Team Bride by Valerie Comer Page B

didn’t release it.
    With her face puckered up in tears, the flower girl ran back to the petals and knelt, scooping them in the basket. The two junior bridesmaids followed her more sedately, took her by both arms, and hauled her to the front. Crying.
    Everyone in Deb and Don’s family room chuckled. Tears stung Sarah’s eyes in pity for the little girl she’d been.
    Everything flooded back to her. All the humiliation. “That was the worst day of my life.” Her words seemed loud in the basement room. “I hated that Cory for years.”
    “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He even sounded sincere.
    “Sarah, darling, was that really you? How could it be?” Deb patted her shoulder. “We all called him Cory back then. What a small world.”
    “I can’t believe this.” Emotion choked Sarah’s throat. “That was such a horrible day. No wonder I’ve avoided weddings.” She glared at Corbin.
    “I’m sorry, Sarah. I was only five.” He ducked his head.
    The DVD paused.
    “You’ve always been this way, haven’t you? Aw, shucks, look at me. I’m cute.”
    Corbin spread his hands and looked at her with a pleading expression. “I’m sorry. It’s who I am. I can’t undo the past, or I would.”
    Sarah envisioned a lifetime of being the brunt of his jokes. He was still the life of the party, as his mom had said. Sarah had been traumatized enough as a child. She didn’t need to keep going back for more.
    “I’m sorry.” From behind them, Deb sounded uncertain. “We don’t have to keep watching it.”
    Sarah surged to her feet. “It’s okay. It’s your tradition. Your anniversary.”
    “But—”
    “No, really. I’ll be fine.” Once she got over her shock, anyway. She stalked on wooden legs to the nearby powder room and splashed water on her face then stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t that little girl anymore. The little girl who’d been alone among strangers who laughed at her, and when someone finally delivered her back home, she’d discovered...
    Sarah burst into tears as memories poured over her.
    Dad had been gone. Mom had the van packed, waiting, and her brother was having a screaming fit in his car seat. Mom unceremoniously strapped Sarah in beside him, still in her fluffy pink dress, and drove all night. They ended up in a distant town where they knew no one then moved several more times before ending up in Riverbend when Sarah was eight.
    No one had mentioned Dad since Sarah had cried for him that night. Mom told her to shut up, that he was never coming back and good riddance.
    Yes, that horrid day had sucked her into her shell and made it difficult for her to carry on. Was it even why she’d decided to be a teacher? She’d always felt an affinity for little kids who didn’t quite fit in.
    She hadn’t fit in all through school. She still didn’t. Her life was a sham. She’d always be alone, a scared child looking in through the window at someone else’s Norman Rockwell life.
    Corbin wasn’t her ticket out of that situation. He was the reason she was there in the first place.

    * * *

    Corbin pressed his ear against the powder room door. All he could hear was the running faucet, and it had been going for five full minutes.
    “Sarah?” He knocked again. “Are you okay?”
    The door opened so quickly he nearly tumbled into the small space. Sarah stood forlorn, tears streaking her face and both arms wrapped around her middle.
    “Sarah.” He reached for her.
    She pushed his hands away as she shoved past him. “Please take me home, Corbin. Or never mind. I’ll just get a cab.”
    His heart ached. “Let’s go.”
    Hurting eyes amid smudged mascara avoided his. “Thank you.” She marched up the stairs to the main floor.
    Corbin turned to the family room doorway, where all his relatives sat more subdued than he’d ever seen before. “Sorry to break up the evening. I’m taking Sarah home.”
    Aunt Deb surged to her feet. “I’ll come say goodbye and