That Saturday Charlotte followed her bride and groom off the limo bus and toward the entrance to the Stag. Although their wedding day was going well, she couldn’t help feeling down after the week’s events, which still weighed heavily on her mind. She’d barely slept a full night or been able to get much editing done, she’d been so wrapped up with worry for Dean and his sister, and also sadness for herself, which made her feel guilty. If anyone was the victim in the situation, it definitely wasn’t her.
Since parting ways with Dean on Wednesday, she’d only spoken to him three times, all via text. Once to tell him—again—how sorry she was, to which he’d replied with a thank you. The second time she’d reached out asking if he’d like her to deal with speaking to all of their booked vendors. To that he’d replied with, I’d really appreciate that. Thank you so much for everything, Charlotte. Kind enough, but she’d really hoped for something more along the lines of, What I really need is you beside me.
Sure, she could have been bold and offered to come over, or just shown up at his place, but something had held her back. What if she ran into Amy? Had their mutual grief and concern for the woman they felt so close to sent them back into each other’s arms in a more intimate way? Pain had a way of making a person do crazy things, as she knew very well.
The third time she’d texted him was to ask when the funeral was, and to that he’d never replied. There could be an easy explanation. He was busy, he was in Georgia, or maybe he was so overwhelmed with his thoughts that he just didn’t care to reply. Whatever the reason, it hurt like hell. She knew he was dealing with something tragic, but it was hard not to be angry at him for cutting her off in this way. They’d been dating, no doubt about it, and his dismissal cut her deep.
Didn’t he need her?
So why did she hope to see him here tonight? That just seemed like a good way to be miserable when she should be focusing on the beauty of this couple’s wedding day.
Stepping into the Stag, Charlotte inhaled the alcohol mixed with whatever delicious entrée the caterer upstairs had brought in. She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of whichever one of the guys was working tonight. Once upon a time, Dean would have been standing here waiting for her, but now she wasn’t sure if his absence meant he wasn’t here or he was no longer going to be that man to her. The thought was so painful her breath caught.
Her bride sat down on one of the sofas and took a deep breath. Charlotte forced a smile and walked over to her. “It’s been a long day. We’re in the home stretch and this is the fun part.”
“I’m ready to just whisk her away to the hotel and order room service,” the groom said, smiling at his wife, who gave him a saucy wink.
“Sounds good, honey, but my parents would kill us. They spent way too much on this reception.”
“Why don’t we take a couple of relaxed portraits here under this chandelier? Give you guys an excuse to take a little breather. I’ll even pose you on the sofa.”
“Sounds good,” the groom said.
Charlotte set to arranging them in a very relaxed way, almost as if they were lounging in a loving embrace, a much smaller version of the deer-antler fixture hanging over their heads. The Stag faced west, allowing a beautiful golden light to filter in the front windows, highlighting the copper still beyond them and making their skin radiant.
“Beautiful. Just lean in close, right there.” She pressed her shutter several times, made an adjustment and then a few more. “These are nice.”
“That looks nice,” a voice said beside her. A voice that one time had been oh so right to her ears, but was now completely wrong.
Charlotte lowered her camera and turned to find John. She smiled. “Thanks. What are you doing here? Surely they haven’t already forced you to take on a wedding night alone?” she asked hopefully.
He laughed. “Nah. TJ’s upstairs. This is my training night. They all seemed relieved to have another person to fill in on weekend nights.”
“I bet. None of them got into this business to be wedding vendors. They just got lucky.”
Charlotte politely excused herself, partly because she had a job to do, but mostly because she suddenly wanted to cry. She walked over to her couple and pressed all emotion into a corner of her mind. “Ready to be introduced?”
The rest of the night went well, despite the fact that Lauren wasn’t with her. Tonight she was shooting with Britt, her backup second. She liked Britt a lot. Her images were solid, she was funny, and she almost had the secret across-the-room language down. But her presence just served as another reminder that tonight was all wrong.
