’t see the value in that. He glanced over at Mandi. He did look tired. She knew he loved them both. It was just that his love seemed so misguided at times.

      “I really want you to come with me, Mandi. You drove all yesterday. Besides, didn’t you used to hound me about the environment? Car fumes and fuel, etcetera...? Come on. Grab your purse or we’ll be late.”

      He put his hand on her shoulder to ease her toward the door. She was too tired to fight him on this, as much as she wanted to.

      “Fine. After you.”

      She followed him out, pausing only to close up behind her. A breeze tousled her hair over her eyes as she waited for him to unlock the car doors with his fob. She pushed the hair out of her face and stilled. There was Gray on his motorcycle, helmet turned so that he was undoubtedly staring right at her from the crossroad near the house. He turned away, revved his engine and disappeared down the road.

      “Are you getting in?” her father asked, glancing back toward the road. He made no effort to mask his irritation. Mandi tipped her chin up and gave a quick shrug, as if the sight of Gray or the sound of his Triumph engine failed to stir anything

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