Page 39 of 4 Weddings and a Feud

Taking care with her crooked finger, he took her hand and set off slowly across the damp sand. He kept to the ocean side where the icy waves lapped at his heels.

They walked for a minute in silence, Mary’s hand warm in his. She tilted her face to the hazy sky, then looked down to the shells left behind by the receding waves.

At last, she sighed. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Truly, it was, to see her cheeks pinked by the ocean breeze and to feel her soft hand in his.

“Aren’t you worried about leaving your business?”

“I’ll check in with my team a couple of times a day. And with my mother. I don’t want you to worry about the Richardson wedding while we’re here. I’ve got Joey monitoring it this week.”

She tipped her head and squinted at him. “Why are you personally involved in this wedding? You don’t do that for every event at your hotel, do you?”

He could’ve made up a bullshit reason. He could have told her half the truth. But the words poured out of him. “The Paradise is for sale. And I want it. As you know, Rochelle’s father, Ray, is the president of the gaming board. If things go poorly, he can turn the board against me to reject the purchase.”

She stared at him for a minute, processing what he’d said and probably what he hadn’t. “Good. I mean, not good that your big deal is at stake. But I was afraid you didn’t trust me.”

“Not trust you? Mary, I’d trust you with my life.”

“But you didn’t trust me the night of prom,” she said.

He sighed. “I was a proud, foolish kid. I didn’t want anyone to know about our struggles. But I didn’t know the extent of them. That there’d be no way to hide when people found out my dad had stolen their life’s savings.”

She pulled him to a stop and bent to pick up a sun-bleached sand dollar. “Is that why the Paradise deal is so important? Other hotels have come up for sale, most of them in better condition than the Paradise. You could be instantly profitable with one of them.”

“It might not be the most rational decision I’ve ever made.”

“A low bar,” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. “Are you seriously insulting me while I’m baring my soul to you?”

“Your soul?” Her eyebrows lifted.

“Okay, fine. I sold that a long time ago. I’m only revealing my personal business. But that’s what it is. Personal. I lost the Paradise once, and every day it mocked me from the center of the Strip as I drove by it in my clunker. When I barely had two dollars to rub together, the Rissos made money off my father’s shame and my desperation. Now I have a chance to take it back. I’ll tear down that old piece of shit and build something shiny and new in its place. And I’ll scrawl my name across it in twenty-foot-high letters. I’ll show everyone who spat on the Villa name that I’ve risen from the ashes my father made of it.”

“You could call it the Phoenix.”

“Ah, but then people might forget whose building it is. It’ll be La Villa Prime.”

She snorted. “That sounds like one of the toy robots my brothers used to play with.”

“Maybe it’s childish of me.”

“Maybe it is. But that doesn’t make it wrong.” Solemnly, she handed him the sand dollar. “You have big dreams. Don’t let anyone take them away.”

Her eyes were so kind he couldn’t bear to look into them. He flung his arms around her and buried his face in her warm shoulder. The edge of the sea creature’s skeleton dug into his palm, and he loosened his grip on the delicate shell so as not to crack it. “Mary, I?—”

But he stopped himself. He couldn’t tell her about the bigger dream he had, that one day he’d be worthy of her. After he’d bought the Paradise and turned her into a world-class resort. After he’d made his first billion. After he’d somehow redeemed himself for the pain he’d caused her so many years ago.

Slowly, her hands came up to rub circles on his back. “Well, I guess you needed to unburden yourself to someone. You know, the church offers that service for free every Saturday. Or a high roller like you could afford a therapist.”

He hugged her tighter. “This is better than therapy. And much better than confession with judgy Father Benedict.” Though the thought of Father Benedict’s hairy knuckles as he set the communion wafer in Alex’s mouth was the only thing that saved him from getting stiff against Mary. He tried not to think about the thin layer of spandex that separated his fingertips from her skin.

Finally, when he had his face under control, he pulled back. Mary’s hands lingered on his chest.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“God.” He took her hand again and led her back toward their beach chairs. “I’m such a jackass for making this about me when it’s supposed to be your relaxation time.”

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