Page 71 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

“I’m fine.” The two words were audibly impatient. He shouldn’t use that tone with her. She was only trying to help.

“You’re not fine. I’ve called John. He should be here shortly. And he’s letting your father know. Please come to your office and sit down. Just for a moment.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he snarled.

To her credit, Daley didn’t react. She didn’t even flinch.

Again, she came to him. This time he didn’t step away.

Her arms tightened around his waist. She hugged him tightly. “I am so very sorry,” she whispered.

Tristan was horrified to feel his eyes sting and burn as tears welled from a place deep inside his soul. “He was like another grandfather to me,” he croaked. “More than that, really. A dear friend. A mentor. He taught me everything. Gave me confidence. Opportunity. A solid career.”

“He was very proud of you,” she whispered.

Daley’s comfort and support were an indulgence he couldn’t afford. “I can’t do this,” he said curtly, shoving her away. “The offices are closing, Daley. Go home.”

Fourteen

Tristan was not in a good place. He had carried out his duties. Made all the funeral arrangements. Dealt with immediate work crises. But his grief was overwhelming. He’d never lost anyone close to him to death.

The time with his mother’s illness had given him a taste of what it might be like. Now he knew the full extent. The what-ifs and the if-only feelings.

Tuesday evening, he and John had dinner together. John gazed at him with concern. “Clearly, Harold was closer to the end than he let on,” John said. “Maybe he was never going to have chemo at all. Maybe the talk about selling the company was his way of telling us he was dying.”

“Well, he picked a piss-poor way to communicate it,” Tristan snapped. “He owed us the truth. He owed me the truth.”

“And what if he didn’t know?” John asked quietly. “What if his heart just stopped? It happens, Tristan.”

Tristan put his head in his hands, feeling empty and wrecked. “Sonofabitch.”

“Why don’t you call Daley? Let her come over. You need someone.”

“I don’t need anybody,” Tristan replied, though without heat. Things were all jumbled up in his head, but this much he knew. He and Daley were through. Maybe he loved her. Maybe he didn’t. But he was never going to court this agonizing feeling of loss.

Harold was an old man who lived a great life. Losing him was still a blow.

What if Tristan kept Daley in his life and then lost her? It would destroy him.

It was better to be alone.

He’d known that instinctively for years and lived his life that way.

But Daley’s sweet personality and sexy body had made him believe some things were worth the risk.

And yet, no. No risk was worth this pain.

They weren’t a couple. That was for the best.

Daley thought she knew Tristan Hamilton very well. But she’d been wrong. Never had she expected this complete icing out from him. He’d made her invisible.

Tabby and John had tried to make excuses for him. He was grief-stricken and feeling guilty that he couldn’t save his honorary uncle.

But Daley saw it as more than that. It was at moments like this when people in love held on to each other, held each other up. Tristan had made it painfully clear he didn’t love her or want her during this most emotionally draining time of his life.

He was coping on his own.

For the first two days, she told herself it was just his way. He would come around.

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