Four Weddings and a Break Up (10 page)

It was clear he was intruding on a private family moment. The irony of that didn’t escape him. He wasn’t wanted. So he would do what Jake obviously wanted.

He would leave.

For now.

H
e didn’t know
how he got here. But before he’d known where he was going, he had ended up in front of Ginny’s apartment.

So the conversation hadn’t exactly ended on the greatest note when he’d left earlier. Wes wanted to be upfront with her—he just wasn’t the type of guy who was into the forever thing, and if she somehow found that with someone else during the summer, then . . .

Wes sighed. He was circling around the same issues. He hated circling—he wasn’t a damn vulture, despite what his enemies stated to the press. It wasn’t like him to be so insecure about his place, his role, and how to accomplish a task. Frustrated, he shoved a hand through his hair. Maybe Ginny wouldn’t be happy to see him, but he had nowhere else to go . . . no one who knew him.

His mouth twisted. He’d told her hours earlier that it wasn’t necessary for them to know each other, that they could basically keep this superficial. Yet here he was because she had been the only person he could think of when he needed someone to go to.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, the sky becoming an indigo blue. Dinner had come and gone, though he and his family skipped the meal so wrapped up in the possibility of cancer recurring in Dad. Now, his stomach rumbled and his head was so wrapped up in what he needed to do—and before the summer ended when he would leave—that for a moment, in the solitary confinement of his SUV, he allowed himself a moment of bowed shoulders, of letting the waves of defeat wash over him. For just sixty seconds.

For sixty seconds, he let himself think he wouldn’t be successful. That coming home was a big mistake because it was obvious his brothers weren’t welcoming him, and those ideal family reunions only happened in the movies. He let himself think of going back to Las Vegas in late August, and having his non-relationship with his family be just that, and putting everything back into work—his heart, soul, energy. He thought how empty his life would be, even surrounded in a city of lights, noise, and crowds and crowds of people.

He let himself experience failure.

Because, when he first started his business at twenty-three, he’d struggled. And he’d had failures throughout the years along with his successes. He knew what it was to come up short, and he had made it a practice at an early age to do everything in his power to ensure any disappointments were forgotten or regarded as minor compared to his accomplishments. He’d never forgotten how it felt to fail.

Except this was his family. This was personal.

For the longest time, his work had been his family. He’d focused so much on making sure D&A succeeded beyond anyone’s expectations. He hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He had worked and worked his way up, driven to make something out of himself, determined to make his mom proud, and a little bit to spite his dad for never really being there for him. As if to say,
See, I didn’t need you after all. Look at all the money I have. Look at the buildings I’ve built. Look how my life is full of hot cities, hot cars, and hotter women
.

It was all so empty.

For no matter what he had achieved, it paled in comparison to what was missing from his life. After his mom had died, there had been that one moment after her funeral, sitting in the small apartment she’d been raised him in, when Wes had realized it was just him.

Unless he tried to make a connection with his brothers and his father.

So far he hadn’t done such a great job of that. Leaving when the going got tough. Letting himself get intimidated by Jake and his brothers’ relationships with their father. Feeling inadequate because he had no idea how to do things properly around them.

And worst of all was being vulnerable, like a ten-year-old version of himself, who had so wanted his father’s love and attention but felt out of place, unwanted, and not as loved as his brothers.

Wes let himself feel all these things, until the secondhand hit the twelve, signaling a full minute had passed. And then, like everything else he did in his life, he stopped and hid his underbelly under a virtual suit of armor so thick that one would wonder if there were any chinks.

No one ever needed to know that there were so many chinks, it would take only the smallest scratch to unravel all he tried so hard to hold together.

G
inny was wearing
her favorite pajamas, a purple and green striped set, when the doorbell rang. Her big fuzzy pink slippers were on the floor beside her small navy blue couch. She screwed on the top of her nail polish, her right foot painted, her left foot still bare, and let the DVD menu for
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
remain on the TV. As Ginny passed the kitchen, she gave a cursory glance toward the oven, where she was baking nachos. The smell of melting cheese made her stomach growl.

Aware of her braless state, she grabbed the grey hoodie that she’d tossed on the kitchen table, slipped the sweatshirt on, and went downstairs to answer the door. Out of habit, she checked the peephole and rocked back in surprise.

Wes
? What was he doing here?

She opened the door a few inches. After all she
was
in her pajamas. At 7 p.m. Always staying classy. “Wes?”

“Hey, Ginny.” His eyes flicked up and down. “Were you sleeping?”

“No.” She zipped up her hoodie and snuck a look at him. His hair was mussed, and there was a hint of something in his gaze. Something wounded, like he was hurting. “I was making nachos and going to watch a movie.”

“Which movie?”