When it was finally time for them to grab a spot in the buffet line for dinner, Charlotte caught sight of John and TJ off to the side of the room laughing. She suddenly felt close to tears as she grabbed a plate. She didn’t know Alex, and while the news had saddened her deeply, Nate’s death hadn’t caused Charlotte actual pain. No, the pain she was suffering from was from Dean’s sadness and also his rejection of her.
Because she’d fallen in love with him. Maybe she’d loved him for a while. But it didn’t matter. If he’d loved her in return, he would have turned to her to soothe him in his time of need. He’d have wanted—no, needed—her there with him in Georgia for the funeral.
When Charlotte and Britt had each filled their plates with chicken Alfredo, Caesar salad, chicken Parmesan, and garlic bread, they made their way to the little room beside the bar. Once inside they set their plates down.
“I’m gonna go grab some soda. Can I get you something?” Charlotte asked.
“Sure. I’d love a Diet Coke.”
Charlotte nodded and made her way back out to the main room and got in line at the bar. She was happy to see Jen. At least one face was present to make things seem like normal.
“Hey you,” Jen said. “Usual?”
“Of course.” Charlotte smiled. “And a Diet Coke.”
“How’s Dean holding up?” Jen asked as she poured red syrup into a glass.
“Um, okay, I think.”
Jen made a face as she righted the bottle and grabbed the fountain gun. “I figured you’d go to the funeral with him.”
Charlotte gave her a tight smile. “I would have liked to. He didn’t ask me.”
Jen’s head jerked back. “Why not? It’s this Monday. Did you know that? Alex was supposed to arrive in Georgia today with Nate’s body. Can’t imagine what she’s going through, and Nate’s family. God … it’s just unimaginable.”
Jen’s voice broke a little and her eyes had definitely gotten watery, which made Charlotte even sadder. She knew Jen’s mother was battling cancer and wasn’t really doing the best. Hearing about someone else’s loss must have been hard.
Charlotte tried to change the subject by commenting on the DJ’s choice of song for the meal. They laughed together as Jen made Britt’s drink.
“A word of advice,” Jen said as she slid the Diet Coke across the shiny wooden bar. “Whatever goes on—or doesn’t go on—between you and Dean … don’t let it only be up to him. He won’t get it right. They rarely do.”
Charlotte could have pretended she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t. Jen was too perceptive. Too wise. “I’ll try. Thanks, Jen.”
“Anytime, sister.”
When she pushed open the door to their makeshift break room, Charlotte sucked in a breath when she saw John sitting there laughing with Britt. She hadn’t really seen it necessary to inform her friend who John was to her, but maybe she should have. Their jovial exchange seemed innocent, but it still annoyed Charlotte. This was why she should have just told Dean not to hire John.
Maybe the time had finally come to stop referring the Stag to all her brides. It had been fun, but it would be good to broaden her horizons. For her own emotional health and sanity. Even if she and Dean continued to date, it might be healthy to get some space. Who could blame her for the thought, considering she’d now slept with two out of the four male employees.
A depressing thought, that.
Sitting down on the sofa beside John, Charlotte focused on dinner, which wasn’t really difficult considering how hungry she was. The food was good, although they could have been a little more generous with the garlic, but it was hard to go too wrong with a plate of carbs and dairy.
“It’s not too bad working a wedding here.” John leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“For you I’m sure. Really, you guys just have to be in the building,” Britt said.
“Yeah, that’s what TJ said. It’s a lot different being here at a wedding when you’re not attending the event.”
“I bet.” Charlotte wasn’t trying to be rude, but she knew she was coming off that way. Really she just wanted to eat and get back to work. She was able to get most of her dinner eaten while Britt asked John questions about his apprenticeship, and even Charlotte had to admit it was interesting. She knew some of the basics about the distilling process, but John lit up while he discussed what he was learning from Dean. It wasn’t hard to see why Dean had wanted to bring him on in the first place. He genuinely seemed to find the entire thing fascinating and fun.
