Don't Tell the Wedding Planner (15 page)

“Not me,” Tommy said. “The guilt.”

The word slammed into Matt, leaving him gut-punched and short of breath. His ribs squeezing his heart so hard Matt was sure the pressure would crush him.

What is with you and this martyr complex?

Jesus, he’d told Callie to fully let go of the past, and here he was clinging to his. But Tommy didn’t know about the thoughts he’d had...

Matt let out a self-deprecating scoff, wishing Callie was here with him with that playful spark in her eyes and her honey-tinted drawl. And the kind of nonjudgmental understanding that let a person share even the worst truths about themselves without fear.

Because how could he share that brutal news with his kid brother? He opted for the easier explanation instead.

Matt left the tool bench and headed for the stairs leading to the kitchen, dropping down to sit on the bottom step. “I should have been around more in the beginning.”

“You had a medical degree you were trying to earn.” Tommy took a seat beside Matt.

“But Mom and Dad were gone, and we were alone.”

And God knows wading through the days, trying to figure out how to deal with Tommy and be an adult all at the same time hadn’t been easy.

They sat there, side by side, and Matt tried to push the memories of the first time he’d found Tommy passed out on the floor. Of a Tommy so gaunt, so thin, his color so unhealthy that it physically hurt to look at him. Sure, Matt had been checking in by phone. But only so much information can be gleaned from the sound of a voice.

He couldn’t remember the precise moment he began to have his suspicions something was off. The little niggles of doubt had always been easily rationalized away.

He’s having an off week.

He’s stressed.

He’s just not hungry today.

Of getting the call he’d wrecked his car again, and this time not being sure Tommy was going to pull through. Perhaps the time had come to explain to Tommy exactly how much Matt didn’t deserve his kid brother’s devotion.

Matt stared straight ahead. He couldn’t meet Tommy’s eyes, not with what he was about to say.

“The third time you walked out of rehab and waded back into that mess it took everything in me not to leave.” Matt closed his eyes as he remembered the turbulent thoughts from that day. Angry. Petrified. And knowing he just couldn’t live this life anymore.

Tommy remained quiet beside him while silence engulfed the garage. Matt couldn’t bring himself to look at his brother. The confession was hard enough to express without those wide, brown eyes staring at him. He felt like crap for sharing the thoughts with his brother. If they’d just been a fleeting thought Matt wouldn’t feel so guilty. But since that day, every morning he’d woken up with the same thought.

Leave.

Get out of town.

Save yourself.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, exhausted from the mental war being waged in his head. And so friggin’ sick of living his life in limbo he didn’t know what to do. With every one of those thoughts came the opposing thought. Tommy was all the family Matt had. Walking away felt impossible, even during those times Matt was sure he was drowning.

“God, you have no idea just how badly I wanted to pack up and get the hell out of Dodge. Go to the farthest city that I could.” He turned to meet his brother’s gaze. “Because I just couldn’t bear the torture of waiting around for you to finally kill yourself. Watching you waste away into someone I didn’t recognize anymore.”

Always braced for the next slip. The next call from the E.R. The next night Tommy didn’t come home and Matt was sure that he’d overdosed, unconscious.

Or dead.

“I just couldn’t stand to have my heart broken again,” Matt said.

Tommy’s voice sounded raw. “But you didn’t go.”

Matt’s lips twisted at the words. They might as well be inscribed on his tombstone.

“But it’s time,” Tommy said. “You’ve got to get on with your life and stop worrying about your kid brother. Go back to Callie, Matt.” Tommy’s brown gaze held Matt’s hostage, and then his brother grinned. “Before you become a grumpy old man no one wants to be around anymore. Cuz, you know, you’re already halfway there.”

Matt slowly sucked in a breath. He’d told Callie to get over the guilt, maybe it was time he followed his own advice.

He let out a scoff. “Is this my kid brother giving me advice?”

