Page 3 of Always a Bridesmaid

“Well, it looks like today is your day. Now I’m going to be here for a while. Enjoy your flight,” he said and made a grand gesture toward the counter as if he were being the bigger person by letting her go first.

Jane wanted to stay and argue some more but was too afraid of missing her flight, so she checked in her bag and watched with curiosity as Dickhead Darcy was swarmed by other passengers asking for autographs and selfies.

Henry Norris was usedto making snap decisions in heavy traffic driving at a steady three hundred kilometers per hour. It was his ability to weave in and out without colliding that made him the current World Formula 1 Champion. So the collision with the smart-mouthed, sexy America had been unexpected—and refreshing. It had been a pleasant distraction from the rumors swirling about his team loyalties.

Not only did she call him out on his shit, but before he’d made that blinker comment, she’d found him cheeky—and she hadn’t a clue as to who he was. That hadn’t happened in a long while. Granted he’d been in the States, which was more NASCAR than real racing, and he’d been as incognito as possible, but even when the flashes had started, she’d seemed more concerned with making her flight than fifteen minutes of fame.

Which was the only reason that could explain why he was still thinking about her as he parked out front of his mother’s Georgian-style terraced house in Chelsea, London. With six bedrooms and seven bathrooms, the sprawling residence was the first thing Henry bought after he signed his first big contract with Apex Motorsports, seven years ago.

His mind flashed back to that first day when he moved his family in. The maternal pride on his mum’s face was forever ingrained in his memory.

After his dad abandoned them to chase his dreams of being a Formula 3 pit mechanic, his mum sold the family house and moved them to a two-bedroom apartment, taking on three jobs at times to keep his younger sisters fed and Henry in racing academy. He’d vowed that one day he’d take care of her the way she deserved. He was proud to say that he’d fulfilled that vow—at least fiscally. Emotionally was up for debate.

He would drop everything and come if his mum or sisters called. But that was the problem, he didn’t come home unless they called. Something he was working on. He could blame it on his career, but that would be a lie. He didn’t come home as often as his family would like because it reminded him that this was never his home.

While Henry had been chasing his dreams of fast cars and podiums, his family had been creating lifelong memories. His mum and eldest sister, Sarah, had tried to keep him in the loop, but hearing things secondhand had made him feel like a bit of an outsider.

That was what he’d sacrificed when he’d been selected at age fifteen by Apex to be part of their exclusive racing academy in Monaco. A normal childhood. Most days he backed his decision, but every once in a while, like today when the whole family came together to break bread and tell family tales, he wondered what it would be like to be a part of those memories.

Henry sat in his sports car, stomach bottomed out, staring out the front window. The surrounding London plane trees were heavy with the day’s rain and the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow off the drops hanging from the leaves. The driveway was full, calling out that he was the last to arrive.

With a sigh of exhaustion, he hopped out, his legs still cramped from making the long red-eye flight from Austin earlier that day, where he’d shot an ad for one of his sponsors. He hadn’t even checked into his hotel, coming straight here hoping to have a private moment with his sister Sarah, the blushing bride, before his soon-to-be in-laws arrived.

Grabbing the red Cartier box he’d picked up for Sarah off the passenger seat, he walked to the front door. Only, when he reached it, he hesitated. He’d been an adult by the time he’d been able to afford to buy his mum this house, so he’d never really lived there. In fact, besides the holidays, he rarely stayed there—always opting for a hotel in lieu of the room his mum had set up for him—so he never knew if he should knock or just let himself in.

“Bloody hell, it’s just a family get-together,” he told himself, opening the door and walking in. He was greeted with the welcoming aroma of his mum’s bread pudding, the sounds of warm family chatter, and late-winter memories being made. All of which ignited a hot pang of longing in his chest.

Henry could handle a fifty g-force impact, but the idea of a simple family gathering swapping childhood stories and inside jokes that he wasn’t a part of made his palms sweat. The recent memories, he could be a part of those, he told himself, he just had to attack his personal life like he did the track.

“Is that my Henry, I hear?” his mother, Julia, called out and, god, the sound of her voice shook off some of the nerves.

“Sorry I’m late,” he announced, rounding the circular stairwell and entering the sitting room, where everyone had gathered. And he meant everyone. Between his mum, sisters, and Sarah’s soon-to-be in-laws, every seat in the room was taken.

“Henry,” Sarah squealed and leapt to her feet.

He’d barely got his arms out when his baby sister, Camilla, threw herself into his arms. “You’re finally here!”

Before he knew it, he was surrounded by a gaggle of Norris women fawning over him. He wasn’t all that fond of being fawned over, but growing up the only male in a house of women, he’d become accustomed to it.

“My flight was a bit delayed,” he said, wrapping the three women up in his arms and resting his cheek on his mum’s head. His sisters might be all grown up, but they still barely came to his chin. And his mum? She hadn’t changed one bit. She might have a little silver in her hair and a few more laugh lines, but she had the same youthful spirit he remembered when he’d been a child.

When he released them and stepped back, Sarah said, “Hen, I want you to meet Wayne, my fiancé. Wayne, this is my brother.”

Wayne rushed to stand and thrust out his hand. “Hey, Hank, nice to meet ya. Can I call you Hank or is it too soon for bro-names yet?”

It took everything Henry had not to roll his eyes. Wayne was exactly what he’d imagined. Tall, lanky, overzealous. American.

Henry took his hand and to the rest of the room it looked like a polite greeting between two men, but what Henry gave him was a long, hard, painful handshake. Wayne’s eyes went wide as Henry leaned in for that bro-hug and whispered, “You hurt my sister and whatever you do to her I will do to you ten times worse.”

The groom cracked a nervous smile, but not Henry. His face didn’t move a tick.

“Why don’t you introduce your parents,” Henry said.

“My parents. Right.” Wayne took his hand back and cradled it to his chest. “These are my parents, Debbie and Donnie.”

Donnie was a mirrored image of his son, just a little softer around the middle and grayer. Debbie looked like she was the president of her local quilting bee and canned jam for fun.

“We’re big fans,” Donnie said, giving Henry a warm handshake.

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