A Lowcountry Wedding (38 page)

“You knew that going into this.”

“I did. I guess I figured we’d work it out between us. Despite what you might still think, I’m not interested in Harper’s money.”

“I never thought you were.” She paused and looked at him, searching for an honest answer. “Will Harper marry you if you don’t sign?”

“Yeah.” His face softened. “She’s got her heart in the right place. Which is why I want to meet her halfway.”

Granny James liked what she heard and cocked her head. “I’m listening.”

“I called a friend of mine, a lawyer, and he said we could isolate specific things, like the James trust and the house—and leave out the rest. That way after we’re married, any money Harper makes and any money I make we pool together and make decisions just like any other normal married couple. And I get to keep my balls in the process. If your lawyers can whip up a prenuptial agreement that spells that out, I’ll sign it.”

Granny James resisted a smile at the boy’s cheeky choice of wording and pursed her lips. She brought to mind Harper’s earlier suggestion that she and Taylor move from Sea Breeze. “To be clear, you’ll agree to live in this house with Harper? Even though it’s in her name?”

“Yes.”

Granny James refrained from revealing her relief. She chewed the tip of her glasses. “What made you change your mind?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s simple. I love Harper. She loves Sea Breeze. I want her to be happy.”

Granny James slipped her sunglasses back on her head and rose with agonizing slowness to her feet. She keenly felt the
past hour she’d spent on her knees. “Very well, young man. I’ll call my lawyers and it shall be done as you’ve requested.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Taylor turned to leave.

“Taylor!” Granny James called after him.

He spun on his heel to face her.

“You are a remarkable young man. And Harper is a very fortunate young woman.”

His stern face at last eased into a begrudging smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She watched him turn again and walk with long strides back into the house before she broke into a wide grin of her own.

Atticus slept in boxers with the doors of his bedroom wide-open, leading to the porch. Beyond the doors the great blackness of the ocean sky blanketed him, the gentle breeze better than any fan and the gentle roar of the ocean a soothing white noise. He had to hand it to Dora for finding this place. He’d never slept so well before in his life.

But in the morning he paid the price of open curtains. The sun rose smack outside his window and, like any star performer, demanded he rise to his feet and appreciate her glory.

Atticus rose with the sun and gave humble thanks. Then he headed for the shower. A short while later he took a last slurp of his coffee, laced up his running shoes, grabbed his sunglasses and ball cap, then headed outdoors.

Stepping into the morning air, he felt the moisture of the ocean on his face. He stretched and slipped his cap on, back forward, and headed toward the shoreline. This early in the morning the sand was smooth and undisturbed by footfalls.
Shells and wrack littered the high-tide line, which formed a wavy dark line across the glistening, pristine beach. His spirits lifted as he caught his stride and he felt the truth in the old adage
the world was his oyster
.

He’d run nearly two miles and was approaching the southern tip of the island where Breach Inlet separated Isle of Palms from Sullivan’s Island. Up ahead he spotted two male runners heading his way. They were tall and fit, and behind them trotted two big dogs, one yellow, the other black as night. They made quite a sight, as testified by the two women in jogging attire who had stopped running and turned back to stare at them after they passed.

“Hey, bros!” he shouted, lifting his arms to greet Blake and Taylor as they approached.

“Atticus, my man,” Taylor called as he jogged to his side. They were both dressed in running shorts and T-shirts spotted with sweat. Taylor’s T-shirt was worn, torn, and had
USMC
in bold letters across his chest. “So,” he said with approval in his gaze, “the Rev runs.”

“Every day.” Atticus took deep, gulping breaths. These guys must’ve run all the way from Sea Breeze on Sullivan’s Island and were barely winded.

“You should join us,” Blake offered. Then he cracked a wicked grin. “If you can keep up.”

“Oh, I can keep up.” Atticus laughed, trying not to openly pant. He glanced over Taylor’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but your fans are coming,” he said in a low voice, nodding.

Taylor looked over his shoulder to see the two twentysomethings walking their way. The blonde, her luxuriant hair pulled back into a long ponytail that swished jauntily left to
right when she walked, seemed to be forcing the darker woman to accompany her. The blonde had her gaze set on Taylor. The other woman’s hair was black and her ebony skin glistened with a fine sweat from her run. Atticus remembered his mama telling him that ladies didn’t sweat, they glowed.

“Nice dogs,” the blonde said, lifting her arms to point out the two dogs frolicking in the surf, oblivious of their admirers. “Are they yours?”

“No, they just followed us,” Taylor replied.

“Really?” she answered, eyes wide. “Don’t they scare you? They’re so big.”

Atticus met Blake’s eyes, and it was all they could do not to laugh.

“No, I’m just messing with you,” Taylor said. “They’re our dogs.”

“They’re beautiful,” the black-haired woman said, eyes on the dogs. “It’s nice to see animals so fit.”

“Indeed it is,” the blonde echoed, and her double entendre didn’t escape anyone.

“The golden one is obviously a Lab, but the other? Is it a Great Dane mix? Maybe some Lab there, too?” the other woman pondered.

She knew her dogs, Atticus thought.

“Yeah, that he is,” Taylor said. “That’s Thor. He’s my dog.” At the sound of his name, Thor stopped and turned toward his master. “The other dog, Hobbs, is Blake’s.”

“I’m Ashley,” the blonde said, smiling with invitation, “and this is Vivian. Are you boys from around here? Your accent says you are.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Taylor, who was answering for the team. “We’re here to celebrate our weddings.”

