Petunia glared at Grandma. “You’re a heathen.”
“At least I’m not a heathen in hiding… Where’s your whip, Petunia?”
Char’s eyes widened.
Wescott chuckled. “Now let’s just calm down, everyone. We’re here to celebrate—”
“Probably with your red heels, you tattooed hussy!” Petunia screamed.
“I do like those heels,” Grandma said longingly.
“Oh look, dinner!” Bets said in a high-pitched voice. “Everyone, eat, eat!” She clapped and began piling food brought in by the waiters that came with the catering crew onto her plate.
“Oysters.” Grandma pointed to one of the buckets. “Eat up, Travis. You’ll need this tomorrow night.”
He cursed and looked to the sky. “And I was doing so well reining it in.”
“If that’s you reining it in, I’m a nun.” Grandma winked while Travis groaned and scooted away from Kacey.
“Oh look!” Bets pointed to the middle of the table. “We’re out of wine.”
“I’ll get some!” Travis shouted, pulling back from the table, his hand firmly grasping Kacey’s forearm.
Grandma calmly reached into her purse and pulled out a collar that looked a lot like the kind you’d put on a dog in order to shock it. “Sit down, Travis.”
With a curse he sat.
“I’ll uh, I’ll go.” Char rose from her seat.
“Me too.” This from Jace. “You may get lost in that wine cellar.”
“My hero,” she said dryly. Although he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was trained on Grandma. He nodded just once and then looked back at Char.
“Ready?” He offered his arm, ignoring her curious look altogether.
They walked in silence the rest of the way back to the house.
Chapter Forty-five
Jake was going to give them exactly five minutes alone before he burst into the wine cellar, guns blazing. He had just been about to offer to escort her when Jace rose from the other end of the table. Jace had exchanged a weird look with Grandma then left.
Eyes narrowing, Jake took a sip of wine and watched the door, waiting for their return. He checked his watch. Damn, it had only been thirty seconds.
“My, my.” Grandma pulled up a chair next to his. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Huh?” Jake flinched when a bird landed on the doorknob. Wow, how pathetic was he?
“You’ve chosen well.” Grandma sighed. “Why, I would have picked her myself, had I anything to do with matters. But my matchmaking days are over, as you well know.”
“Right.” Jake licked his lips and checked his watch again. A minute and a half. He was in Hell.
“… so I just need you to sign here.” A pen was forced into his hand. He barely glanced down at the paper and signed his name where Grandma’s hand was hovering, then handed the pen back to her. “Three minutes, Jake, it’s been barely three minutes. Not much can happen in three minutes. Well, except…” Grandma chuckled. “That one time your grandfather and I only had five minutes and you won’t believe the ways we—”
Jake jumped to his feet and stomped toward the house.
*
The Titus’ wine cellar was like something out of a magazine. There was a granite bar on one side of the room with leather stools lined up along it. They even had their own brand of beer, since brewing was one of Wescott’s hobbies. Wine bottles lined most of the walls. It could be like heaven. Even the company wasn’t so bad, except again, he wasn’t who she would have chosen. Maybe she just needed to be thankful.
“So.” Jace pulled a bottle out. “How about this one? A vintage merlot?”
“Sure.” Char couldn’t care less. Mindlessly she wandered toward the bar. A few framed pictures were scattered across the table top. One of them was of Jake and Travis as kids. Kacey was between them, kissing Jake on the cheek.
Kacey had always been where Char wanted to be.
Not that she’d ever been jealous enough to end their friendship, but with Kacey things had always been so easy.
“You okay?” Jace came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Yeah.” Char tensed. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve been talking to you for the past few minutes and you haven’t even made a sound. I swear I was worried you weren’t breathing.”
Laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it.
“There it is,” Jace whispered.
“What?” She turned around to face him.
“The laughter. I like the way you laugh. You don’t do it enough.”
Char licked her lips and leaned back against the bar. “It’s been a rough week. What can I say?”
Jace nodded. “I know.”
How could he possibly know? He didn’t even know her!
“Unrequited love isn’t for the weak.” He reached for the corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring her a small glass and one for himself. He lifted it into the air, clinking it against hers. “How are you holding up?”
“How do you even know—?”