Was that how Dean felt about his job? It made Charlotte realize how much she really didn’t know about him. The time they’d been spending together had revolved around Alex and her wedding. It was ironic and poetic that the demise of her nuptials had also been their end.
Charlotte looked up when Britt set down her plate and stood.
“I’m going to the little girls’ room. Be back.”
That left her and John alone, but Charlotte just picked at her garlic bread.
“I still can’t believe what happened to Dean’s sister.” He scooted closer to her on the sofa, and Charlotte fought the urge to scoot away.
“It’s horrible. I was there when he got the call. I sort of still can’t believe it.” Which was true. That night after it had happened, she’d woken up several times during sleep, thinking maybe she’d dreamed it.
“Are you flying down there for the funeral?” he asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.
“Uh, actually no.”
“I’m sure he wants you there. I would if—”
“John.” Charlotte turned hard on the sofa and put out a hand. “There’s something you need to know. Dean and I … we haven’t been seeing each other long. In fact we weren’t a couple before Jason and Shelby’s wedding.”
His head angled a bit, bottom lip dropping open. “What?”
“I lied.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because.…” Charlotte’s voice became frantic, and her hands went out as she glanced around the room in frustration. “You came into my sphere, John. I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t want you here. Especially not when after all these years, I’m still the single girl at the wedding.”
He stared at her, shocked at her outburst and obviously unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry.” Charlotte shook her head. “I know I’m being rude … but, damn it, I really don’t feel like I owe the man who broke up with me on my wedding day my best self.”
John blinked once. Twice, and then folded his hands together. “No, you don’t. What I did to you was low. Worse than low. It was selfish and cowardly.”
She was not going to disagree with him, because, well, she didn’t disagree. At the same time, though, she wasn’t in the market to make him pay. It served no purpose, and really there was no longer any satisfaction in it.
“It was all of those things. But while I disagree with your method, we weren’t supposed to get married. You knew that, and I was in denial over it.”
“You were grieving, Charlotte. So was I. Probably why I acted cowardly. It killed me to know that I would be ripping out a heart that had already been broken. But you losing the—our—baby made me realize my true feelings. And I know that makes me sound like an asshole, but we weren’t meant be together. Sure, we would have stayed together had you remained pregnant. We’d have gotten married, but eventually we’d have been miserable.”
She knew he was right, although it was still sad to admit it. The part he was forgetting was that while they may have been miserable after marrying each other, at least they’d still have had their sweet baby. The child in her womb that she’d felt fluttering around like a butterfly for three whole days. Did he even realize how hard you could fall in love with the feel of your own baby moving inside you? If she tried, she could still remember what those little swooshes felt like. She desperately wanted to have that again. Someday.
“Why did he go along with it?”
Charlotte turned to John. “Who?”
“Dean. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to lie about a relationship. In all honesty, it’s hard for me to believe. I mean … he’s kind of old for that.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He’s not old.”
“I didn’t say he was … just … never mind.”
“He went along with it for me.”
John’s lips quirked. “And then you two actually stayed together. Maybe you should just thank me.”
Charlotte turned to glare at John. He grinned back at her. They both began to laugh.
“You can thank me that you have an awesome job now,” she said.
“I do thank you for that. Seriously. I did not want to go back to what I was doing before.”
They glanced at each other and then Charlotte looked down at her hands. She was a different woman now, but she could still appreciate the reasons why she’d once loved this man … and at one time, boy. He was never the villain in her story, although it had often been easier to label him as such. But the truth was they were just two young people who had once loved, lost, and then ultimately moved on. Nothing less, nothing more. But now she wanted that more, and she knew who she wanted it with.
* * *
Dean hadn’t slept a full night’s sleep in almost two weeks. For the past several nights, he’d lain in bed listening to Alex cry herself to sleep in the bedroom next to his. It was heart wrenching to hear. They’d been back from Georgia for five days, and not only had she not left the house, he wasn’t even sure if she’d showered.
