Save the Date (28 page)

His dad hugged him closer. “Amen.” Marcus pulled a tissue from his desk and blew his red nose. “I better go check on your mother. You know how she gets around Uncle Bill.”

Alex followed his dad down the long hallway into the main living room. Unlike the outside of the grand house, the inside wasn’t formal. It was a family’s home. Under this roof, three children had grown up. It had been the central hub for friends. This very living room was where his mom and dad hosted a weekly Bible study. For all their wealth, his parents were just normal people who loved their Jesus, their life, and their kids. Family was everything. But now one of them was gone. The home would never be the same.

Alex greeted two of his cousins who also lived in Charleston. He knew more were on the way. There was already talk of a memorial service, and the very thought made him want to run his fist through the wall.

His sister stood among a small group of friends, her head pressed to the shoulder of that boyfriend his parents were always complaining about. Aside from the grunge band hair draped in his eyes, the kid looked okay. Alex was glad Finley had people to turn to.

Across the room, his mother talked with her youngest sister and her best friend Marcy, the woman who had been her college roommate. His mom’s eyes were swollen. He knew she’d held out hope, despite impossible odds, that Will had somehow survived. Now her heart was broken too.

A few more people trickled into the room, and he caught a flash of yellow-gold hair.

Lucy.

His lungs filled with his first deep breath as he took in the sight of her. Her wide eyes held that same compassion he’d seen her dole out to every one of her girls. There was a bronze button missing from her fitted jacket, and her pants were smudged with dust, but she still was a picture of grace.

He needed her.

Lucy said hello to a couple of people as she surveyed the room. Funny how they hadn’t been together long, but he knew exactly what she was thinking. They could fit two of her apartments into this room. She would be horribly uncomfortable. The woman had an allergy to the finer things. She was so good, so decent. So many things he was not.

Alex dug his hands into his pockets, unsure of what to do with a female for the first time in his life. The women he had dated had always needed something from him. Never the other way around.

Her eyes scanned the perimeter until they finally lit on him. Then Lucy, his PDA-hating Lucy, pushed past an oxygen-tank–wearing neighbor to run straight to him. It was a sack worthy of a Warriors jersey.

Her arms held fiercely as they wrapped around him. His hands moved of their own volition, pressing her close. He breathed in all that was Lucy—her friendship, her heart, her strength.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t speak. All he could do was hold her like she was his lifeline, as if he could absorb some of her comfort. Some of her faith.

When she finally pulled away, she held his face in her hands. “Tell me everything.”

He shrugged. Shook his head. “He’s gone.”

“I saw it on TV.” Her eyes glazed over with tears, and each one cut right through him. “I had your stupid phone and couldn’t call.”

And she had felt responsible. Because she was Lucy. And in her world people didn’t have two other phones and an entourage of people around them. “We got the word before the story hit. About five minutes after you left the retirement home.”

She pulled the phone out of her purse and handed it to him.

He took it and kept her hand in his. “I guess I won the bet after all.”

Her smile was wobbly. “What can I do?”

Just don’t stop being you
. “Nothing.”

“I prayed for you all the way here.”

“I know you did.” Then he kissed her. Because he was out of words, and he just wanted to feel—something. Anything besides the gripping despair.

Her body melted toward his, and her lips were a wispy touch. He didn’t kiss her with a raging fire, but simply pressed his mouth to hers in the most basic of invitations. She gave back with her gentleness, her soft fingers threading through his hair. He couldn’t close his eyes. Couldn’t stop watching her.

Because she was watching him.

“Alex?”

He took her hand, held it to his heart. “I’m glad you’re here.” The words sounded like they came from a bumbling sixteen-year-old. But death put life through a new lens—at least for tonight—and he needed her to know. There had been so many things he hadn’t said to his brother.

“My
Brides
magazine said I should support my fiancé.” She cupped his cheek in her hand, her eyes full of something he couldn’t quite read.

