“Okay, now or never.” Journey gave him a quick kiss and made her way to Anne Marie. He watched them hug, watched as Journey showed her ring finger and then they hugged again.
A hand landed on his shoulder and he snapped his head to the side, half expecting to see Beck there with a cocky smile and a snarky comment. It was the older Kinder instead, and though it made no sense, Tyler felt a sting of disappointment.
“Congratulations… again.” Harold said.
“Thank you.”
He joined Tyler in watching the ladies. “Anne Marie would be delighted if you’d let her help,” he said.
More like take over, but he welcomed it. Welcomed anything now that felt like having a real family. “I’ll leave it up to Journey, but you’ll get no complaints from me.”
Harold urged him to the hallway and Tyler followed, knowing exactly what he planned to discuss: his sister.
“Bad news?”
“No news, unfortunately. There’s nothing on the registry that would indicate she’s looking and the inquiry Jimmy posted hasn’t gotten any valid responses.”
“I guess I kind of expected as much.” He studied the floor, and scuffed his shoes along the hardwood before looking up.
Harold offered a sympathetic half smile. “We won’t stop. There are other ways to find out who she is and where she’s at.”
And uproot her life just as Dustin had done to his? No. He wouldn’t do that to her. Too much of his happiness had been cast aside on an illusion, wondering who he was, where he came from. When all along, he’d had the answers and they had nothing to do with his heritage.
“No. It’s okay. He did put my information up, right?”
“Yeah. If someone looks, they’ll find you.”
“Okay then. I’ll wait.”
He sighed, but there was a hint of pride in it. “Sometimes being patient is the bravest thing you can do.”
And sometimes being brave meant asking for the one thing you wanted most.
“Harold, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.” Mr. Kinder watched him. Expectant. Patient in his own way. He’d been a father to him. Doing all the things dads were supposed to do. He’d taught him how to drive. How to respect a girl, open doors, treat her right. Taught him to work hard and how to dig deeper when Tyler thought he had nothing left to give.
Another thing he’d taught him: to ask the hard questions. “When I turned eighteen, you offered your name to me.”
Harold’s eyes locked on his. “I did.”
Though Tyler’s heart beat against his rib cage, he didn’t pull his gaze away. “Is the offer still open?”
He went silent but only because Tyler knew he was trying to pull himself together. He blinked, then cleared his throat. “It very much is.” His gravelly voice cracked, healing a wound Tyler didn’t even know was still exposed.
He pushed a smile past the emotion. “Okay then. I’m going to change it.”
Harold pulled a card from his wallet. “Use my guy. He’ll take care of all the paperwork.” He always had a guy who could take care of things. It used to drive Tyler crazy. Now he accepted the card without a hint of resentment.
“Thank you.”
Harold looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead pulled Tyler in for an almost too tight hug. His dark blue suit wrinkled between them but he didn’t seem to care. “I love you, son.”
“I love you, too.”
Tyler held on as if the world depended on it, accepting that sometimes the checks and balances of life simply do not add up. Like how one perfect moment could permanently erase ten years of feeling completely lost.
Chapter 41
Journey whirled between conversations with dizzying delight. Everyone wanted to see her ring and ask her questions about the venue and how Ty proposed. It was all she’d dreamed of and more, because this ring came with no doubt. Ty had changed, once again. Not just back to the guy he’d been before he found the death certificate, but to an even better version. His smiles came quicker, his affection more natural.
An eager hand tugged at her waist and Journey welcomed Ty’s intrusion. She’d been cornered by Mrs. Bicling for nearly fifteen minutes now, and still hadn’t made her way to the buffet of food.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to steal away the bride-to-be,” he said, pulling as he spoke.
“Yes, of course.” The older lady grinned between her and Ty, her voice a rasp from too many years of smoking. “You two do make a fine couple.” She patted each of their cheeks. “So much in love.”
Ty responded with a kiss to Journey’s temple. “That we are, Mrs. Bicling. You have a good morning.”
Close by her side, Ty kept Journey moving through the crowd. She glanced longingly at the chafing dishes. “I thought you were taking me to eat.”
“In a minute.” He grinned, and her stomach tumbled at the naughtiness in it. He pushed her past the dining room entrance and down the hall so quickly, she could barely keep step with him.
“Ty, what is going on?” Her voice was a surprised giggle, but then again, everything made her want to laugh today.
Finally, he stopped near the old terrace and pulled hard against the door. The paned glass opened with a well-oiled arc and the atmosphere shifted. Not just the rush of fresh, warm air against the cooled interior. But in the way Ty held her.
The pressure at her waist turned soft, deliberate. He let the door fall closed behind them and the adoration in his eyes robbed her of breath. His fingers trailed down to her hips, drawing her close until she stood pressed against his hard weight. “I want to set a date. Right now.” His lips trailed a fire down the side of her cheek. “It feels too much like a dream. Like I’ll blink and wake up and you’re lost to me again.”
She placed a palm on his cheek. This was the other difference. For the first time in their relationship, he let her see all his vulnerability. “What happened in there?”