“Oh.” Ashley’s disappointment was clear in her voice and on her face. “
Y’all
are getting married?” Her hand made an encircling gesture to include all three men.

“Everyone but the Rev here,” Blake said. He winked at Atticus, knowing he’d just opened the door for him. “He’s here to marry us. We keep it friendly.”

Atticus glanced at Vivian. She was a stunner, lean and intelligent looking with fine cheekbones that gave her dark eyes a lilt. “Are you here on vacation?” he asked her.

“I live here. I’m the local vet.”

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“We best be going,” Taylor said, jabbing Atticus in the ribs. “You coming?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Taylor nodded to the women in farewell. “Ladies.”

Blake turned toward the surf and gave a piercing whistle. In an instant, Hobbs and Thor were at their heels. They took off toward Atticus’s condo.

“I got to get myself a dog,” Atticus said, picking up the pace.

“That you do,” Taylor told him. “For lots of reasons.”

“Hey, my cousin’s Lab is having pups,” Blake offered. “Real pretty chocolates.”

“Not yet. I’m only renting the place.”

“I wouldn’t wait. Not with a vet like that on duty,” Blake said.

“I’ll just borrow Hobbs for a day. Rent a dog,” Atticus called back.

“You don’t want a puppy,” Taylor said. “Get a rescue. They’re so grateful.”

“Is that what Thor is?”

“He sure is. But he’s more than a rescue. He was trained for the Wounded Warrior program. I got him when I got back from Afghanistan.”

“You had PTSD?” Atticus asked.

“Yeah. I was in pretty bad shape.” Taylor looked at Atticus, and the pain was visible in Taylor’s pale green eyes. “Nuff to say that I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going. That guy back there”—Taylor pointed over his shoulder to Thor—“got me through it. I used to have these bad dreams. Real bad. I was back in the war. Reliving it. Ol’ Thor could tell when I was having a nightmare. He’d lick my hand, my face, wake me up. Got so I couldn’t sleep without the dog by my side.” Taylor glanced over his shoulder to check on his dog. Thor was trotting comfortably behind him in an even stride. “Best damn dog in the world.”

Atticus was well aware of the trauma of PTSD. He’d counseled several parishioners suffering from it, not as many servicemen as battered women, accident victims, and others who’d experienced the many traumas of life. “How are you doing now?”

“Good. Thanks.”

“You don’t have nightmares?”

“Nope, not in a long time. I was worried when Harper and I moved in together. You can imagine. I would’ve been okay with separate rooms, but she wouldn’t have it.” Taylor grinned, obviously thinking of his bride. “For such a mite of a thing, she’s got
a backbone of steel when it comes to me. She’s going to make the best mother.” Taylor’s love for Harper shone in his face.

Atticus wondered if they’d resolved the prenup issue. “What about her mother? Have you met her?”

“Georgiana?” He said the name as if it were a curse word, followed by a guttural grunt. “Shit, no. Don’t want to. That woman’s a piece of work. I’m glad she’s not coming to the wedding. Not sure I’d be able to be civil.”

They drew close to Atticus’s condo and he started to slow down. “This is my place.” Atticus pointed out the building. “Want some water? Coffee? That’s about all I have to offer.”

“Man, I’m starved,” Taylor said. “I need some real food. Let’s run back to Sullivan’s. We can eat in town, and they have water for the dogs. It’s civilized.”

“Aren’t we due at Sea Breeze at nine?” Blake asked.

“Look at him,” Taylor teased. “Tethered to the leash already.”

“Hey, you’re the marine. You understand taking orders,” Blake fired back.

Taylor laughed and held his palms up in surrender.

“I get my orders from higher up,” Atticus told them. “And that, gentlemen, is why I’m still single.” Grinning, he took off in a sprint in the direction of Sullivan’s Island. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Last man there pays the bill.”

Atticus paid the bill. Not because he’d come in last, which he did, but because he was happy to pay. Happy to be part of the brotherhood. He’d been missing his buddies in Atlanta. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his sisters, he needed
time with his boys. The banter, talk about sports, jokes, and just the general feeling of male camaraderie.

They ate breakfast sandwiches outdoors on the patio of Café Medley, their long legs stretched out under the small tables.

When their appetites were sated and conversation lagged, Blake rose to go. “I’ve got to bring Hobbs back home first, and then I’ve got a phone call coming in. Thanks for breakfast, Rev.”

Blake gave a whistle that had Hobbs scrambling to his feet. Atticus watched the handsome dog trot beside his master and thought to himself maybe he did need a dog after all.

Taylor rose from his chair. “Hold on, we’ll walk with you.”

“Yeah, notice he said
walk
, not run. My dogs are barking,” Atticus complained.

“We’ll come by for you again tomorrow. Keep in shape, man.” Blake checked his watch. “But I’ve literally got to run or I’ll miss my call. You know the way. See you there.” He took off at a trot.

Thor was already on his feet, erect, eyes glued to Taylor.

Atticus and Taylor walked at a comfortable pace past quaint shops in the lowcountry-style buildings, past the Sandpiper Gallery windows filled with local art, the park with the tennis courts, and the cherry-red fire station to where the neighborhood quieted to private homes hidden behind oaks, palms, and shrubs.

“You know Harper asked for a prenup,” Taylor said, turning his head to search Atticus’s face.

“Yeah, she told me.”

“It was a lot to swallow. I can’t lie. I talked to Granny James about it.”

Atticus hadn’t heard about this part. If he was a betting man, he’d bet on old Granny.

“She has her lawyers working on a prenup we can both live with.”

“Really?” Atticus was extraordinarily pleased. “That’s great, man.”