Page 15 of Close to My Heart

“I love it.” There was all new furniture with soft cushions facing the fireplace, and there was even a TV hanging under the deck. “You have the perfect bachelor pad now.”

Wes turned on the gas fireplace. “I’m glad I went ahead and built the house and this outdoor area. Why wait when you can enjoy it now?”

What did I have that was mine? I lived on my grandmother’s property that she wanted to take away from me. I hadn’t built anything. Grandma still held the strings of my life.

Wes turned to catch the look on my face. “Uh-uh. None of that. We’re from different families and life circumstances. You can’t compare your life to mine.”

“I can’t?” I asked as he turned on the two heaters closest to the sectional, grabbed a few blankets from a nearby bin, and gestured for me to sit next to him.

I folded my legs underneath me and allowed him to throw a blanket over my lap. “We’re supposed to be decorating the tree.”

“I think we can take a break and watch a holiday movie to get us in the mood. We can eat the pies.”

“You convinced me. Hot chocolate, pie, and an outdoor fireplace.”

He turned on one of our favorite holiday comedies that we knew the lines by heart and settled in to watch it. A few minutes in, I said, “We should hang lights underneath the deck. It would add to the ambiance.”

“Why do I need ambiance? It’s just me here most of the time. Although I supposed my brothers might show up now that I have this.”

“If you ever bring your nieces by or a woman.”

“You’re the only woman I want,” Wes teased, and I shoved at his shoulder because he wasn’t being serious. We continually told our friends and family that we enjoyed each other’s company, but we’d never crossed the line of friendship, and there was no reason to believe that anything had changed.

4

WES

We had one perfect day together. We watched a movie, decorated the tree, and cooked pizza. Later that week, I took Sutton’s advice and ordered more lights to hang under the deck. I wanted to impress her.

But Sutton was too busy going on dates with the prospective husbands. I got frequent updates about how awful these guys were, and I hated every second of it.

I was positive she was going to marry one of them, if only to get her grandmother’s estate. She loved offering tours of the house, and I knew she wanted to expand them, to make it a museum hosting weddings, concerts, and other events.

I suspected her parents wanted the cash value of everything Mrs. Rosesmith owned. They had no interest in the house. The grandmother manipulated each of them in different ways. She kept everyone in her family jumping to do her bidding to get things. At least that was my take on it.

I hadn’t spent much time with her family other than a quick introduction when we went to my prom together as friends. We vowed to go together if no one else asked us. Even though I received a couple of invitations, I said no because I wanted to go with Sutton. Not that I ever told her that.

She was asked by some pretentious rich kid to hers because by then, she went to a private school. I picked her up at her house which could only be described as a mansion, and her parents and grandmother had come outside for photographs.

I felt her mother’s disapproval, and her father’s disinterest. But the grandmother was interesting. She scrutinized me in a way that made me feel like an experiment she wanted to dissect. After that, I stayed far away from her and advised Sutton to do the same.

No matter how close we were, I was never able to convince her to move. I suspected that her family was the house, not the people inside it.

Sutton finally called that night.

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“We talk all the time.” I felt oddly on edge now that she was actively pursuing a husband.

“Maybe over text. Not on the phone.”

“I can’t say I enjoy hearing about your dates.” Although I didn’t not want to hear about them. I wanted to be in the know. It was like I craved the stab of pain that twisted deeper with each date she went on.

“I’m sorry. But I have to talk to someone, and I can’t talk to my mom. She’s convinced these guys are great.”

“What’s the plan? To speed date as many guys as possible to find one that’s not as offensive?” I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my tone.

“I guess. I don’t know. I think Mom was hoping I’d have found someone by now. Grandma wants me to be married before she dies.”

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