Page 48 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

“I see.”

“Don’t be mad, big brother. My lovely wife and I have only your best interests at heart. I want you to be happy. As happy as I am.”

Tristan scowled. “Why is it that newlyweds always try to drag everyone else into marital bliss?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

John’s smirk was almost enough to make Tristan regret the boat trip.

But not quite.

He sat in the bow of the boat and eyed the glass-like surface of the lake. The dying rays of the sun painted the water with soft color. “It’s almost dark,” he said. “Shouldn’t we get back? Won’t Tabby be expecting you?”

John raised the anchor. “Yep.” He started the engine. “And to be very clear, I don’t want to be late.”

Tristan went home to his quiet empty house with an uncomfortable image of his brother’s smug anticipation. Tabby had been waiting on them when they got back. She’d bubbled over with all the fun she had with her friends.

When she hugged Tristan’s neck, he realized anew how nice it was to have a sister.

But now he was on his own again and wondering if a thirty-two-year-old man wanted more out of life than a series of superficial relationships. To be honest, the women in his past could scarcely be called relationships. More like recreational partners.

What did that say about him?

At work the next morning, he came up with a plan. Number one: ask Harold’s permission to share his news with Daley. Number two: get her thoughts on the matter. Number three: invite her to be his date for Tabby and John’s wedding reception in a week.

It made sense. In fact, Daley might have already assumed they were going together. In an odd kind of way, they were unrelated relatives now.

He waited until the office cleared out. It was Friday afternoon. Few people lingered past the stroke of five. Tristan had studied Daley’s pattern enough already to know that she liked half an hour to herself at the end of the day to tidy her desk and make notes for the following morning.

A five fifteen, when he strolled downstairs, he found her doing exactly that. The door to the suite of offices was open. He knocked anyway. Daley’s office was in the far corner, but she was in the reception area where she entertained prospective clients.

She looked up when she heard him. The smile on her face was equal parts polite courtesy and caution. “Hi, Tristan. How are you feeling?”

“Almost back to normal. May I come in?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

The lobby was outfitted with two love seats and a collection of armchairs flanking a large coffee table. He chose one of the chairs and sat down with a sigh. “How was your week? Are you and your people settling in?”

“We are,” she said, taking a seat across the table from him. “Everyone here has been very welcoming.”

“Good,” he said.

An uncomfortable silence crept in between them.

Daley folded her hands in her lap, her gaze sliding past him. “Is there something wrong, or is this a social visit?”

She was palpably nervous. Did she think he was going to suggest hooking up this evening? The thought short-circuited his brain and hardened everything in his body. But first things first.

“I have some news,” he said quietly. “Harold has given me permission to share it with you, but the situation is confidential for now. He’s asked that neither you nor I talk about it to anyone else in the building. Not until he’s ready.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Her words were lighthearted, but he saw anxiety in her eyes. “I don’t mean to be dramatic,” he said.

“Tristan,” she said, her tone exasperated. “We’re alone here. What’s going on? Tell me before I expire of curiosity.”

It was hard to say out loud. “Harold has cancer. I don’t know how bad. He was cagey with the details.”

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