“
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
.” She resisted the urge to fidget under his steady gaze. She’d never had anyone look at her so thoroughly before, as if he were trying to figure her out. But that was ridiculous given their earlier conversation. “Ever see it?”

Even as she asked the question and a blank look came over his face, she’d known he hadn’t.

“I’m assuming there’s breakfast involved,” he said.

Something was wrong if he was making lame jokes. She leaned against the door. “Why are you here, Wes?” she asked gently.

“I was driving.”

Okay. So he still wanted to keep things distant between them. Nothing real. She should shut the door in his face, ignore his “I’m trying to be tough, but I’m failing miserably” expression, and enjoy her nachos and her movie. But that’s not who she was.

She didn’t pity him. She didn’t even know what was really going on that had made him come over here. But part of their agreement was to be friends. Maybe Wes didn’t know how to be friends with a woman, or perhaps he didn’t have many outside his business contacts. The same couldn’t be said for her. Sure, she didn’t feel like she belonged, and she hated the recent attention, but she did have a close circle of friends. Her sister, her mom, some girls from high school and college, and well she knew what friends were. She knew how to be one.

And it was obvious to her that Wes needed a friend right now, and even if that was all he would ever want from her, she couldn’t find it in herself to deny him.

“You want to come in?” Ginny kept the question casual. “You might like the movie.”

He was silent for a long moment. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” She opened the door and waited for him to enter before she shut and locked it behind him. She gestured for him to climb the stairs ahead of her, because there was no way, she was going to do that when his eyes would be level with her butt. As soon as she’d seen Wes through the peephole, she’d become aware that her bra wasn’t the only article of clothing she was missing beneath her pajamas.
Just friends,
she reminded herself as she followed him upstairs, ogling his butt in an entirely friendly manner.

Ginny gave him a brief tour of her one-bedroom apartment, then led him into the kitchen.

“But there are three rules,” she said, as she took the nachos out of the oven. The cheese was a little burnt, but with the salsa con queso and salsa, they would still hit the spot.

“Rules.” He leaned on the kitchen counter. “You sure like those.”

Well, some of his old self was returning if he was poking fun at her. “Yes. I do. Rules set parameters.”

“And you like ducks,” he observed, as he fingered a small, stuffed black duck on her kitchen counter.

Ginny’s cheeks heated. “Ducks are adorable. Swans are vastly overrated.”

“So the rules?”

She placed the nachos on a plate and the two salsas in glass dishes, then carried them into the living room. She sat at one end of the couch, and Wes took the other. “Okay. These are
very
important rules, and you have to obey.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

She held up an index finger. “Rule number one: Absolutely no talking during the movie. This is my absolute favorite movie of all times.”

“No talking whatsoever? What about if I have a question?”

“No exceptions.” She narrowed her eyes. “Got it?”

He gave a mock shudder. “Yes. What’s the next rule?”

“Second rule: You are not allowed to make fun of the movie. Whatsoever.” After he nodded, she grabbed the remote. “And the last rule . . . well, the last rule is that you are not to make fun of me when I cry.”

“You’re going to cry?” He sounded horrified.

“Oh, god. Of course I am. There’s this one part . . .” Ginny broke off, her eyes just watering thinking about it. “Well, I’m not going to spoil it for you. You’re going to love it.”

“Yeah. Crying is so up my alley.”

She tossed a pillow at him and pressed play. “Shut up.”

W
es would never admit this
, but the movie wasn’t bad for a chick flick.

He especially liked stealing glances every now and then at Ginny, who had curled up both feet under her. He had noticed that her toes on her right foot were painted a bright purple, and the left foot was bare. And yeah, he might have also noticed when she’d unzipped her hoodie and slipped it off only to pull a blanket over her legs and up over her breasts.

He was a man, after all.

Then there was one part where Audrey Hepburn started singing. Wes started to turn to Ginny, affronted that she’d neglected to tell him this was a
musical
. But then the wistfulness . . . the heartbreak . . . in Audrey, or Holly Golightly’s voice, got to him.

This time when he looked over at Ginny, it wasn’t to check her out; it was to look at her in a whole new way. She belonged to this community, but it was obvious she didn’t like the attention on her from the shooting, and that she didn’t feel part of it. Sort of like him. Both of them were trying to find their place in this crazy world, and maybe they had more in common than they had both originally assumed.

Maybe it was possible to actually have a real friendship with her. Maybe it was possible that they could actually stick together this summer, and that at the end, it didn’t actually mean the end. They could still be friends when he returned to Vegas.

If he started approaching all his relationships differently—trying to see the common denominators and not what separated them. If he made more of an effort with his family and became more pro-active, his original goals of success would be met.

All he had to do was try.