“This is your kid brother showing you some tough love, dude, because it’s my turn. You need to leave. I need you to leave.” Tommy crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing. “How can I ever be sure I’ve made it on my own if you’re always around to help me out? I’ve kicked the ugly addiction. Every day I’m concentrating on staying clean. I know you’ve tried to ease my way in the world by smoothing out the bumps along the way. Now it’s time for me to handle life on my own.”

Matt’s chest shook with the force of the pounding beneath his ribs.

“Go back to New Orleans. Take a job there. You can visit whenever you like. This will always be your home, too.” Tommy stood up, looking down at Matt. “But you belong with Callie.”

Tommy climbed the last two steps and entered the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Matt stared at the door, his brother’s parting words echoing in his brain.

ELEVEN

The waltz
started, and the bride and groom headed for the center of the room, the ballroom of the Riverway plantation transformed into an eighteenth-century ball. Callie watched, holding her breath as the bridal party joined in. They’d only had two days to rehearse the dance, and certainly no time to practice in their Regency-era wedding outfits.

With the bride’s dark hair upswept and adorned with baby’s breath, curls pinned to her head, imagining her as Elizabeth Bennet required very little stretch of the imagination. The groom, however, wasn’t quite tall enough to pull off a convincing Fitzwilliam Darcy. But the man wore the cravat and waistcoat with pride.

Callie was enjoying the results of her hard work when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“So, will there be zombies invading this reception?”

Callie whirled and came face-to-face with Matt, and the sight sent Callie’s senses soaring. In a waistcoat, white linen cravat and pantaloons, he looked unusually formal yet still good enough to eat.

“Could be a fitting end, don’t you think?” he finished with an easy smile.

Callie tried to reply, her mouth parting, but no words formed.

Was he here to convince her to reconsider a long-distance relationship? Or was he here to tell her he’d changed his mind and that he was ready to let his little brother go? Maybe he was finally ready to move on from a life that including the two brothers living in a constant state of protector and the protected. Callie knew the situation had been necessary during the beginnings of Tommy’s recovery days—the by-product being two men who didn’t know how to simply be brothers, instead of recovering addict and responsible older brother.

Callie fisted her hand behind her back, resisting the urge to grip the lapel of Matt’s coat and haul him closer. She longed to ask him the questions swirling in her brain, questions like
Why are you here?
or
Have you changed your mind?

Or more important:
Do you love me as much as I love you?

“No,” she said. “No zombies.”

“That’s too bad,” he said.

“Depends on who you ask.”

Not the conversation she’d have predicted would take place upon seeing Matt again. Not only did she not know where to start, she was almost afraid to find out the answers. If he was here to convince her to change her mind and accept less, she just might cave.

And even as her head was telling her to be strong, her heart was breaking a little more.

“Walk with me a moment?” he asked.

Pulse picking up its pace, she said, “Sure.”

Callie followed Matt out the French doors and onto the veranda, trying to convince herself to stay true to her goals.

But the past few weeks had only gotten harder, not easier, and she wasn’t entirely sure she had the strength to resist a part-time relationship offer again. Not when every morning started with her missing Matt, his laugh and his dry sense of humor. And every evening ending up with her staring up at the ceiling of her room, dreaming of having him back in her bed. In her life.

But all that seemed too much to ask after two weeks of no contact.

“How did you pull off the outfit?” she asked instead.

He turned and leaned against the wrought-iron railing, the branches of the oak tree beyond lit by the light from the ballroom.

“I phoned Colin and spoke with Jamie,” Matt said. “Turns out your ex’s wife was very eager to help me arrange a romantic meet up with you. She insisted this would be an opportune moment. Even phoned the bride and groom to ensure I’d be welcome.”

A small laugh escaped Callie. “That explains the looks they were giving me at the rehearsal dinner last night.”

Matt grinned. “Beware the romantic musings of those who are about to get married. Unfortunately—” he looked down at his clothes “—everyone thought it best I blend in.”

“Why are you here, other than to make the most delicious Fitzwilliam Darcy ever?”