The first couple of nights he’d tried to stay with her, offer comfort, but she had always asked him to leave the room. He understood; there was really nothing he could do to ease her pain. But this feeling of helplessness was eating him up inside.
When Dean’s bedside clock read one AM, he decided he wasn’t sleeping anytime soon and made his way into the kitchen. Despite his occupation, Dean didn’t consider himself much of a drinker. He obviously appreciated a fine whiskey, or a smooth bourbon, but he didn’t drink it daily. He was more in love with the process. The science and the challenge. Watching others drink what he made, knowing they appreciated it, was what he enjoyed. Tonight, though, he pulled down a bottle of Forkhorn White Whiskey, poured a couple of fingers more than necessary, and topped it with a can of Dr Pepper just because he had it on hand. It had always been Alexis’s favorite soda, so when Amy had stocked his kitchen with her comfort items she’d been sure to get a couple of cases. As far as Dean could tell, they had yet to be touched.
He used the light of the fridge to pour from the can.
“Can I have one?” a small voice said from the end of the cabinet.
Dean’s head jerked up and he gave Alex a tentative smile. “Of course. Just a DP, or you want—”
“The whiskey, too. I want it all.”
Dean nodded and grabbed another glass to make her one. He stood there trying to figure out what to say. Right now he felt like she was a timid animal that had ventured from its shelter and any wrong move or word would send her scampering back, and as selfish as it sounded, he needed to spend some time with her. Not only to verify she was okay—as okay as she could be—but because he was tired of her hiding away. She’d been gone for so long, and he’d missed her.
They hadn’t talked much since she’d gotten back from overseas last week, and while he understood, he’d had questions. Some of Nate’s family had been able to fill in the details, like the fact that the helicopter accident was just that: an accident. It had nothing to do with enemy fire or a mission. It was a technical mishap that had led to pilot error and ended with a landing so hard it had killed two of the four passengers on impact. The other two were injured, one in critical condition the last Dean had heard.
When he handed Alex her drink, Dean realized her hair was down and looked clean. He wasn’t sure when she’d done that, but he hoped it was a sign that she was doing a little better.
“Thanks,” she said quietly before sitting down at the kitchen table.
“You hungry? I can make you something.”
“I don’t know.” She took a drink and winced. Then took another. “Have any mac and cheese?”
Dean almost sighed in relief. Finally, something he could do for her, even it only required boiling some water and stirring. “Of course. Amy bought like four boxes of the shells. Your favorite.”
He pulled one from the cabinet and then set to work filling the pot with water.
“Why didn’t you tell me about you and Amy?”
Dean turned off the sink, uncertain he’d heard her right. “What do you mean?”
“Why did you never tell me she’d been unfaithful?”
Setting the pot on the stove, he turned on the burner. “Who did tell you, is the question.”
“She did.”
Dean turned to stare at his sister, who raised her eyebrows in challenge. He shook his head and opened the box of pasta to pull out the cheese pouch. “I’m sure she explained why it was all my fault. I pushed her to do it.”
“Of course she didn’t. And even if she had, no one forces another person to cheat.”
“We’d gone through some rough things. I wasn’t perfect.”
“You? Nooo.” Alex let out a little laugh, and Dean smiled. It was the first time she’d joked since he’d first seen her standing in Nate’s parents’ driveway, waiting for him to get there like a lost little girl. She’d looked so young and stricken that day. Her shoulders slumped, eyes rimmed red, and hair in a messy ponytail. It had shattered his heart into a million pieces. This girl had gone through so much loss in her life.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she prompted.
“Why didn’t I tell you?” He’d known what she meant, but he was stalling. Finally, he sighed and leaned his hands on the back of the chair across from her. “I already felt bad about the divorce. I knew that in a way, Amy and I had become your parental unit. We were the only family you really had, and I didn’t want you losing everything. I was afraid it would make you have bad feelings for her. You two were so close.”