W
es had
his chance the next morning when they all were working on a renovation project on a three-story, cream house. They had been busy, tearing down the plastered walls. Although the beams still stood. Dad had sat on a stool in the kitchen, a small space that had been sectioned off from the other areas. But now with those walls down, the kitchen opened up to the living room and into the hallway.

When he had returned home last night, no one asked where he had been. Only Seth remained, sleeping on the couch, the TV on ESPN. Wes had wondered why Seth had stayed over, especially since his wedding was a few weeks away, and chalked it up to him drawing the short end of a straw. And last night he’d been able to think of what to do—to form a better relationship with his brothers, his dad. Of course it involved something men normally didn’t like to do. He had to talk.

Wes studied the beams. “When are you taking these down?”

“We can’t take the beams down yet,” Jake said as he took off his safety goggles. “They support the ceiling. If we remove them now, it’s not good.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” TJ said.

“I’m trying to figure out a way to enforce the ceiling. Getting rid of these beams is going to open the space up a lot more; it’ll also make the room look and feel bigger.”

Wes rubbed his chin, then he walked the length of the room, peering up at the layout. “If you installed beams from here”—he stopped by the opposite wall and pointed above, then headed back to them—“to here, you’d get what you needed.”

“Hmm.” Jake studied the beams and the path that had been marked. “That would work.”

A small concession. If he and Jake could talk about something without getting into a fight, that was significant progress. It wasn’t like Wes was ready to delve into the emotional stuff, but Jake looking at him like he was something other than the secret spawn of Satan was a start.

“Are you refinishing the floor?” Wes looked at the tiled floor, which looked like it had been installed in the 1970s. It was definitely in need of an update.

“Hardwood everywhere but the kitchen. Going to install tiling in the kitchen.”

“I want wood all over,” Seth said, then winced when he realized what had come out of his mouth. A dull flush of red colored his stark cheekbones.

“You want wood all over, huh?” TJ asked. “
Hard
wood? Or soft?”

“It’ll have to last a long time,” Jake added. “Don’t want that wood to go down.”

“You guys need to grow up.” Seth gave Jake and TJ a look. “Wes, let’s talk about the remodeling jobs we have going on right now. TJ’s heading up the new art gallery. Jake has most of the houses. I’ve got this place and the cottage. I’ve conned both of them into helping with the cottage. I want it done by end of summer.”

“Where are you living until then?” Wes asked.

“I’m at Jake’s place for now. After Liz and I return from our honeymoon, we’ll stay in her apartment until we can move.”

Wes studied the granite countertop. “What’s going to happen to this place when you’re done?”

“It’s going up for sale. Someone will buy it and probably turn it into a vacation home.”

“That could be nice.” Being a mile away from the beach was nothing to someone who desired a summer rental home. “It needs some good landscaping out front though.”

“My friend Liam is taking care of that,” Seth said. “He’s the best man at my wedding.”

“Decent guy,” TJ added. “We all play on a summer baseball league with him.”

“Maybe you could join. That way you could meet all our friends,” Seth offered.

There was a brief moment of silence. Wes couldn’t speak because he’d recognized what Seth was trying to do—and he was grateful for it.

“We’re a man down,” Seth explained. “Our catcher’s wife is expecting their first kid, and the wife is on bed rest.”

“Sounds like fun. The baseball, not the pregnancy.” Plus, it was baseball. Why wouldn’t he want to play his favorite sport? And it would give him a chance to hang with his brothers, not as an outsider, but as someone who was part of the team.

“Liam’s family also owns the Worth Hotel,” TJ said.

Wes turned to his youngest brother. “That huge yellow place that’s at least a city block long?”

Worth Hotel was well known in New Jersey, and Wes had heard rumors they were looking to expand. Being on the baseball team might also benefit Wes’ business. He could talk to Liam and help him branch out. First, however, he would need to check out Worth Hotel and see if it was ready to become a national chain like the Hilton, Ritz, and Kismet.

“The one and the same.” TJ dragged his fingers through his blond hair. “He doesn’t really like the fact he has money.”

“Those who have it don’t seem to care. And those who don’t want it,” Jake piped up.

“Jake the Philosophical has spoken,” TJ said.

“Better than your full name,” Seth joked.

“That’s right, TJ.” Jake laughed. “Or should we say—”

“Can’t help it that Mom liked me the best.” TJ shrugged. “Got the good looks of the family, too.”

“You certainly didn’t get the brains,” Jake quipped.

“Brains?” TJ snorted. “Whatever, Scarecrow.”

Jake colored slightly.

“Scarecrow?” Wes asked. Having been an only child his entire life, as his mom had never remarried, he found this whole interchange oddly fascinating.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Seth leaned forward. “Jake was the Scarecrow in
The Wizard of Oz
in college. It’s not like he had to act much to convince people he didn’t have a brain—”

Jake punched Seth in his arm, and Seth shrugged off the blow.

