“No problem, I’ve been having to do this all week with family.”
Mark shakes his head, letting out a sigh. “I want it to be on record that I think this is stupid.”
“Yes, yes,” I say with a groan. “Everyone does.”
Oliver speaks up in my defense. “I thought it was stupid too until I met her father. I see it now, why Maren would want to do this for him. He’s a great guy, and his time is fading away. I think this whole thing has given him peace.”
Tears well in my eyes, and I step to him, needing to hug him, thank him, hold him because he’s done something I can never repay. “You understand it?” I ask.
“I do.”
“Hey, that’s what you say tomorrow,” Mark cuts in.
“Yeah, we’ll save it for the vows tomorrow.”
Oliver pulls me to his side and kisses my temple. “Tomorrow.”
Thirteen
OLIVER
“So, today is the big day,” Grayson says with a grin.
“Shut up.”
“You’re really going to do this?”
I shake my head because, at this point, what else is there to say? Yes, I’m doing this. Why? Because I’m an idiot. Am I sure? No, I’m not fucking sure, but I said I would, so I’m going to. Over and over, my siblings have pestered me, asking the same shit. Except for Stella. No, my beautiful sister hasn’t asked me anything, she just walked over to me, kissed my cheek, and then patted it.
I swear she does stuff like that just to drive me crazy.
“You know, I wish I could say I wouldn’t,” Gray muses as he kicks his heels onto the ottoman. “I think that, as much as we claim we would walk away, none of us would. Women are smart creatures.”
I turn away, hoping it will stop him from talking, but of course, it doesn’t.
“They know how to appeal to our hero complexes, and Lord knows you have the biggest one of all of us.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, pouring myself another glass of whiskey. At least whiskey doesn’t talk, it just makes me feel good.
“You were always the first one to run to help Stella—or any girl, really. If they were hurt, you wanted to soothe them. If they cried, you dried their eyes. If they needed something, you’d find a way.”
“You’re making me sound like a pussy,” I muse and then toss the drink back.
“You are that, but . . .”
I turn, huffing loudly. “Are you here to help or piss me off?”
“Which am I doing?”
“Take a guess.”
Gray laughs. “Ease up, Ollie. I’m just saying that you’re a good guy.”
“No,” I say, stopping whatever else he might be thinking. “I’m no better than Dad.”
Grayson, the annoying dickhead he is, shakes his head. “You are not Dad.”
“I’m fucking lying to everyone. I’m going to pretend to marry someone.”
“For a good cause.”
“And I am sure he thought all his lies were for a good reason.”
Grayson tilts his head. “You really think that? You really think he gave a single fuck about anyone other than himself? I promise you, he didn’t. He didn’t protect us with his lies. He lied because he was too selfish to admit he was cheating on Mom. What is your gain in this? What do you get out of helping Maren? Where is your prize?”
I turn around again, going back to the bar area to pour another drink. I’m going to be wasted if I keep this up, but I can’t seem to calm myself. My brother might be right that there’s no real gain for me, but I’m still lying. Regardless of what I said to Maren, it feels a little different today.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“And what about Maren’s prize? All she gains is making a dying man happy. She doesn’t get anything personal from it.”
“So, lying is fine as long as you don’t get anything out of it?”
Grayson runs his hands through his hair. “No, but if I were dying, and Melia was alone in the world, I would want to know that she was going to be okay. What she’s giving Pat is a gift, and if you don’t see that, then . . . I don’t know.”
I laugh because that was the same shit I told Maren yesterday.
I sit in the chair opposite of him, my drink in my hand, and I close my eyes. There’s a sharp pain in my abdomen, and I take my punishment. “I really wish I knew how to say no.”
Grayson leans forward. “Well, you don’t, so best not to dwell on it because you and I both know you aren’t going to call this off.”
He’s right. No matter how bad of an idea I think this is, I won’t let her down. Why won’t I let her down? Why do I care so much?
Is it because I like kissing her? Is it because, last night, I dreamed that all this was real? That I was watching the woman I love walk to me, ready to say the words I hoped someone would say. That’s ridiculous.
I like her. I want her, but I don’t love her.
I barely know her.
Yet, this morning, I wanted to call her and hear her voice. I wanted to curl up on the couch with her so we could talk about how we feel about what’s about to go down.
Jesus. I need to get it together.
“I need to be alone,” I tell my brother.
He sighs and gets up. I watch him walk to the bar area and grab the bottles. “I’ll leave, but you need to stop drinking and get out of your head.”
“Asshole.”
Grayson leaves, and I’m alone without booze or anything else but my thoughts. Before I can go down the rabbit hole of doom, someone knocks.
“Hi, Uncle Oliver,” Amelia and Kinsley say when I open the door.
“Hi, girls.”
“Are you excited?” Kinsley asks.
“Sure am.”
These two have no idea this is all fake. Well, maybe Kinsley does. She’s smart and devious like her mother.
“We came to keep you company while you wait to get married!” Amelia says with a huge grin. She rushes forward, wrapping her arms around my legs. “I’m so happy.”
I’m glad someone is.
I’m not sure how much of these kids I can handle. “I don’t think you guys need to stay.”
My stomach roils, and I think I’m going to be sick. Maybe that last glass of whiskey wasn’t such a great idea.
“But we have to,” Amelia says as she releases me. “Daddy said we have to make you smile, and I always make you smile.”
“You do,” I tell her with sincerity. “But I am tired and just want to rest.”
Kinsley clears her throat. “We were told we had to stay.”
“In case I plan to run?”
She shrugs. “Unfortunately, you’re considered a flight risk.”
“You’re too much like your mother,” I say as I get a flashback of my sister at her age.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She would.
The girls settle in, going on and on. Amelia talks a mile a minute, telling me about the new dance teacher she has and how much fun the class is now. “But I don’t like putting my hair in a tight bun,” she says.