“So you did it because you were worried about my feelings?”
“If I’d had things my way, we’d have never seen her again. But I don’t regret it, and I don’t want you to stop being close to her for me.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might worry about your feelings, Dean? You’re always worrying about me, but I worry about you, too.”
“Alex, you’re—”
“Yes I know. You see me as a child. But I’m not.” There was no anger in her voice, just honesty. And she was right: No matter how old she seemed to get, in his mind she was always his little sister, fifteen years younger than he was.
“I know you’re not a child, Alexis. Doesn’t meant I don’t want to protect you from pain. What you’re going through now…” He stared at her eyes, which had started to glisten. “I’d do anything to change it. Anything.”
“Me too.” Her voice broke, and before a sob could release she sucked in a deep breath. “Goddamn, I’m so sick of crying. It’s begun to hurt, crying so much. My face hurts, my lips, my head. My whole body feels wrung dry.”
The sound of water boiling behind him drew Dean’s focus, and he walked over to pour the little shells into the pot. He wished he knew why Amy had confided what she did in Alex. Part of his reasoning for not telling his sister at the time was at Amy’s request. She’d begged him not to tell, said it would break her heart if she lost Alex over the split. He knew that as much as Amy had hurt him, she still loved his sister. And she was good to her, so it had made sense not to break either of their hearts any more than necessary.
“I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Isn’t that crazy?” Alex voice was small, and when Dean turned back to her, she was staring off into the living room. “We were supposed to see each other the next day and … God, I was so excited. I knew our wedding was right around the corner. I’ll never know what it was like to marry Nate.”
“Alex…” He wasn’t sure if her talking openly about this was healthy or if he should suggest she stop. It seemed the best action was to let her decide, so he stayed silent after that.
“You know, the hardest part about losing him is that … he’s the person I want there, to tell how bad the pain is. He’s the person I want to hold me while I cry. He’s the person … the only person who would understand why I feel like my life is over. And he’s not here.” She looked back to Dean, lip trembling.
Before he could begin to process what the best response was, she pushed her chair back and within seconds she was around the table and falling against him, her arms locking tight around his waist. Deep heavy sobs ripped from her throat, her chest heaving in and out so hard he could practically feel the sound coming up from the inside of her body against his ribs. He instantly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her head against him, his cheek resting on her hair. She smelled like his cheap shampoo, and he knew that from this point forward he wouldn’t be able to smell that scent without thinking of this devastating moment.
Dean’s eyes blurred with tears, but he remained silent as she cried in his arms. He knew the pasta beside him would be done in a few moments, but there was no way he was moving. The weight of her body against him made him think her legs might give out at any moment, as if the pain was such a heavy load, it was literally pulling her into the ground.
After a long moment, her cries turned to stuttering whimpers. Finally, she moved, reaching toward the counter for a paper towel, and Dean stepped back so she could grab one.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” She was staring down at his T-shirt, which was covered in what was definitely a mix of tears and snot. As she lifted the paper towel to her face and blew, she began to chuckle. He looked up at her and laughed a little, too.
“I guess you should have just used my shirt to blow your nose. Wouldn’t really have made a difference.”
Alex slapped at his arm. “Shut up.”
He used the free moment to grab a strainer and finish preparing her meal. Maybe the first real food she’d eaten in days. While he stirred the goopy cheese into the noodles, she leaned her head on his arm. “Thank you for always taking care of me.”
“It’s my job.” He reached for a bowl in the cabinet, but before he could serve her some she grabbed a fork and stuck it into the pot. He shrugged. “Or you can do that.”
She gave a little smile. “Sorry. I’ll use a bowl. I was just hungry.”
“I’m glad. I was starting to worry about you.” He scooped a hefty serving into the bowl and handed it to her.
“It’s never been your job to take care of me, you know?” she said as she went to sit back down at the table. “But I consider myself lucky that you always have.”