He had been about to speak with his grief-liberated tongue, but the phone in his pocket buzzed. Spared from saying something he’d probably later regret, he took the call. “Hey, David.” He ran his hand down Lucy’s arm. “Luce, I have to take this. Can you stay for a while?”

“I’m here,” she said. “For as long as you need me.”

Chapter Thirty

A
nd that’s why you can’t just buy any aloe vera ointment. Mine is only $29.99 and the only brand that comes with zarkspur, a rare fruit extract from the floor of the South African rain forests.”

Uncle Bill had Lucy cornered on the terrace as he finally wound up his sales pitch. She was about ready to hand over her wallet just to shut him up.

“And if you buy it tonight, I’ll throw in a small tube of my special diaper ointment.”

“I don’t have children.”

“Me neither.” He scratched his large, bulbous nose. “But I’ve still found uses for it.”

Behind them the patio door slid open. Alex. This damsel in distress was about to be saved. She and her checkbook were going to survive after all.

“I like cash, but I recently got acquainted with that PayPal thing and—”

“Uncle Bill, I think Finley wants to talk to you,” Alex said, his eyes not straying from Lucy. “She was counting her birthday money.”

Uncle Bill was gone before Lucy could say nice to meet you.

“You just threw your sister under the bus.”

He traced the curve of a curl near her cheek. “Finley’s antics have my dad on high blood pressure medicine. She can handle Uncle Bill.”

Lucy could hardly form a coherent thought when he looked at her that way. Grief did strange things to a man. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days.” His face was taut with worry and fatigue, and she just wanted to erase it all until he wore that cocky grin. “Let’s talk about something besides bombs, funerals, and what Uncle Bill really does with that aloe stuff. Like why I see rainbows peeking out through a hole in your pants.”

Lucy closed her eyes and sighed. “I just can’t win.”

He stole another glance. “They look like winners to me.”

“Not that it compares, but it’s been a wild day.” She filled him in on Marinell. “And I caught my pants on the window.”

Alex dropped his head and contemplated the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to Lucy. “You’re telling me that you broke into a condemned house today?”

“I think ‘broke’ in is a really strong description. More like took a little tour,” she said. “There weren’t any photographers around. I checked.”

“I don’t care about that.” His voice was a low growl. “What I care about is my
fiancée
being in a building that isn’t safe for human habitation. Where a ceiling could fall in and crush you or a crazed vagrant could decide you’re in his way. Do you want me to go on?”

“I think we’re good.”

“And where were Lou and Squid?”

“I might’ve talked one of the Saving Grace girls into providing a little distraction so we could get away.” The bodyguards had arrived by the time Lucy had crawled back out of the window. And they hadn’t been wearing smiles.

“Was it too much to call someone for help? If Marinell’s mom was missing, why didn’t you call the police?”

Lucy turned and contemplated the somber gray evening sky.

“All I got inside is more of Uncle Bill and his magic rash cream,” Alex said from behind her. “I can stand here all day and wait this out.”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ll try to follow along.”

“Esther Hernandez kind of has to lie low. Her husband has some people looking for him.”

“Like who?”

“Drug lords.”

Alex stepped away from Lucy as if he didn’t trust himself not to strangle her. It was not the encouragement she needed to tell all the parts of the tale she had previously left out, but she continued, watching Alex’s anger notch with every detail.

“So Esther has been trying to keep the family together all by herself, never knowing if her husband is safe. Or even alive. When she gave up the kids, it was so Carlos could get the care he needed. And she can’t work
and
sit by his bedside, so . . . she’s homeless.”

“And potentially in danger.”

“Right.”

“And you feel responsible.”

Lucy walked to the edge of the balcony, resting her hands on the rail. She didn’t expect him to understand. “The point is Marinell feels responsible, and she’s been taking care of them all. I had to do something, Alex. She’s too young to be carrying the world on her shoulders. She should be enjoying her summer, focusing on school, hanging out with her friends.”

“Is that what your life was like at Marinell’s age?”

Strong hands slid up her back and settled on her shoulders. Unable to stop herself, Lucy leaned into him, staring across the manicured backyard. This was where Alex had grown up. It was so far removed from the one-bedroom apartment she and her mom had shared.

