At seven-ten, right before her father made an announcement to the wedding guests, Sunny quietly got into the bridal limo. She took her bouquet—her beautiful bouquet filled with roses and orchids and calla lilies—made a stop at her parents’ house for her purse and honeymoon luggage and had the driver take her home.

Home. The town house she shared with Glen. Her parents were frantic, her girlfriends were worried, her wedding guests wondered what went wrong. She wasn’t sure why she went home, maybe to see if he’d moved out while she was having a manicure and pedicure. But no—everything was just as she’d left it. And typical of Glen, the bed wasn’t made and there were dirty dishes in the sink.

She sat on the edge of their king-size bed in her wedding gown, her bouquet in her lap and her cell phone in her hand in case he should call and say it was all a bad joke and rather than pulling out of the wedding he was in the hospital or in jail. The only calls she got were from friends and family, all worried about her. She fended off most of them without saying where she was, others were forced to leave messages. For some reason she couldn’t explain to this day, she didn’t cry. She let herself fall back on the bed, stared at the ceiling and asked herself over and over what she didn’t know about this man she had been willing to commit a lifetime to. She was vaguely aware of that special midnight hour passing. The new year didn’t come in with a kiss, but with a scandalous breakup.

Sunny hadn’t had a plan when she went home, but when she heard a key in the lock she realized that because she’d taken the bridal limo and left her car at her parents’, Glen didn’t know she was there. She sat up.

He walked through the bedroom door, grabbing his wallet, keys and change out of his pockets to drop onto the dresser when he saw her. Everything scattered as he made a sound of surprise and he automatically reached for his ankle where he always kept a small, back-up gun. Breathing hard, he left it there and straightened. Cops, she thought. They like always having something, in case they happen to run into someone they put away…or a pissed-off bride.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Shoot me. It might be easier.”

“Sunny,” he said, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she said. She looked down at the bouquet she still held. Why had she clung to that? Because it was sentimental or because it cost 175 dollars and she couldn’t return it? “You can’t have done this to me,” she said almost weakly. “You can’t have. You must have a brain tumor or something.”

He walked into the room. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I kept thinking that by the time we got to the actual date, the wedding date, I’d be ready. I really thought that.”

“Ready for what?” she asked, nonplussed.

“Ready for that life, that commitment forever, that next stage, the house, the children, the fidelity, the—”

She shook her head, frowning in confusion. “Wait a minute, we haven’t found a house we like and can afford, we agreed we’re not ready for children yet and I thought we already had commitment…” His chin dropped. “Fidelity?” she asked in a whisper.

He lifted his eyes and locked with hers. “See, I haven’t really done anything wrong, not really. I kept thinking, I’m not married yet! And I thought by the time—”

“Did you sleep with other women?” she asked, rising to her feet.

“No! No! I swear!”

She didn’t believe him for a second! “Then what did you do?”

“Nothing much. I partied a little. Had drinks, you know. Danced. Just went out and sometimes I met girls, but it didn’t get serious or anything.”

“But it did get to meeting, dancing, buying drinks. Talking on the phone? Texting little messages? Maybe having dinner?”

“Maybe some of that. A couple of times.”

“Maybe kissing?”

“Only, maybe, twice. At the most, twice.”

“My God, have I been brain damaged? To not know?”

“When were we together?” he asked. “We had different nights off, we were like roommates!”

“You could have fixed that easy! You could have changed your nights off! I couldn’t! People don’t get married or have fiftieth anniversary parties on Tuesday nights!”

“And they also don’t go out for fun on Tuesday nights! I guess I’m just a bad boy, but I enjoy a ball game or a run on a bar or club on a weekend when people are out! And you were never available on a weekend! We talked about it, we fought about it! You said it would never change, not while you took pictures.”

“This isn’t happening,” she said. “You stood up two hundred wedding guests and a trip to Aruba because I work weekends?”

“Not exactly, but… Well… Look,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m twenty-six. I thought you were probably the best thing for me, the best woman I could ever hook up with for the long haul except for one thing—I’m not ready to stop having fun! And you are—you’re all business. Even that wedding—Jesus, it was like a runaway train! Planning that astronomical wedding was like a second job for you and I never wanted anything that big, that out of control! Sunny, you’re way too young to be so old.”

That was one way to deliver what she could only describe as a punch to the gut. Of all the things she thought she knew about him, she hadn’t given enough credence to the fact that even at twenty-six, he was younger than she. More immature. He wanted to have fun. “And you couldn’t tell me this last month? Or last week? Or yesterday?” She stared at him, waiting.

“Like I said, I thought I’d work it out in my head, be ready in time.”

Talk about shock and awe. “You’re an infant. How did I not realize what a liability that could be?”

“Excuse me, but I lay my life on the line every day! I go to work in a bulletproof vest! And you’re calling me an infant?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Glen. You’re an infant with a dick. With a little, tiny brain in it.” She took a breath. “Pack a bag. Take some things and see if you can find a friend who will take you in for a few days. I’ll move home to my mom and dad’s as soon as I can. I hope you can make the rent alone. If I recall, I was making more money with my boring old weekend job than you were with your bulletproof vest.”

Sunny sat back on the bed, then she lay down. Still gowned in a very big wedding dress, holding her valuable bouquet at her waist, Sunny closed her eyes. She heard Glen rustling around, finding clothes, his shaving kit, the essentials. Her mind was completely occupied with thoughts like, will the airline refund the money for the first-class tickets because the groom didn’t show? How much non-refundable money had her parents wasted on a wedding that never happened? Would the homeless of L.A. be eating thousands of dollars worth of exquisite food discarded by the caterer? And since her name was also on the lease to this townhouse, would fun-man Glen stiff her there, too? Hurt her credit rating and her business?