“They kept asking me when and I had no answer.” He drew back, his gaze a plea into hers. “I got so frustrated, I almost told them next week.”
Her heart faltered. “But you didn’t?”
“No… not yet.”
“Ty, you know my wanting to wait has nothing to do with the two of us.” They’d had this conversation before. The first time they sat down with the calendar and tried to find common ground. “I want our group to be whole first.” She thought of April’s continual detachment. “I want my best friend to be my best friend when I say, I do.”
He smoothed her hair. “Sweetheart, that may never happen.”
“But Sean interviewed with Coach Kent last week. If he came home, then maybe…”
“Maybe is what I mean. We can’t wait on them. We’ve lost too much time as it is.” He played with strands of her hair. “Besides have you even talked to Sean since the interview?”
“No. He hasn’t responded to any of my emails. But with last Saturday commemorating the wedding that never came to be, I imagine he’s trying to cope.”
“Or… he’s chosen not to come back.”
“But he loves her. I know he—”
Ty halted her with a kiss, his lips gentle at first, comforting. His fingers found the sensitive curve of her scalp, cradling her as he pressed her mouth open with his. His distraction was too effective. She fell into the embrace, forcing him to slam against the wall as she clutched at his shirt.
Frenzied excitement flooded around them, both giving into the dark pleasure of being so gloriously alone. He spun her around, trapped her between the wall and the hard plane of his chest.
“We should stop,” he moaned against her lips, not bothering to heed his own advice as he dove in once again. The kisses turned harder, longer and in between Ty whispered how it was their love story not anyone else’s.
The madness slowed, their propriety offering a sliver of sanity. Forearms pressed against the wall behind her, he laid his forehead gently against hers. “I’ll give you another two weeks, and after
that, I’m picking the time and place. And since we both know there is no way anything I choose will live up to the Hawthorne standards, you better beat me to it.”
“Okay, okay. You win.” She pushed at his chest affectionately, her breath still a little unsteady. “Nana would pitch a fit if my wedding was anything less than spectacular.” She remembered her grandmother’s reaction to the returned wedding ring and smiled. Journey had told her she must have dropped it on accident, so after a slew of thank yous and a nostalgic reciting of her Grandpa Ronnie’s proposal, they’d spent the next thirty minutes talking about Journey’s wedding preparations. She was still just a young stranger to her grandmother, but Journey had learned to take every day as a gift, even if it wasn’t the perfect scenario she wanted.
Ty pushed against the wall, giving them some distance in proximity only. “Good. Now, you need to feed me before I crumple into a pile on this concrete.” His tortured frown was truly pathetic… and adorable.
“Hey, I was all set to indulge in my favorite omelet. You’re the one who dragged me out here to manhandle me.”
“As I will graciously do for the rest of our lives.” He laced his fingers through hers and kissed the inside of her wrists. He attempted to tug her forward, but she remained planted, a flittering of unease forming in her stomach.
“Do you ever wish you hadn’t given Dustin your grandfather’s things?” She’d been blown away by his sacrifice, so overjoyed to have the ring back that the enormity of the gesture hadn’t sunk in until later.
“Do I have regrets? Yes.” His face turned somber. “I regret living in the past when I should have welcomed the present. I regret hurting the family I had, to search for one that didn’t exist. And I regret living in an abyss of loneliness when I was surrounded by people waiting to love me.”
Tears stung at her eyes as his thumb soothed over the tender surface of her knuckles.
“But no, I don’t regret watching Dustin leave and take with him all the lies I let myself believe. It freed me, Journey. Freed me to be the man I was always meant to be.”
She cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, a bubble of joy and excitement bursting through her tears. “February 10th. That gives me ten months to plan the wedding and still gives me plenty of time to prepare for the art show next year.”
His arms locked around her waist, his hand clutched together to keep her tight against him. “So you think. I plan to take advantage of every day we’re considered newlyweds.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose and the responding array of electricity almost made her forget about her growling stomach.
“Food, remember?”
He relented with a sigh. “Fine. We’ll eat and tell everyone to save the date.”
She snickered. “There’s cards for that.”
“Well, whatever.” He guided her back inside the building. “As long as you’re my wife on February 10th, I’ll be the happiest man in the world.”
Chapter 42
Thanks to Tyler, Caroline was stuck in a room crawling with people she hardly knew and one person she knew well enough to know he was doing everything he could to snub her. She’d expected more from Beckham.
She expected more from herself, and yet still her gaze drifted back to the edge of the dining room.
“Stella is Beck’s real estate agent.”
Caroline snapped her head toward the sound. She hadn’t even noticed that April had joined her at the empty table. “I’m sorry?”
“The eye candy on Beck’s arm.” She tapped her manicured nails lightly on her champagne glass and lifted her chin toward the beautiful woman standing near Beckham. “She’s only here as a statement.” Her eyes narrowed slightly and Caroline understood why she’d chosen to become an attorney. No doubt people underestimated her at first. April’s translucent skin, fine, ultra-elegant bone structure, and green eyes gave her a fragile appearance, yet her tongue could cut a person in half. “I’m telling you this because you look a little concerned.”
