Last Groom Standing

by Kimberly Lang

  She could feel her cheeks burning. Cassie’s detached clinicalism could be as bad as Gina’s bluntness.

  Tuck seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “I knew Dylan was seeing someone, I just didn’t know who.”

  “Why didn’t you ask him?” Cassie said.

  “Because we’re not girls,” he answered.

  Marnie didn’t know how to process that tidbit in light of her own new feelings, and she didn’t have time before Tuck turned back to her.

  “I never dreamed the woman in question was you, though. No wonder Gina has Cassie on reconnaissance.”

  She had to step carefully here. While Tuck may have dismissed Cassie’s question with the “we’re not girls” response, he was still Dylan’s best friend. “Gina is merely overreacting. Dylan and I are just friends.”

  “The kind with benefits,” Cassie added.

  “That was implied, Cas, but yes.” She turned back to Tuck. “I’m sorry you were dragged into this—”

  “Marnie,” Cassie interrupted, “if you’re Dylan’s current sexual partner, why is he with another woman?”

  Marnie turned her head so fast, her neck spasmed. Sure enough, there was a tall, beautiful and very buxom blonde resting her hand on Dylan’s arm in a rather proprietary manner. Dylan was talking to his parents and the woman was hanging rapturously on every word. “I have to assume they know each other.”

  Cassie looked at Tuck expectantly.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s Analise Wilson. They dated before he and Reese got together.”

  Irrational jealousy clawed her stomach. You don’t know what that’s about. And it’s not really your business anyway.

  Except that it sure felt like it was. “Oh.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” Tuck added. “They were over a long time ago.”

  “That doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Cassie grumbled.

  “I appreciate the loyalty, Cas, but it’s fine.” Dylan didn’t know how she felt about him or that she wanted to change the nature of their relationship. It made perfect sense that he’d be looking for another woman at the same time. She was not going to overreact like some kind of jealous shrew from a made-for-TV movie. “Remember that Dylan and I are just friends.”

  Cassie looked like she was going to argue.

  “Tuck, can you explain it to her? It’s about time for the silent auction, and I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  As the Foundation’s director, Julia handled the announcements, and all Marnie had to do was stand there, smile, and hand out the occasional item. Dylan, his family, and Analise Wilson were seated directly in front of the podium—with Analise almost in Dylan’s lap.

  Not jealous. I’m not.

  Then Dylan caught her eye and rolled his.

  She bit back a laugh.

  A few minutes later, one of the junior staff brought her an envelope. “Mr. Brookes—Mr. Dylan Brookes,” she clarified since his father was here, as well, “asked me to give you this.”

  Inside, there was a key and a note: If you beat me home, let yourself in. I’ll meet you later.

  Marnie pocketed both quickly, but she smiled to herself. Analise who?

  * * *

  Dylan walked Analise into the lobby of her building while his parents waited in the limo. It had been a long night—successful, but long—but he was hit by a burst of renewed energy at the thought it was almost over.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Dylan. I had a wonderful time.” Analise looked up at him through her lashes, but it was a calculated flirt, not a natural one.

  “It was good to see you again, as well,” he lied. Analise Wilson had to be the most boring woman on the planet. She was kind and charming and well-bred, but dull. Really dull. Mind-numbingly dull. He found it very hard to believe they’d once been a couple. What on earth had they talked about?

  Analise had attached herself to him like a barnacle the moment he’d walked in the door, much to the delight of his mother, who’d done all but propose to the woman on his behalf. She was probably in the limo planning their wedding right now. “Well, good—”

  Analise interrupted him. “Maybe we could go to dinner sometime soon. Get caught up on each other’s lives?”

  Put on the spot like that, what was he supposed to say? Lie and say “sure”? Be rude and tell the truth? He wished he could call Marnie. She’d have the perfect, polite Southern phrase to get him out of this without committing him to anything or hurting Analise’s feelings. “Things are a little busy for me right now, so I can’t make plans, but I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.” Her face fell and he felt like a jerk. “I’ve really got to get my parents home.” I certainly don’t want to leave them alone in a confined space for very long. “Good night, Analise.”

  The icy tension that waited for him in the car wasn’t much better than the disappointment he’d just left behind in the lobby. It was a feeling he was accustomed to, though, and one he associated with home. His father was reading something on his phone and his mother was gazing out the window like she’d never seen the Upper West Side before. They sat as far apart as space allowed, each pretending the other wasn’t there. Once he took his seat, though, and the car started to move, they both turned their attention to him.

  “It was lovely to see Analise again,” his mother said. “She’s such a beautiful girl.”

