this evening he’d been reluctant to face them over a meal. What he knew he had to do now was going to be so much harder.
* * *
DINNER HAPPENED, though much later than originally planned, after Vance showered and changed into borrowed clothes. Preoccupied during the meal, he didn’t participate much in the conversation around him. Perhaps sensing his mood, the others at the table left him alone.
He stacked plates when it was over, but his mother shooed him out of the kitchen when he brought them to the dishwasher. “Go relax. Your aunt and I will take care of the dishes.”
“Sounds good, Mrs. Cleaver,” he said, managing to send her a little teasing grin. His mom didn’t usually stick to gender roles when it came to household tasks.
With a wave of her hand, she pretended to smack him with her dish towel, and his grin widened on its own. She’d cried some after the ambulances drove off, but she was back in control.
So it was time to seek out his father, he thought, sobering. His uncle and Fitz were playing pool in the billiards room, Layla looking on. William Smith stood by the French doors leading to the back terrace, his hands behind his back, staring into the night.
As Vance hesitated in the doorway, considering the best approach, he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He swung around, found himself looking into Blythe’s blue eyes.
“Can we talk a minute?” she asked.
With a nod, he followed her into the deserted living room. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he noted how nervous she looked. “Hey,” he said softly, guilt pinching because he’d been avoiding this talk. Stupid of him, when he was past the hurt. “It’s okay. It’s all right.”
A half smile eased Blythe’s tense expression. “I’m starting to think so, since you and your brother have made amends.”
Vance nodded again. “We did. We’re good.”
“I never meant to come between you and Fitz.”
“Understood,” Vance replied. And he meant it.
A silence welled. “I liked you,” she said suddenly, breaking it. “I liked you a lot.”
“I liked you, too.”
“So when you told me you were going overseas, going into danger...” Her fingers were clutched together at her slender waist. “It felt a little bit patriotic and a lot...a lot romantic to get engaged.”
He smiled this time. “You’re such a girl, Blythe.”
“I know, huh?” A blush crept up her face. “It’s embarrassing, what a dork I am.”
“No.” He laughed, realized how little he’d really known her. Elegant Blythe thought she had dorkish moments? Still waters indeed. “I shouldn’t have asked you to marry me when I was on my way back to combat. I should have realized the situation might compel you to say yes.”
Her head tilted. “So why did you ask me?”
“Truth?”
It was her turn to nod.
“To impress my parents. And, if I’m completely honest, because you are such the right woman for Fitz.”
Her eyes widened, and one hand flew up to cover her heart. “Really?”
He could see that his answer had, in some odd way, pleased her. “Really.”
“So, I don’t have to feel so terrible about being with him though I broke up with you?”
“Don’t feel terrible about that for another second,” he said. “Fitz is the right one for you, too.”
Wearing a bemused expression, she just stared at Vance. “He loves you, you know.”
“Yeah.” Vance smiled. “He also loves you.”
“Yeah.” Her smile was just as wide as his. “So...we’re okay now?”
“Not quite. I’ve still got a page or two of sorrys I need to express. Because face it, beautiful lady, without me you wouldn’t have met the chump—and now you’re stuck with him for life.”
She laughed. “Why don’t you save all that for the wedding toast? Something tells me you’re going to be tapped for best man.”
Grinning at the idea, he watched his brother’s fiancée walk off toward the kitchen. That had gone well, he thought. Really well. Then he turned back to the billiards room, hoping his next conversation would meet with the same level of success. William Smith hadn’t left his post by the French doors.
“Dad?” Vance said, and his father turned around. “Can I have a word?”
By tacit agreement, they stepped outside.
They paced in matching strides away from the house, stopping at the low wall surrounding the terrace. In front of them was the black hulk of the hill planted with the first of Vance’s grandfather’s avocados. In the warm darkness he could feel the trees growing, their roots spreading to lick at the well water