The stunning landscape in all its harsh ruggedness framed the house perfectly. Neil’s place up here in Scotland was quite the countryman’s establishment. I stood under a flowering tree and lit up a clove. My resolve to work on getting into some kind of treatment for my issues had helped with the anxiety of flashback dreams thanks to Brynne, and only her. As far as doing a thing to help me cut back on the coffin-nails? Not so much. One step at a time I told myself as I sucked it down.
I stubbed out my ciggie and looked for someplace to get rid of the butt. I didn’t want to put it in my pocket, which seemed a bit crude considering the occasion, but I might have to.
“Ethan?”
I turned around to find someone I never thought I’d ever see again. My heart dropped like a stone, and then bounced along the pavers, propelled by a momentum that seemed to have no f**king end. My past come for its due notice, I suppose.
“Sarah…” My voice cracked out her name as I took her in, right before me after so long. She was just as beautiful as ever; didn’t look like she’d aged a bit. The smile she gave me did things to my heart I didn’t want to face up to again. Don’t f**king smile at me, Sarah. I don’t deserve it.
When her arms came out to embrace me, I closed my eyes, terrified of what I’d feel—and also, the irony of fate, that only now, put her back into my path again.
“ARE you all right?” Brynne asked softly, her eyes looking up at me with concern.
Not really. “Yeah. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged and moved her fork around her dinner plate, doing a good job of not eating. “You seemed preoccupied during the ceremony, and now even,” she said glumly.
Pull it together. “No, baby.” I put my hand around her neck and pulled her under my chin for a kiss to the top of her head. “Still have the headache?”
She nodded against my jaw. I rubbed the back of the top of her neck, massaging deeply on the pressure points.
“Mmmmm, that really helps,” she moaned, straightening her neck into my hand so I could work out the kinks.
“Good. I want you taking it easy at the—”
“Ethan, you haven’t introduced me to your new bride,” Sarah interrupted us from behind, her pleasant expression merely a mask for propriety’s sake.
Fuck.
AAAAAND it begins.
So, Sarah was going for martyrdom today. Just throwing herself down on the track before a speeding train. I tried to wrap my head around her motives, but it wasn’t working. She wished to meet Brynne…my wife? She wanted to know all about our posh wedding and honeymoon? She enjoyed hearing about the baby, and found it amusing we weren’t going to know in advance if we were getting a boy or a girl? She needed to congratulate me on my good fortune with Blackstone Security?
Why? How could she bear to do any of it? I surely couldn’t. I needed to get the f**k out.
But there was no place to hide here, except for the bottom of a pint. Or four. Best thing I could figure to do given the situation.
A former soldier’s wedding with my pregnant bride beside me…
Getting pissed might possibly dull the edge enough I could pull off the nice-and-happy required for a marriage celebration. Or maybe not.
Rather a blessing that Brynne wasn’t feeling much in the party mood actually. This way she might not notice just how f**ked in the head her husband was.
I thought I’d handled Sarah’s surprise visit fairly well, given I had absolutely no time to process, before I was expected to go stand up for my friend in front of a crowd of people. And with Brynne right there, glowing with new life and enjoying the moment. No f**kin’ fair.
Don’t say that. None of this is fair. Not for Sarah. And certainly not for Mike.
I’d been too distracted during the ceremony to pay much attention to what Brynne might be noticing. My girl could read me so well. She did not need this worry added to her plate, in addition to feeling ill already. I couldn’t allow it.
I’d thought I might somehow make it through the evening, until Sarah caught me as I was getting fresh, iced water for Brynne. She came to tell me she had to leave…with tears in her eyes. She said she hoped she could have stayed for Neil’s sake, but once she arrived and saw us both, it was just too hard. Too much. Too painful. So she must go.
And I started drinking.
“HOW’S your headache?” Gaby asked.
“Unfortunately for my head, still with me,” I answered wryly. “One of the not-so-nice parts of pregnancy, and the fact I can’t take anything for it, sucks big time.” I lifted the iced water and pressed the side of the glass to my forehead.
“Well, you look beautiful if that helps,” she said, picking at the skirt of her chiffon bridesmaid dress, “and you’ve got a pretty new dress to add to your collection of pretty dresses.” She shrugged. “I’m getting quite an assortment.” Elaina had asked both of us to be in her wedding, which landed Gaby her second stint as a bridesmaid in just seven short weeks. First my wedding, and now Elaina’s—she must be drowning in a sea of lovey-dovey, praying for a rescue.