  “Tonight went well,” his father said a second later.

  Since his mother spoke first, he responded to her first. “Analise did look very lovely tonight.” Then he turned to his father. “It did. Definitely a success.”

  “I had lunch with her mother just last week, and Delores was telling me all about her time in Paris. Did Analise tell you about the shoot at Versailles?”

  He’d spent several hours in the woman’s company tonight, yet he had no idea what his mother was talking about. He was only vaguely aware that Analise had been in Paris for the last year, but had no idea what she’d done there besides shop. What the hell had they talked about all evening? His brain must have checked out from the boredom. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Did you have a chance to speak with Tom Daniels?” his father asked. “His firm is looking to expand their overseas investments.”

  “I did. We’re going to set up a meeting for next week sometime.”

  “Well, you must ask her about it when you see her again.”

  He swiveled his head back toward his mother. “I doubt I’ll have the chance, Mother. I’m not interested in getting involved with Analise again.”

  “But you two made such a nice couple, and the Wilsons are a very good family.”

  “Take him to play golf, but let him win.”

  “You should ask your father if the Wilsons still own that house upstate. It would be—”

  The absurdity of the situation struck him hard—especially since he was so accustomed to having two separate conversations at the same time that it hadn’t struck him as absurd immediately. “Why don’t you ask him, Mother? He’s sitting right beside you.”

  Both his parents looked at him in shock. His mother recovered first, shaking her head and pursing her lips. “Dylan...” she admonished.

  “Normal people speak to other people who are in the room. Or else they get a divorce and not pull other people—like, say, their children—into their sick little power games.”

  His father frowned. “This isn’t some kind of game, Dylan.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” Marnie had called it child abuse. He hadn’t felt abused, though, until right now. “It is, however, a very sick and twisted way to live.” He had a flash of his future: twenty years from now, he might not be talking to his wife, either, and not see it as odd in the least. “This has gone on long enough. Way too long, actually, and I’m done.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He’d just told them, and yet neither one of them had so much as glanced in the direction of t
he other. And they didn’t think that was unusual in the least. They’d been ignoring each other for so long, they may have actually lost the ability to even physically see the other unless they were in public. “I’m not going to humor or enable you in this. Talk to each other or don’t. I don’t really care at this point, because I’m not going to play anymore. Continue on as you will, but I think I’ll only talk to the two of you when you’re in public and pretending to be normal from now on. I value my sanity too much to keep this up. It’s insane.”

  “We are adults, Dylan.”

  “Then act like it. But this? It ends tonight.” He pushed the intercom button and told the driver to pull over. He had the door open before the car even came to a complete stop. “Good night to you both.”

  He was only about four blocks from home, and would have been home in only a few minutes anyway, but he’d rather walk it in twice the time than spend even another few minutes in that charade. The cool night air helped cool his temper—at both his parents and himself. Getting out like that wasn’t the most mature thing he’d ever done, but it still felt good. And the looks on his parents’ faces were priceless.

  It was amazing he was even remotely sane and stable after so many years of that insanity. And his parents had convinced themselves long ago that this wasn’t only acceptable but normal. And by shoving Analise at him, they were only setting him up for the same life.

  He didn’t want his parents’ marriage—cold and angry and separate in order to keep peace, living like contentious roommates. But they hadn’t always been like that, so there was no safety in letting heart and hormones lead the way, either. Where was the line? The safety zone?

  He just wanted stability and a smidgeon of happiness to go with it. Was that too much to ask? He’d built his career on conscientiously keeping people’s fortunes out of risky situations where they had a lot to lose, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to flip that for his personal life.

  Maybe he was just destined to live a bachelor forever. At least he’d never end up like his parents. It wasn’t all that bad of a proposition.

  As the elevator ascended, he realized the fatalistic ridiculousness of that idea. Maybe he needed therapy. Serious therapy. Maybe some shrink might be able to make heads or tails out of this because he sure couldn’t.

  One lamp burned in the foyer as he opened the door, and he saw Marnie’s purse and the spare key on the table beside it. Faint strains of music and muted light spilled out of his bedroom door into the hall. He could almost smell the scent of citrusy perfume in the air.

  He’d forgotten that Marnie would be here.

  His anger and frustration began to lift. That’s what he needed more than therapy. There was no stress or pressure with her. It was simple. Easy. A mini-vacation from his life. Someone who accepted the crazy and didn’t dwell on it. Someone who didn’t really demand or want much of anything from him.

  He loosened his tie and took a deep breath as he walked toward the bedroom, so glad and ready to forget everything else.

