I scowl at Marcel. “My uncle seems to think he has an invitation to our wedding.”
Guilt darkens his features for a second.
“You didn’t.” I rest my hands on my hips.
“He—”
“Don’t you dare say ‘he’s family’ or ‘it’s business.’ Neither excuse is acceptable.”
“Charlotte,” he pleads.
“Don’t even try to use that ‘please be reasonable’ tone with me.”
“Charlotte,” he tries again, sterner this time.
“Fine, but he’s absolutely not walking me down the aisle.”
“Good.” He holds up his hands. “That’s all you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of doing the job myself.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Actually.” I bite my lip, not sure how he’ll feel about this. “I wanted to ask Rock if he’d consider walking me down the aisle.”
He steps closer, resting his hands at my waist. I lean into him. “Do you think that’d be okay?”
“I think it would be perfect.”
Carter taps on the kitchen door. I reach over to unlock it and let him in.
“Are we going up to the clubhouse?” he asks as he walks in.
“In a bit,” Marcel answers. “I’m making something for your sister. You hungry?”
Carter shrugs. “I could eat.”
I chuckle. Carter can always eat. I return to the table, taking a long sip of water.
Carter’s gaze narrows on me. “You seem off. Did everything go all right in court?”
My little brother is almost too perceptive sometimes. “Flawless.” I tap my phone. “I’m annoyed that Chuck asked who’s walking me down the aisle.”
“Definitely don’t let Chuck do it,” Carter says, limping toward the table.
I bite back the cry bubbling in my throat. He’s still limping and in pain, even if he won’t admit to the pain part.
“I’m fine. Stop looking at me like my goldfish died,” Carter grumbles.
“We’re moving the wedding date up,” Marcel says to smooth over the moment. “You’re still my number two, right?”
“You sure you want me up there, Teller?” Carter asks. “Won’t it look weird that I’m the only one not wearing one of your bad boy vests?”
Marcel hesitates for a second. “Don’t you finally want your shot with Mercy? You’ll walk her down the aisle.”
A sly grin spreads across Carter’s face. “I have more than I can handle, bro, but I appreciate the thought.”
“Don’t encourage him,” I say to Marcel.
A few minutes later he sets a perfectly golden grilled cheese in front of me.
“Oh my God.” I bite into the crispy, buttery, cheesy bit of heaven and close my eyes.
“You all right, Charlotte?” Carter asks. “Never seen you get so worked up over grilled cheese before.”
Marcel shoves a plate in front of Carter.
Carter tips his head back. “You’re such a good dad already.”
I freeze, mid-bite.
Marcel has a smooth answer prepared. “Took care of Heidi when she was little. So, I have experience.”
“I’ve heard. She talks about you like you’re freakin’ Thor.” He flicks his hand at Marcel. “Without the thunder and pesky sibling rivalry.”
Marcel slants a look my way and I shrug.
“Oh man,” Carter moans with a mouthful of grilled cheese. “This is good. I’m sorry I doubted.”
“The secret is the garlic seasoning on the bread.” Marcel sets a bowl of pickles and olives on the table with a soft clink. He sets a smaller bowl of baby dill pickles next to my plate.
I tip my head back and meet his amused eyes.
“You got any apples?” Carter slides out of his chair. “Char, you want apple slices?”
“Sure.”
Marcel directs him toward a bowl of fruit on the counter and hands him a knife.
Two of my favorite men, side by side in the kitchen. Uncle Chuck would roll his eyes so hard they’d fall out of his head. The thought makes me snicker as I bite into a crisp, tangy pickle.
“What’s funny, Sunshine?” Marcel asks, setting his own plate across from me and sitting. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at me. Like, he’s bursting to share our news right now.
I could be wrong, but I don’t think we’ll keep this secret for long.
At least this time, we’ll be hanging onto something joyful instead of painful.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Teller
Blake’s busy grilling a feast on the back deck of the jumbo house he built for my sister when we arrive.
I set down the two bags of wood chips I’d brought up, leaning them against the railing next to his Cadillac-sized combination grill and smoker. “Got my workout for the day, carrying those all the way out here.”
“Why didn’t you use one of the ATVs?” His gaze strays to Charlotte, talking to Heidi and Alexa in the yard below us. “I think Charlotte likes you. You don’t have to keep showing off to impress her.”
“Nah.” I grin and slap his shoulder. “A little tip for you, it’s always good to keep the magic alive.”
He chuckles and adjusts one of the knobs on the smoker.
“I feel shitty I didn’t bring you a present.” I stare at my empty hands and back to Blake’s face.
“You brought the wood chips I needed.” His eyebrows knit together. “You’re here. What else do I need?”
“I’m…” I hesitate and run my hand over the back of my neck. We’re past this, aren’t we? Blake doesn’t need my approval or my gratitude. Every action shows how much he loves my sister. “I’m proud of you. Not many men would step into the role of fathering someone else’s kid so selflessly and so completely.” Shit, Heidi’s own father couldn’t do it. The realization hits me hard, wiping my mind clean of anything else I had planned to say. “Thank you.”
His face pinches, hands clench and release at his sides. Several emotions seem to flow over him. Maybe I said too much. Overstepped, yet again.
“You know I don’t ever want to lie to her.” He stops and seems to search for the right words. “But I don’t want her to grow up feeling different.” He gestures toward Heidi. “Especially since we’re having another girl.”
My fucking eyes sting. Must be the smoke coming off the grill.
“I love Alexa like she’s my own,” he continues. “I hope that adopting her the second I was able to will make sure she never doubts herself. Or how I feel about her.”
No words. What can an uncle say to that?
“Holy shit, are you speechless?” he asks.
“Don’t ruin it,” I warn.
“Seriously, though. Don’t thank me for doing the only thing I know how to do. I hope over time people forget and don’t constantly bring it up around her, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying.” He wants to protect her from even the smallest emotional scars. “Love you, brother.” I reach for him, giving him a quick, tight hug.