“You were thirteen. And I was legally your guardian. So yes, it was definitely my job. But I wouldn’t change anything, Alex.”
She took a few more bites, and Dean sat back down to his watery cocktail.
“Amy also told me you liked someone. The girl you were, uh … planning with. Charlotte?”
Amy had certainly been chatty. What had prompted all of her admissions? he wondered. Also, the mention of Charlotte deepened the ache in his chest. God, how he missed her. So many times he’d wanted to call her, just to tell her what was going on. How sad, but also how beautiful the funeral had been. Nate’s family were members of a Southern Baptist church. The kind with the soulful choir that made you feel alive even though you were mourning the dead. It had been an incredibly moving experience, especially when all the women had circled his mother and Alexis and put their hands on them, praying out loud for them and for Nate. Dean had never witnessed anything like it, and he’d wished so badly that Charlotte had been there with him.
He’d wanted to share with her how annoying it was when they’d been laid over in Omaha on their flight back the other day. Without her, there wasn’t anyone to truly share with. He’d just wanted her. Wanted to hold her, touch her, kiss her. But every time he’d been close to calling, he’d held back. Reminded himself of his failures. All the things he knew he couldn’t offer.
He’d known what the outcome of his infertility test would be, but to hear it again after all these years had been a blow. Things were worse than they had been, his sperm quality count had dropped dramatically. No doubt him aging ten years had been the reason.
“Was she right?” Alexis urged. “Do you like her?”
“Yeah. Charlotte and I had been spending some time together, seeing how things went.”
“And? Why hasn’t she come around?”
Dean sighed. “Several reasons.”
“Such as…”
“I guess I’ve started thinking maybe we aren’t a great fit. For starters she’s nearly a dozen years younger than I am.”
Alex’s eyes went wide. “Look at you, stud. But I’m not surprised. Do you know how many of my girlfriends had crushes on you? Creeped me out.”
It was Dean’s turn to be surprised. “What? That creeps me out, too.”
“Okay, so she’s younger. So what? That makes her…”
“Almost thirty.”
Alex looked annoyed at that. “I’m pretty sure a thirty-year-old woman is old enough for you. I mean, it’s not like you’re seventy.”
“Okay, fine, it’s not a deal breaker. The other thing is that … I know for a fact she happens to want children, and I … well, I can’t give her that.”
His sister’s eyes softened, full of sympathy and also surprise. “I always wondered why you and Amy never had a child. I used to worry it was because of me. I was too difficult. Or you were waiting for me to move out.”
“No way, Alex. It had nothing to do with you. We tried. Tried for years. Amy had several miscarriages.”
“Did you see a doctor? You know there are things to try.”
Dean nodded. “Yes … to everything. I’m the infertile one, and I even went back to the doctor a couple of weeks ago to get a second opinion. The chances of conception are almost … zero.”
Alex set down her spoon, her eyes going sad. “Dean. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It happens. There are several theories on why, but … the outcome is the same.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“I was going to. But no, I haven’t. I’ve been taking care of you.”
“Don’t use me as an excuse. Dean, you’re sitting here with a girl who just lost the love of her life. Do you seriously think I would have let something like infertility keep me from him? The person you love is all that matters. If you care about this woman … you owe it to both of you to make this decision together.”
It was a little unsettling for his grieving sister to sit here giving him relationship advice. And she wasn’t finished.
“I wish you’d do it for me. I’m tired of you taking care of everyone else but yourself.”
“I can’t believe you’re sitting here right now worrying about me. This is ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous, so stop it. There’s no reason that one of us can’t be happy.”
“Alex, you still have your whole life ahead of you. You’re hurting now, but you’ll love someone again.”
She lifted a hand and shook her head. “Don’t. I can’t even think that thought. Just … at least tell her. Amy said she could tell Charlotte cared about you. Don’t let her wonder why you’re pulling away. Give her a chance to love you. For me.”