“I do? No, not at all.” Caroline refused to play this game again. The pursued becomes the pursuer. Not this time. “It’s just hard not to notice such a beautiful woman.”
“A beautiful barracuda is more like it,” April snarled into her glass and Caroline couldn’t help but chuckle. April winked and returned the smile.
They’d seemed to come to an understanding of sorts. Not necessarily a friendship, but maybe a hint of mutual respect. With a woman like April, that alone felt monumental.
The seat moved next to her and Ty set his overflowing plate down on the tablecloth. “Sorry I abandoned you. Everyone keeps pulling me aside to congratulate me.” He sat down and scooted his chair forward. “They have no respect for a starving man.”
“Or a starving woman,” Journey added, taking the seat to his right.
“Did you expect anything less, allowing Anne Marie to make that kind of announcement at brunch?” April asked with a pretentious snort. It was amazing how she could do that. Be so forward and brash, yet never lose that air of innate femininity.
A man approached from behind April who had to be related to her somehow. They looked exactly alike. “Oh, I know what they expected. Gifts. Lots and lots of gifts,” he said.
April turned and Caroline noticed a glimmer of insecurity. That was the interesting thing about April. She was hard as stone but there were cracks.
Ty leaned over. “That’s April’s brother, Andrew.”
“Thanks,” she whispered back.
The two siblings exchanged words she couldn’t hear, but they must have been significant because April’s shoulders grew more and more tense as the conversation continued.
Then Andrew turned back to the others around the table, his sister watching him with confused irritation. “You know what I was just thinking about?” he said between bites. “That time when Beck and Sean snuck in here and replaced all the silver with paper products and the glasses with solo cups.”
Journey nearly spit out her food and had to clamp a hand around her mouth to keep from doing so. “Oh my gosh, that’s right!” She said when she’d recovered. “We were what, like ten?”
Ty straightened, his attention fully on Andrew. “I’ve never heard this story.”
“Oh, it’s a good one,” he said. “After they were caught, Beck’s dad made them stand in front of the whole room that next week and apologize. In suits, mind you.”
Caroline could picture the contrite, younger version of Beckham, standing with his head lowered. She felt her lips quirk up, until his voice dashed the moment and she remembered they were now engaged in some kind of unspoken battle.
“Who was in suits?” Beckham suddenly appeared at the end of their table, Stella right there beside him.
“You and Sean. After the great paper goods debacle,” Andrew said.
He grinned, but no dimples appeared. “Ah yes. My thwarted rebellion. Sean got off with a stiff warning from his parents, while Dad made me set the tables here for two weeks, just to give me a glimpse of what hard work feels like.”
“Well, it seems your father knows best.” His date pressed her hand to his chest. “Look how well you turned out.”
April tilted her head and made a gagging face that had Caroline ducking her chin, laughter sneaking past her lips.
Andrew stood and raised his glass “On that note, I propose another toast today.” For whatever reason, the entire table seemed to inhale and hold their breath, April the most stricken of all. “To the Bentwood Brats, all grown up and still impossible to handle.”
No one moved to join him. Not a single person.
Ty and Journey exchanged a concerned glance while Beck pulled in a labored breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs.
Andrew looked down at his fuming sister. “Come on, sis, aren’t you going to toast with me?”
“Stop it,” she hissed. “No one wants to do this.”
Ty nudged Caroline’s arm. “You’re one of us now.” He lifted his glass and if the saying
was true that looks could kill, April had just speared a hole through his chest.
Following his lead, Journey slowly picked up her glass, but everything in her expression showed guilt for doing so.
There was a story here. One Caroline was obviously missing. Her treacherous gaze snuck its way back to Beckham.
His cheeks were flushed red, his gaze steady on the glass in his hand. He’d shifted away from his date and his chest rose and fell in slow motion. Finally, he raised his hand and the sadness in his stormy brown eyes made her want to forget all the mean words and wrap him up in a hug tight enough to take away his pain.
Stop. She couldn’t go down that winding, dangerous road again.
Tearing her eyes away from the group, she studied the people milling about the room, her focus landing on one in particular. He stood off in the corner, a glass clutched in his hand. He watched the group at the table, waiting until their glasses touched before he tossed back his drink and strolled their way, each step deliberate and full of untapped strength.
She knew that face. That person. She’d seen him in almost every picture on April’s dining room wall.
Sean. No wonder April looked ready to murder.
He was a force of nature, much as he seemed to be in the pictures, but his presence was so much more consuming in person. Tall, huge really, with a build powerful enough to knock men over like bowling pins.
Caroline scrutinized his strut all the way until he reached their table and only then did she dare to look across from her.
April’s skin had turned ashen, the cool confidence she had down to a perfected science, now a look of stricken heartbreak.
Until I Knew Myself (Bentwood Book 1) Page 26