She probably shouldn’t have added in the last part. She should be playing it cool. She should be holding her feelings closer to her chest. But she couldn’t.

“I came tonight hoping to make an impression,” he said.

Afraid to breathe, Callie asked, “What kind of impression?”

Matt stepped closer, instantly swamping her senses. The warm breeze ruffled his sandy hair and held a hint of magnolias, but all Callie could register was Matt’s scent of fresh citrusy soap. The heat from his body. The sizzle in those hazel eyes.

His eyes never left hers. “‘I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.’”

Two seconds passed before the words fully registered in her brain.

Stunned, Callie reached out and gripped the sleeve of Matt’s waist coat. “You read
Pride and Prejudice?
”

A slow smile crept up his face.

“How else is a man supposed to impress a woman who arranges fantasy weddings for a living?” he asked. “Quoting Darcy seemed like a good place to start.”

Too afraid to hope, Callie remained silent, her grip on his sleeve growing tight.

“I just got started on the paperwork to obtain privileges at St. Matthews Hospital,” Matt went on. “Turns out they have a need for a few more E.R. docs.”

Heart hammering, she had to ask, “For locums work?”

“Nope,” he said. “Full-time. Well, 80 percent time, anyway. Because that will leave me some room to do an occasional locums shift up in Manford.”

Afraid to burst the budding hope in her heart, Callie hiked an eyebrow, and Matt smiled.

“Only one week every three months or so. That will give me plenty of time to visit my brother and his wife.” His lips twitched, as if holding back a smile. “Especially now that I’m going to be an uncle.”

The last was delivered so nonchalantly that several seconds passed before the news registered.

Callie let out an embarrassing whoop and launched herself into Matt’s arms. He folded his arms around her, and she realized her feet were still dangling off the ground. But she didn’t care. She basked in the feel of his embrace and the ever-growing realization that finally,
finally,
Matt was in New Orleans for keeps. Matt appeared in no hurry to let her down. Callie had no desire to ever let him let her go.

She buried her face in his neck and inhaled, enjoying the smell of warm skin and the feel of Matt’s arms around her again. “What changed your mind?”

“Well,” he said, his voice rumbling though his chest to hers. “You said you wanted me here. Tommy wanted me here. And I wanted to be here. Ultimately not being here seemed kind of stupid.”

“I love your logic.”

“I figured you would.”

Matt set her back on her feet, but kept his arms wrapped firmly around her back, her chest pressed against his hard torso.

She looked up at him. “Did Tommy have to beat you off with a stick?”

“No.” Matt’s hazel eyes grew serious, and he gazed through the French doors at the couples now waltzing across the floor. “He used his own brand of tough love on me. And he agreed with your assessment. That I was good at the tough love while he was using, but I sucked after he’d quit.”

“Remind me to send Tommy a huge present every year on his birthday.”

“Yeah? Well, he told me he planned to send you a gift every month for getting me out of his hair. And it wasn’t only logic that brought me back.”

“No?”

“Yeah, there was also this little issue of me falling in love with you.”

Tears gathered the corners of her eyes, and she blinked, forcing them back. How would she maintain the professional demeanor with tears in her eyes? Matt swept a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers taking their time, and then cupped her face.

“I’m sorry it took me a while to get my head on straight,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make things so hard on you.”

She sniffed and sent him a watery smile. “‘You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.’”

“Ah,” Matt said, his lips twitching. “I love that line. And I admire Elizabeth Bennet and her practical approach to life.” He eyed the front of her dress. “But I have to confess, the clothing of her era leaves a lot to be desired. Though you look beautiful, this isn’t my favorite costume.”

“Yeah, the A-line style doesn’t exactly flatter the figure. Don’t worry,” she said, grinning up at Matt. “They aren’t as flat as they look in this dress.”

With a crooked smile, Matt leaned in and nuzzled her neck. “No worries,” he said. “I’m thinking that admiring your occasional kooky attire will keep me happily entertained for the rest of my life.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BEST MAN FOR THE JOB by Lucy King.