“Sunny?” Glen said to her. He was standing over her. “Wake up. You look so… I don’t know… Funereal or something. Like a dead body, all laid out.” He winced. “In a wedding dress…”

She opened her eyes, then narrowed them at him. “Go. Away.”

SUNNY GAVE HER HEAD a little shake to clear her mind and looked up to see Drew standing in front of her. He held a glass of wine toward her. “I salted the steps, got you a wine and me a beer. Now,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “About this photography of yours…”

“It happened a year ago,” she said.

“Huh? The picture taking happened a year ago?” he asked.

“The wedding that never was. Big wedding—big party. We’d been together three years, engaged and living together for one, and all of a sudden he didn’t show. I was all dressed up in a Vera Wang, two hundred guests were waiting, little sausages simmering and stuffed mushrooms warming, champagne corks popping…and no groom.”

Total shock was etched into his features. “Get out!” he said in a shocked breath.

“God’s truth. His best man told me he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready.”

Suddenly Drew laughed, but not unkindly, not of humor but disbelief. He ran his hand through his hair. “Did he ever say why?”

She had never told anyone what he’d said, it was too embarrassing. But for some reason she couldn’t explain, she spit it right out to Drew. “Yeah. He wasn’t done having fun.”

Silence reigned for a moment. “You’re not serious,” Drew finally said.

“Deadly. It was all so stunning, there was even a small newspaper article about it.”

“And this happened when?” he asked.

“One year ago. Today.”

Drew sat back in his chair. “Whoa,” was all he could say. “Well, no wonder you’re in a mood. Fun?” he asked. “He wasn’t done having fun?”

“Fun,” she affirmed. “That’s the best explanation he could come up with. He liked to party, go to clubs, flirt, dance, whatever… He’s a Saturday-night kind of guy and just wasn’t ready to stop doing that and guess what? Photographers work weekends—weddings, baptisms, et cetera. Apparently I’m a real drag.”

Drew rubbed the back of his neck. “I must be really backward then. I always thought having the right person there for you, listening to your voice mails and texting you to pick up her dry cleaning or saying she’d pick up yours, someone who argued with you over what sushi to bring home or what went on the pizza, someone who would come to bed na**d on a regular basis—I always thought those things were fun. Sexy and fun.”

She grinned at him. “You find dry cleaning sexy?”

“I do,” he said. “I really do.” And then they both laughed.

CHAPTER FOUR

SUNNY SAT FORWARD, elbows on her knees, a smile on her face and said, “I can’t wait to hear more about this—the things you find sexy. I mean pizza toppings and dry cleaning? Do go on.”

He took a sip of his beer. “There is a long list, Miss Sunshine, but let’s be clear—I am a boy. Naked tops the list.”

“Yes, there are some things all you boys seem to have in common. But if I’ve learned anything it’s that showing up na**d regularly apparently isn’t quite enough.”

“Pah—for men with no imagination maybe. Or men who don’t have to push a month’s worth of work into a day.”

“Well, then…?” she asked. “What?”

“I like working out a budget you’ll never stick to. There’s something about planning that together, it’s cool. Not the checkbook, that’s not a two-person job—it’s dicey. No two people add and subtract the same, did you know that? And the chore list, that turns me on like you wouldn’t believe. Picking movies—there’s a real skill to that. If you can find a girl who likes action then you can negotiate three action movies to every chick flick, and you can eventually work up to trading chick flicks for back rubs.” He leaned close to whisper. “I don’t want this to get out, but I actually like some of the chick flicks. I’m picky, but I do like some.”

“Shopping?” she asked.

“I have to draw the line there,” he said firmly. “That just doesn’t do it for me. If I need clothes or shoes I take care of it as fast as I can. I don’t like to screw around with that. It’s boring and I have no skills. But I get that you have to look at least half decent to get a girl to like you.” He smiled. “A pretty girl like you,” he added.

“Then how do you manage that? Because tonight, you weren’t even aware there was a party and you don’t look that terrible.”

“Why, thank you,” he said, straightening proudly. “I either ask my oldest sister, Erin, to dress me—the one who made the lean-to into a showplace—or failing that I just look for a g*y guy working in clothing.”

She burst out laughing, not realizing that Nate, Annie, Jack and a few others turned to look. “That’s awful, shame on you!”

“Gimme a break—I have g*y friends. You can say anything you want about them but the common denominator is—they have fashion sense. At least the guys I know do.”

“Then why not ask a g*y friend to go shopping with you?”

“I don’t want to mislead anyone,” he said with a shrug.

“Sure you’re not just a little self-conscious about your…um…somewhat flexible status?”

He leaned so close she could inhale the Michelob on his breath. His eyes locked on hers. “Not flexible about that. Ab. So. Lutely. Not.” Then he smiled. “I only swing one way.”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed loudly. Happily.

“You gotta stop that, my sunshine. You’re supposed to be miserable. You were left at the altar by a juvenile idiot a year ago tonight. We’re grieving here.”

“I know, I know,” she said, fanning her face. “I’m going to get back into depression mode in a sec. Right now, tell me another thing you find impossibly sexy, and keep in mind we’ve already covered that na**d thing.”

“Okay,” he said. He rolled his eyes skyward, looking for the answer. “Ah!” he said. “Her lingerie in the bathroom! It’s impossible. Hanging everywhere. A guy can’t even pee much less brush his teeth or get a shower. I hate that!” And there was that wicked grin again. “Very sexy.”