Then it was their turn. Chloe braced herself, wondering what sort of greeting Angel would give them. From what Ed had told her, Nathan had not been cordial toward the woman he considered his mother’s usurper.
But the bride’s smile did not falter or dim. “Nathan, you were so good to come,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders so he would bend to let her kiss his cheek. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”
Chloe felt him stiffen. “It seemed like too important an occasion to miss,” he said. “Angel, meet Chloe Russell.” He moved Chloe forward so she stood in front of him almost like a shield.
“Best wishes to you for a happy future,” Chloe said, holding out her hand.
Angel drew her in for a hug. “Thank you, my dear. I feel as though I’m carrying our future with me,” she said, resting one palm on the soft swell of her stomach. “Strange miracles sometimes happen.”
A shudder passed through Nathan. Chloe quickly moved sideways to get him away from Angel. That brought them face-to-face with General Trainor.
“Congratulations, sir,” Nathan said, squaring his shoulders and offering his hand to his father.
Ironically, Nathan’s posture was more rigid than the general’s. The older man pulled his son in for one of those quick, hard hugs men give each other. Chloe let her hand slide loose from Nathan’s arm so he couldn’t use her for that shielding maneuver again.
When the general stepped back, Chloe could see a glitter of moisture in his eyes. Hope bloomed in her chest. The father was prepared to embrace his son. Now she just had to get Nathan to meet his father halfway . . . or even a quarter of the way. She got the sense that General Trainor would be willing to go the extra distance.
The general touched the hilt of the antique sword that hung in its scabbard on his belt. “Having this with me for the ceremony was something I hadn’t hoped for and probably didn’t deserve. Thank you for your generosity.”
“You’re thanking the wrong person,” Nathan said, putting his arm around Chloe’s waist to nudge her in front of him. “She’s responsible for the sword’s presence.”
When disappointment shadowed the general’s eyes, Chloe wanted to stomp her stiletto heel hard on the arch of Nathan’s foot. “He’s exaggerating,” she said. “I’m sure you know that Nathan doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.” She deliberately did not look at Nathan to see how he reacted to her statement. Instead she stood on tiptoe to give the general a peck on the cheek. “Many congratulations, sir. You and Angel make a lovely couple.”
“Well, she’s lovely, and I make us a couple,” Nathan’s father said, a spark of humor on his face. He took both of Chloe’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “It’s good to have you here, young lady. I’m glad my son brought you.” He gave Nathan a shrewd look. “Or you brought my son. Either way works for me.”
Chloe slanted a look up at Nathan. His brows were drawn together in what she thought might be regret. “I wish you and Angel happiness together,” he said. “I think you’ve earned a chance at it.”
His father’s posture stiffened and Chloe waited to see what that meant. “That’s a good wish,” the general said, “and a surprising one. I accept it with humility and gratitude.” He shifted his gaze back to Chloe. “Stick with him, Chloe. We Trainor men improve with age.”
She gave the general a smile as they moved away to let the next guest offer congratulations. Nathan led her toward the bar across the room, muttering, “Let’s get something to dull our senses.”
“Is it that hard to be civil to your father?” she asked with genuine puzzlement.
He stopped in the middle of the dance floor and frowned down at her. “Civil, no. Sincere, yes. Celebrating his marriage to his pregnant girlfriend is not something I’m able to feel joy about.”
“You sounded sincere when you said he deserved a chance at happiness. And it surprised him.”
He gave a tight smile. “Surprising the general is an accomplishment in itself.” He looked down at the floor. “My mother’s mental health issues were not his fault. He didn’t handle them well, but he didn’t create them.” He took a deep breath. “No one deserves to go through the hell of having his wife commit suicide.”
He lifted his eyes to hers, and they were bleak with pain. She wanted to wrap herself around him and make him forget. Instead she cupped her palm against his cheek, feeling the satin of his freshly shaved skin. “You don’t need a drink. You’ve forgiven him.”
He made a gesture of disagreement. “There’s a difference between understanding and forgiveness.”
“One leads to the other.”
“You’re an eternal optimist.” He took her hand away from his face and used it to move her toward the bar again. “A glass of champagne and a scotch on the rocks.”