“I don’t know how to help them,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Hernandez can’t stay at Saving Grace more than a few days.”

“We’ll find her something.”

Lucy turned in his arms to face him. “Really?”

He swept his thumb across the delicate skin over her cheekbone. “If you promise to let go of that guilt that’s keeping you awake at night.”

“I don’t feel guilty, I just—”

“Yes, you do. You watch over those girls like a den mother, and then you’re eaten up with guilt when something happens and you can’t fix it.”

“Like with a fake engagement? Is that what you mean?” Lucy was too keyed up to back down. “As long as we’re on the subject, what about your guilt,
Playboy
?”

“Is this about that article in
OK!
magazine last week? Because I don’t care what David Beckham says, I did not take Posh to dinner—”

“Somehow you’ve worked it out in your arrogant head that you’re responsible for your brother’s death—or I should say, the fact that you’re still alive.”

He jerked his gaze away from her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I could smell dysfunction on you within ten minutes of our first date.”

Warm air breezed over them as Alex rubbed his hands over his face. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“We’re not talking football here.” She ran her finger across the scar over his eyebrow, then down his cheek. “I’ll try to follow along.”

Alex shoved away from the rail and began to pace the concrete floor in front of her. It was a full minute before he stopped. With eyes looking over her head into absolutely nothing, he began to talk. “Will was the good one. The saint. He had so much going for him. He was a godly guy. I mean, he lived it. Somebody who worked his butt off to make a difference . . . to bless others. He just gave off this energy that made you feel better about the world.”

“So he was very charismatic—like you.”

“He built schools and did exposés on child slavery.” His laugh was hollow. “I played football, Lucy. My life has been so plastic, such a cartoon.”

“That’s not true.”

His forehead wrinkled in a deep frown. “I was so into myself, I couldn’t even make time to see him before he left that last day. It was just another one of his trips overseas. My last chance to see him, and I told him no.”

“You had a career too.”

“He said, ‘One of these days life is going to catch up with you. And it’s going to be too late.’” The wind tossed Alex’s hair as he tipped his clenched jaw toward the sky. “And now it
is
too late.”

Lucy slipped behind him, circled his waist with her arms, and pressed her cheek to his back. “You loved him. He knew that.”

“I put it all aside—my family, my faith, even my own identity. I was too wrapped up in being a football star.”

“Is that what this run for Congress is about? To be something—for him?”

“Maybe.” Bitterness looked back at her as he turned. “At first. But I want it, Lucy. I want to make a difference and not waste any more time.”

“Your brother is gone.” Her voice caught. “But your family is still here. And they would die if they knew how you were punishing yourself.”

He said nothing.

“The good Sinclair brother didn’t die. Your parents raised two extraordinary men, and I’m staring at one of them.” He tried to step away, but she wouldn’t let him. “Will knew you loved him. Forgive yourself and quit listening to that bitter voice in your head. There’s a family in there who wants you back.”

The branch of a nearby magnolia tree bounced as a bird landed, then called into the sky. The tree had weathered decades of coastal storms and still stood, beautiful and proud. Lucy hoped the man she was holding in her arms now would be just as resilient. She wondered if she’d be with him when his healing came.

“We better get back in and mingle with the family.” He gave a weary sigh as he turned and folded her in his strong embrace. “Unless you wanted to go fool around in the guesthouse?”

She smiled against his shirt. “No, thanks.”

“I’m a grieving man, Lucy.”

And one who was becoming a little too irresistible. “Then you’re going to be even more upset when I tell you I ordered two cases of Uncle Bill’s organic goo.”

“Sounds like you have a problem.”

She gave him a quick peck on the chin. “I put the order in your name.”

Chapter Thirty-one

W
hoever called shopping
retail therapy
had never gone to the mall with a former first lady.

“I missed my mid-morning tea.” Clare handed Julian her purse to hold. “And the noise in here is absolutely deafening. Isn’t there anywhere in the world a person can go to get a little peace and quiet?”