Loretta doesn’t let me finish. “I think you should pass it down to Vivi at an equally important time in her life.”
My eyes water, and I try to blink the moisture away. “Maybe I spoke too soon,” I say as I finally take the necklace. It’s short and will fit like a choker. It’s dainty, but also sexy and unique. “I love it. Though I’m not sure this could be considered an important time in my life.”
She smiles at me, kind and wise, like she knows something I don’t. “I was thinking I could bring Vivi home and put her to bed when the timing is right. Let you kids have some fun tonight. You could let your hair down a bit. Maybe that’s important for you right now.”
“I could.” I’m still running my fingers over the pearls. “I’m not good at letting my hair down though.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Spend more time around Theo, and he’ll show you how.”
“That’s what worries me,” I whisper, confessing one of the anxieties I have about Theo Silva. “He just . . . I have a hard time trusting anyone.” I snort and glance up at her. “I’m like a walking, talking daddy issue. And no matter how hard I try not to let my head go back to that place . . . it does.”
Loretta nods, her mouth curling into a smile. “As the person who has known him the longest in this life, I’m going to tell you what I know about Theo.”
“Okay.”
“Theo loves easily. That’s just his nature. But he doesn’t often love hard. He keeps that part of himself, the one that’s seen loss too, locked up tight where it can’t get hurt. But you, girl? He loves you hard.”
I blink, trying to absorb what she’s just told me.
“Okay?” She pushes to stand.
“Okay,” I reply again.
It’s when she’s almost at the door with a sleeping Vivi in her arms that she turns back to me on a soft chuckle. “I just remembered that he called me the morning after you two first got together. And do you know what he said to me?
I shake my head. It’s all I can manage.
“He said, ‘Mom, I met her.’ And I said, ‘Who?’” Loretta’s lips curve up, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “He said, ‘The woman I’m going to marry one day.’”
I’m frozen in place. How could he possibly know that? Think that? Why would a one-night stand with me be more impactful that a one-night stand with one of the bajillions of random women I’m sure he’s slept with over the years?
“I asked him if she knew about this and he laughed and said, ‘Not yet.’”
26
Theo
Theo: That fucking dress should be illegal.
Winter: Is that why you’re glaring at me from across the room? It’s a wedding. Act happy.
Theo: I’m undressing you with my eyes.
Winter: Cheesy.
Theo: Fine. I’m trying to decide if I should rip those thin straps or even bother taking the dress off at all.
Winter: Who told you that you’d be taking my dress off?
Theo: You haven’t yet, but you will.
Winter: Rude.
Theo: Rude is me telling you that if you wanted a pearl necklace, I could have given you one.
Winter: Extra rude.
Theo: I’ll stop being rude when it stops making you turn that pretty pink color.
Every person in the vintage-style barn has their eyes on Summer as she and Rhett exchange vows at the front of the aisle.
Except me.
I have mine on Winter. And I can’t take them off.
Partly because of her clingy silky dress, held up by such dainty straps. Everything about the delicate garment is so easily lifted or ripped. And then she’s wearing this pretty choker-style pearl necklace, and I can’t help but wonder if she did it to test my control and my maturity. I can’t wait to whisper something dirty in her ear about pearl necklaces and watch her squirm.
But most of all, my eyes are stuck on her because every time her gaze meets mine, her skin turns this tulip-pink color, and she acts like she’s found something interesting in the rows of people watching the ceremony. Her lips will press together, her lashes will flutter, and her gaze will find its way back to me.
I shouldn’t eye-fuck her so blatantly at the front of her sister’s wedding, but I have been since we all met up in the back room. I couldn’t be more clichéd, the best man drooling over the maid of honor at a wedding. Especially since I’m only the best man because Rhett didn’t want to pick one of his brothers over the others.
Before I know it, the justice of the peace announces they can kiss and everyone in attendance cheers. When I hear a loud whistle, I turn and see Kip, Winter and Summer’s dad. I should find it endearing he’s here fervently supporting his daughter, but I saw the pain that flashed over Winter’s face when he walked Summer down the aisle to us.