“This comes from the guy who
serenaded
his fiancée and then scaled her balcony to propose,” Jake said.

“Hey, it worked,” Seth pointed out. “Anyway, we all went up to see him and laughed our asses off. Especially when Jake did jazz hands.”

“You tape that?” Because Jake doing jazz hands had to be priceless.

“If we had, we would have showed it to you.”

Jake shook his head. “Dad, why don’t I show you what’s been done so far? You can see the lattices Seth wants to install. And then you can tell him how ugly they are.”

“Chicken,” Seth called out after them as Jake and their dad left the room. “While they’re up there, we’ll talk about what you’ll be doing.”

S
ome time later
, they stood outside on the porch. Seth was pointing to the windows, trying to convince the others that the lattice would work. But it was obvious no one was buying it.

As Seth told him about his upcoming wedding, Wes thought now was a good time as any to talk about Ginny. He had a fleeting twinge of guilt that gave him pause—he felt bad about lying to his family, but it was a means to an end. All was fair in avoiding any set-ups with dates he didn’t want to go on. Of course, he could just say no but he just didn’t want to deal with it. With that thought in mind, he leaned against the porch railing.

“I’ve started seeing Ginny Michaels.” Wes prepared himself for an onslaught of questions.

“She’s nice. It was horrible when she got shot.” Jake rubbed his unshaven square jaw and glanced at Seth, TJ, and their dad. “That was a bad day.”

“DePauls were always an odd bunch.” TJ sat down on the porch steps. “Never liked David much.”

“That’s because he always gave you speeding tickets when he was still a cop,” Jake pointed out. “When did you meet her?”

“A few weeks ago in Atlantic City. I was in town then for a meeting.” Probably safer to give it a longer amount of time. He’d have to make sure he told Ginny. “We hit it right off, and it was an added bonus to find out she lived here.”

“Are you bringing her to my wedding?”

Wes turned to Seth. “Since your bride-to-be is taken, I guess I’ll have to.”

Seth snorted. “You’ve never even met Liz.”

“Looks like he’s about to.” Jake pointed to a silver sedan pulling up in the drive. “TJ, why don’t you and I take Dad around back? That way Liz doesn’t rope us into dating one of her bridesmaids for the night.”

TJ leapt up from the porch steps. “Yes. Definitely.”

“Chickens!” Seth turned back to Wes. “Good thing you are dating Ginny, Liz has been looking for someone to make sure her best friend has a good time.”

“What’s wrong with her best friend?”

“Nothing, as far as I can tell.” Seth leaned against the porch rail as a tall, leggy blonde, dressed in a slim blue dress, got out of her car. “She’s a looker.”

“The best friend?”

Seth jabbed him in the arm. “No, you idiot. Liz.”

“Sure. If you like them tall, blonde, and beautiful.” But Wes liked them short, curvy, and brunette. Especially if the woman had a sassy mouth and got flustered when he kissed her.

Seth was already bounding the steps but stopped short of embracing the blonde. His brother was dirty while his fiancée didn’t have a hair out of place. They headed back to where Wes stood.

“Liz, this is my oldest brother, Wes Dalton. He’s staying here for the summer. Wes, my girl, Liz Sheldon.”

She extended a slim hand, and they shook briefly. “A pleasure. Single?”

“Taken.” Thank God for the ruse and for Ginny agreeing. His brother hadn’t been lying—if Liz knew that Wes was, in fact, single, then matchmaking would ensue. There had been a gleam in her eyes that disappeared when he’d told her he wasn’t single.

“Too bad.” Liz glanced over to Seth. “Don’t forget that we have dinner with my parents tonight. And don’t forget to pick up the rings.”

“I won’t.” Seth leaned in for a kiss, but Liz turned her face to the side so that his mouth landed on her cheek.

Although his brother wasn’t exactly clean, Wes still found the gesture on Liz’s part a little odd. Her stiff posture and how she seemed to hold back, along with Seth’s careful handling of Liz as if she were a fine piece of china, had Wes concerned.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Liz said, “it’s just I’ve got this cold, and I don’t want to pass it along to you.”

“Nothing bad?” Seth asked.

Wes was worrying too much. This didn’t mean Seth was headed on a path to heartbreak. And Liz’s voice did sound a little muffled, as if she was battling some type of sinus infection.

She sniffled. “No, it’s not serious.”

“I’m dirty anyway. And I’ve messed you up.” Seth pointed to her cheek. “You’ve got a spot right there.”

Liz pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her face. It only smudged the dirt more, so Seth took the tissue from her and cleaned her up.

“I love you, you know that?”

Liz gave Seth a small smile. “I know.”

See? Wes was just reading into things that didn’t exist.