I nod.
“All right,” Gramps says, huffing and puffing. “Let’s get a seat before I pop a squat right here and make the bride walk around me.”
I clutch Gramps’s hand the same way I saw Wade do. We start toward the chairs in what might be the slowest walk I’ve ever done.
“You’re here as a guest of Holt,” Gramps says as we approach the seating area. “But are you here with Wade?”
My cheeks flush because I don’t know how to answer.
We reach the chairs in the nick of time, and Gramps chooses a seat in the back row on the far end. He collapses with a hearty exhale. Then he pats the seat next to him.
I sit hesitantly.
“You know,” he says, catching his breath, “I’ve never seen Wade with a woman.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I’m sure he gets a little something somewhere, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me. “But he’s never brought anyone around. Not with me, anyway. Maybe to his parents, but I’ve never witnessed it.”
This information rolls around my brain. I didn’t expect it. Sure, he’s standoffish, but I never imagined him to be that much of a loner.
The idea makes me sad for him. It’s possible he’s with someone in his own private time like Gramps said, but how much of that time even exists with how much he works?
“I used to spend a lot of time with Holt,” Gramps says. “When he was little, he used to visit me in the office—Ollie too. I’d set them up with fake jobs to do, and they’d eat it up.” Gramps chuckles to himself. “Coy and Boone come by and watch golf with me sometimes. Boone used to do it to hide from Holt. But he’s straightening up now thanks to Jaxi and that little pipsqueak of theirs. That little girl is as cute as can be. Have you met her?”
I shake my head.
He hums. “I’m sure you will.” He digs around in his jacket pocket and pulls out two spearmint Life Savers. He hands me one. “How long have you known Wade?”
“Not long,” I say, figuring that was a better answer than a few weeks.
He pops his candy in his mouth. I follow suit. It tastes like men’s cologne and a hint of tobacco.
“He’s a tough cookie. But I’m sure you know that,” he says, rolling the candy around his mouth.
I suck on the Lifesaver, too polite to spit it out, and contemplate my situation. Is it ethical to pump information out of an eighty-five-year-old man?
I’m not sure until I look at Gramps. He’s grinning a toothy grin with a twinkle in his eye.
Game on.
“I’ll bite,” I say, making him laugh. “Why is your grandson such a tough cookie?”
He keeps chuckling. “That I don’t have the answer to, darlin’. But I do know this—I’ve never gotten anything worth a damn without working for it, if you know what I mean.”
Gramps reaches over and pats my hand. Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I turn around.
Wade sits beside me, watching his grandfather with a heavy dose of skepticism. “You didn’t fill her with a bunch of garbage, did you?”
Gramps chuckles. “Just a Lifesaver.” He looks at me and winks. “How’s your brother, Wade?”
“He’s … happy.”
I laugh. “That’s a good thing. Don’t say it like he just drank poison.”
Wade makes a face and adjusts his tie.
“Want a Life Saver, Wade?” Gramps asks.
“No, but thank you.” Wade leans back out of Gramps’s sight and makes a face in disgust.
I giggle.
The violins begin to play louder as people file in and take their seats. Gramps gets into a discussion with a gentleman on his other side, leaving Wade and me to ourselves.
I take in the beauty of the gardens. There are so many moments I could capture, and I wish I’d have brought my camera.
“What are you thinking?” Wade says loud enough only for me to hear.
I turn to face him, not realizing how close he is to me. My breath sucks in past my lips.
Whether it’s the reflection of the lights strung overhead, or it’s his eyes themselves, there’s a twinkle there that takes my breath away.
“I was thinking about …” You. “About all the pictures I could take here,” I say.
His brows pull together. “Like what?”
“Well …” I glance around. “Imagine if you stood at the pillars at the entry and got the Hardwig house in the background at the perfect angle to capture the glow from the setting sun.” I close my eyes and imagine the feeling of contentment that picture would bring to anyone viewing it. “Or if you stood in one of the windows of the Hardwig and captured a view of the gardens from that vantage point. Or … who knows what’s all in this estate? This is just a little piece.”
I open my eyes to see him watching me. “Those sound intriguing.”
He means it. I can tell by the tone he used and the inflections in his voice. He listened to me as a professional, as someone with a passion for what I do.
“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks aching.
He rolls his eyes but grins too.
The crowd grows quiet. I have no idea where they get their cues from, but the violins fade. As their notes soften, a piano begins to play.
The music flows so beautifully that it fills the entire garden with joy. I search the area until I find a white piano on a small platform covered in flowers.
“That is my cousin Larissa’s boyfriend, Hollis,” Wade whispers, pointing at the pianist.
I can feel the heat on my skin from his breath. Instinctively, I want to lean into him, but I don’t. I’m not sure what he would do if I did.
“You used boyfriend pretty certainly,” I joke.
“Trust me. If Riss got engaged, we’d all know it.”
I look at him over my shoulder and smile. “Do I sense a little protective big cousin?”
He shrugs and looks away … and I was wrong when I thought he couldn’t get any sexier than when he was standing on my doorstep in a suit.
Ushers walk various people up the aisle and get them seated at the front. And then the music changes again. The violins join back in this time, and the wedding party makes their way to the arch.
“Those dresses are gorgeous,” I say softly, admiring the pale pink fashions of the bridesmaids.
Wade leans in. “Those are Blaire’s brothers’ wives, I’m pretty sure, and Larissa since she’s like our sister. I think some of Holt’s groomsmen are Blaire’s brothers. I’m not sure.”
“You sure know a lot about them for a guy who didn’t want to be involved.”
He gives me a look. “I had dinner with them all last night after their rehearsal. I tried to learn as little as possible so I don’t feel obligated to talk to anyone tonight.”
“You are such an asshole,” I tease.
He shrugs and redirects his attention back to the parade of bodies coming down the white carpet.
Finally, the telltale notes of the “Bridal Chorus” ring through the garden, and the guests all stand. I assist Gramps, holding on to his elbow.