My Lucky Groom

give it a trial run? You know, for a couple of weeks. If it turns out you’re miserable there, you can come back here.”
    “Are you serious? You’d hold a spot open for me?”
    “What are friends for?
    “Oh, Richard!” she said springing into his arms. “You’re the best!”
    He held her to him and patted her back while Elisa and Ricky sent curious gazes in their direction. “Yeah, you too.”
    “Are you two getting married?” Elisa asked.
    Ventura felt her cheeks blaze as she broke from Richard’s embrace.
    “That was just in friendship,” she said, blinking at the kids.
    Richard straightened his bow tie. “Absolutely.”
    Ricky and Elisa exchanged glances.
    Ventura stared at Richard, and he stared back.
    “I’m not worried if you’re not,” he said quickly.

Chapter Eleven

    It was late at night when Ventura rapped at Nanette’s bedroom door.
    “It’s open! Come in!”
    Nanette’s suitcase lay open on the bed. She was going away on some kind of romantic adventure with a man who worked for the government.
    “Are you sure you’ll be safe traveling with Kevin?” Ventura asked. “You really don’t know that much about him.”
    “That’s because he can’t say.”
    “You don’t think it’s a little odd that he always wears those dark glasses?”
    “Trust me on this,” she said with a wink. “He doesn’t always wear them.”
    “Well, I’m glad you’re having fun,” Ventura said. “Wherever you’re going.”
    “To a resort, if you must know. If I told you which one, you’d be embarrassed.”
    “Oh,” Ventura said with a blush. “Well, I brought you something for your trip. Something for good luck.”
    Nanette stared down at the package in Ventura’s hand. “Oh, how sweet! You didn’t have to.”
    “I know,” Ventura said. “But you’ve been so good to me and Mary both. It’s just a little something.”
    Nanette grinned and eagerly tore into the wrapping. “Chocolate fortune cookies.” She giggled with delight. “Where on earth did you get these?”
    “I have my sources.”
    “Thank you, dear.” Nanette gave her a warm hug. “So, tell me, how are things going with Charles?”
    “We broke up.”
    Nanette looked at her with surprise. “I don’t understand. I thought everything was going so well.”
    Ventura sat on Nanette’s bed with a sigh.
    Nanette considered her a moment. “This is about that editor, isn’t it? Richard Blake.”
    “Oh, Nanette, I’m not even sure if he feels the same.”
    “Have you thought about talking to him? Telling him the truth?”
    “I couldn’t! Not after all he’s done for me. He’s been so kind, given me so many chances. He’s even gone so far as to support my writing. I don’t think I told you, he sent a manuscript of mine to a couple of his agent friends in New York.”
    Nanette eyed her doubtfully. “You mean to say there’s never been any chemistry between you?”
    Ventura felt her face burn hot but held her tongue.
    “I see. Well, you know what they say…” She paused a moment to toss some skimpy lingerie in her bag. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” She met Ventura’s eyes. “How do you know he’s not thinking the same thing? She’s such a nice young woman. She’s done so much for my family. How could I possibly take advantage of her? ”
    “But he wouldn’t be taking advantage!” Ventura blurted out. “I’d want him to.”
    “Ah-ha!
    Ventura hung her head. “What am I going to do?”
    “Tell him when the moment is right.”
    “But what about my new job? And Mary? Her relationship with Jason? I wouldn’t want to impact that in a bad way if things were to sour between Richard and me. Maybe I should forget all about him.” She sighed heavily. “I can’t imagine how this will work out.”
    Nanette sat on the bed beside her. “Things have a way of resolving themselves,” she said kindly. “You’ll see. You go on with your life. Follow your heart. Do what you’re meant to do. Your destiny will catch up with you.”

    Ventura followed Mary with trepidation through the bustling newsroom where noise assaulted her senses. Fingers furiously tapped at keyboards, phones rang nonstop, and editors barked out orders. Ventura clutched Mary’s arm as they passed by rows of disheveled reporters sitting with mugs of coffee at their computers.
    Mary angled her chin toward Ventura. “Stop acting like you’re in a slasher film,” she hissed. “This is your dream job, remember?”
    She