Page 43 of When You Are Mine

“Good! You’ll make it in time for the bachelor party.”

Whoopee, Walsh thought, hanging up the phone with more force than necessary. Knowing Brad, there’d be floor to ceiling strippers and a plethora of porn. Not Walsh’s speed.

Trisha, Walsh’s new assistant, poked her head around the corner into his office.

“Want me to get you on an earlier flight since the Merrist meeting was canceled?”

“No, that’s okay.” Walsh shifted his eyes from Trisha to the projections displayed on his laptop. “I could use the extra time to catch up on a few things.”

“You could make that rehearsal dinner, though, if you catch the next flight out. There’s one leaving for Raleigh-Durham in a couple of hours.”

He paused in his typing long enough to flick an annoyed glance her way.

“No, really. Just leave it.”

He waved her back to her desk, making sure not to appreciate her departure too much. She really was a feast for the senses. Long legs in her short skirts, heart-shaped ass, breasts full and firm, mocha skin, closely cropped burnished hair. Even aside from his no fraternization policy, he wasn’t interested. He was in a funk, a malaise fast approaching depression. Approaching about as fast as tomorrow’s wedding.

“Damn.” He closed his eyes, pressing the bridge of his nose and running a hand across the back of his neck. “Kerris, why are you doing this?”

The question had ricocheted in his head a million times since his mother’s birthday party. He hadn’t even tried to corner Kerris, to get her alone and ask what the hell she thought was doing. Even after what had happened in the gazebo, the intimacy they had shared and the tears they had shed over her past, he’d known they still had a long way to go before she would admit what was apparent to him. But this?

He rushed into that ballroom determined to lay all his cards on the table with Cam, even if it destroyed their friendship. He was that certain Kerris was supposed to be his. The shock of Cam’s announcement was like a blow to his solar plexus, robbing him of air for precious seconds. And then anger, violent emotion, had flooded in. He congratulated Cam, didn’t speak a word to Kerris, and took the stairs up to his room two at a time. Jo followed only minutes later to check on him.

“So this is where you disappeared to,” Jo said from the door she’d just opened without invitation. “You’re missing the celebration.”

“Yeah?” He loaded the monosyllable with enough hostility to put her off, only Jo hadn’t ever acknowledged his Keep Off the Grass signs.

“Yeah, Cam was asking where you were.” The challenge in Jo’s eyes reminded Walsh so much of his mother, he almost got up and docilely followed her back downstairs.

“Not feeling well. I already congratulated Cam. Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“But, Walsh—”

“Fuck, Jo! Will you get the hell out? Just go. I can’t…I just can’t do this right now.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the threading of the duvet covering his bed. He knew Jo was standing there, probably shocked and trying to figure out what was wrong with him. When he finally glanced up, she looked completely unfazed. He was afraid she already knew what was wrong and had for some time.

That moment came back to him as he deboarded his flight later that evening. He glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock. He had missed the rehearsal dinner, but would still make the bachelor party. At least he wouldn’t have to see Kerris.

The disappointment, hurt, and frustration all rested on a bed of anger. Anger at Kerris for not facing what he absolutely knew was between them. Anger at Cam for settling for what Kerris offered instead of the passionate marriage he deserved. Anger at himself, most of all, for letting it all happen. For doing what he’d always done—protected Cam from things that were unpleasant. Jo did it. His mother did it. They all did it; shielded him from harsh realities to somehow make up for the crap he’d suffered during his childhood. It had never been good, but this time it might destroy him and Cam both.

And Kerris.

He dropped his bags in the foyer, overpowered by the almost obnoxious smell of flowers. He walked into the front room and was nearly assaulted by white calla lilies. Lilies?

Which flower is your favorite?

The orchid.

He suspected this wedding was his mother and Jo’s creation. He had experienced firsthand their tendency to take over. If it were up to them, he’d be married with a couple of kids by now. Maybe “producing” Cam’s wedding would assuage them for a little while.

The grim reality of tomorrow’s farce pressed in on him. How the hell was he going to make it through tomorrow’s ceremony?

Not a rhetorical question, Bennett. You can’t make a fool of yourself. Don’t look at her coming down the aisle. Make sure you keep your trap shut when the preacher asks if anyone has a reason these two shouldn’t be wed.

Um, yeah, it should be me standing beside her, Rev.

The simpler, truer, impossible answer was that she was…his. He knew it every time he looked at her and she looked back at him. It had taken him all summer to figure it out, and maybe now she never would.

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