Glancing over at Winter, I find her eyes on me. This time, I toss her a wink. Her cheeks flame and her lips purse as she looks away, trying to hide her smile.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of much of the same. Stolen glances. Posed photographs. A hand on her back, just a little too low. Family speeches. My foot pressed against hers under the head table. The first dance. Me wiping the icing off her lip from the cake.
The tension is so thick between us, I could cut it with a butter knife.
It’s when the dancing starts that my cheeky, happy little bubble bursts and I have my first run-in with a feeling I’m not well acquainted with at all.
Jealousy.
Beau Eaton snags Winter for an upbeat two-step and all I can see is his hand on the small of her back. His fingers wrapped around where mine should be. And I hate it.
As the song changes into a slow dance and he doesn’t let her go, my agitation builds. I shift my weight on the spot. Her eyes search for me, and when she finds me, she smiles. I lean against the bar, bottle of beer in hand, burning lasers into a guy I generally like for daring to dance with the woman I’m in love with while I wait for her to decide if she might like to be in love with me too.
It’s when I feel an elbow against my side that I realize Harvey Eaton has moved in beside me. “Gonna tell you what I told Rhett a couple of years ago when Beau was putting moves on Summer right in front of him.”
I snort. “Brave.”
Harvey chuckles and takes a swig of his beer, watching them too. “Doesn’t much matter who she’s dancing with when her eyes are on you.”
“Yeah.” I scrub at my stubble, hoping to loosen some of the tension in my jaw.
“Plus, it’s not what it looks like. I told Beau to stop being a moody asshole and apologize to Winter. See how awkward they are? Was kinda getting a kick out of it myself, like two virginal teenagers at their first dance. Straight-arming each other’s shoulders. Not like you two feral cats on the procreation prowl.”
“Sorry, the procreation prowl?”
“I googled it after you lot made fun of my analogy. But I was right. You’re the tom and she’s the queen. Ya’ll were blowing shit up like Americans on the fourth of July and then going at it like it’s mating season.”
“This is truly the analogy that never ends.”
“I’m not wrong. Our southern neighbors love to celebrate their independence by blowing off their fingers with excessive fireworks. There are statistics.”
“On Google, I presume?”
He scoffs. “Yes.”
“You are a national treasure, Harvey Eaton.” I chuckle and take a sip of my drink, eyes still plastered to the dance floor. Now that he mentions it . . . there is a leaden quality to the way they’re moving. “What’d he do to her?”
Harvey shakes his head, his humor leeching away now. “Bah. Acted like a sullen dickhead when she tried to help him. I’m sure she wasn’t warm and fuzzy about it. But still. This is the new normal for Beau, unfortunately.”
It’s been a tough road for Beau. I don’t know him well, but I know he’s not the same. Not after he spent days on end hiding in enemy territory with a hostage he freed. A Canadian journalist who’d been missing forever. It was plastered all over the evening news. The hero who walked through fire and knowingly missed his transport out to save a fellow Canadian.
The only person who doesn’t seem impressed by Beau is, well, Beau.
Harvey clears his throat. “He’s getting better though. Ya know? Takes time to adjust to civilian life. Ah—” Harvey gestures at the dance floor with his beer. “There he goes. Still a good boy at heart.”
And sure enough, between the two songs, he steps away from Winter, drops his eyes, and his lips move. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but Winter nods, looking more like the medical professional she is than the woman who keeps making fun of my middle name.
They shake hands and part ways. Winter turns and saunters toward me, that pink silk slipping against the outer curve of her hips. Beau crosses to the opposite side of the dance floor and leans against the bar where a pretty brunette is slinging drinks. She barely glances his way, but hands him a soda before he even says a word.
“And would you look at that. The queen coming back to her tom. Must be mating season.” Harvey cackles to himself as he moves into the crowd, presumably to make jokes that toe the line of appropriate to someone else.