  Marnie sat on the bed, draped deliciously across the pillows. The sequins and beading of her dress caught the light, and her creamy skin glowed against the black of her dress and the deep blue of the bedding.

  It was simply incredible. She was simply incredible. Breathtaking.

  Marnie handed him a glass of champagne as he approached.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  Moving over to make room for him, she said, “A successful fund-raiser, of course.”

  He clinked his glass against hers. “You should celebrate. You did an amazing job.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t take much—if any—credit for the event itself, but as far as my assignment to schmooze and mingle, I think it went well.”

  “I heard nothing but compliments.”

  That put a smile on her face. “Oh, good. I like compliments.”

  He dropped his forehead to hers, breathed in her scent, and let his hand slide over the bare skin of her shoulder to trace her collarbone. “You look amazing tonight.”

  He kissed her temple, her cheek, and the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. She shivered slightly, and gooseflesh rose under his lips.

  “That wasn’t the compliment I was fishing for, but thank you.” She fiddled with the lapel of his jacket, straightening it. “You look pretty amazing yourself. Very dashing and James Bond-ish.”

  He removed the tie and tossed it onto the nightstand. Shrugging out of his coat, he tossed it aside, too, and released the shirt studs from their holes. “It’s not very comfortable, you know, but the ladies seem to like it,” he teased.

  “Very true. A tux is catnip to the ladies. You certainly had the interest of several wannabe Bond girls.”

  He cut his eyes to her and saw her lips twitching in amusement. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Analise Wilson is a lovely woman.” Marnie’s tone was serious, but she ruined it with a smirk. “And your mother seems particularly enamored of her.”

  Analise and his mother topped the list of things he really didn’t want to discuss any more tonight. He sighed. He could feel his earlier frustration returning. “Honestly, can we find another topic of conversation?”

  “Poor thing.” She patted his thigh in mock sympathy. “It must be so difficult to be a successful, attractive bachelor. It’s very Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Very what?”

  Marnie shook her head sadly. “Tsk, tsk. And here I thought you had a good education. The opening line in Pride and Prejudice is, ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’”

  Good Lord. “‘In want’ does not mean ‘I want.’”

  An eyebrow went up. “Oh, really? Just a few weeks ago you were saying you did want to get married.”

  Yeah, and end up like my parents. “I’ve decided I was wrong.” His cufflinks joined the pile.

  “Oh.” Marnie stared into her champagne flute.

  “What ‘oh’?”

  “I’m just surprised to hear that. It’s a bit of an attitude change.”

  “Well, none of the women in my current crop of acquaintances meet my needs, so I’m giving up the search. I’d rather die alone.” He drained his glass and reached for the bottle to refill them both. Feeling a little bad for putting a damper on their evening by letting those black thoughts loose, he clinked his glass against hers again. “Here’s to us, Marnie, and things that are simple and uncomplicated and easy.”

  Marnie nodded, but didn’t drink. She had a strange look on her face.

  “Marnie? Are you okay?”

  She nodded, but the look didn’t change. “Yeah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Blinking, Marnie focused on his face. Then she cleared her throat. “We have to talk.”

  That didn’t bode well. His good mood deflated again. “Okay.”

  “Wow, this is awkward.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, her cheeks puffing. “Really awkward.”

  “Then you’re just going to have to say it.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” She met his eyes evenly. “This is our last night, Dylan. I’ve met someone else.”

  * * *

  The lie came out easily. Much easier than expected. It nearly killed her to say it, but what the hell else was she going to do? Dylan’s casual attitude was stomping on her heart, making it very clear that these newfound feelings of hers were very one-sided and that he would not welcome the news.

  Dylan pulled back, shock written across his face. “What?”

  “I’ve met someone else.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Pride was a bitch. Injured pride was worse. “No.”

  He rolled off the bed. “Who? And when, for God’s sake?”

  She tried to keep her voice even. “I’ve actually known him for a while. I thought we were just friends, but I realized recently that my feelings for him have changed. I want...more from him.” That was ac
tually the truth. “I can’t have something ‘simple and uncomplicated’ with you and something more from him at the same time. I have to make a choice.”

  “And you’re choosing him.”

  She couldn’t quite meet his eyes, afraid he might see through the lie. “Yeah.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing in my bed right now?”

  Something nasty coiled in her stomach as the repercussions of her lie tangled around her. That was a very fair question, and she didn’t have a good answer because she’d been making it up on the fly. Now she was stuck in the lie and it didn’t make her look like a very nice person at all. Damn it all straight to hell. She hadn’t planned for this to happen. In the rush of her new feelings, she’d conveniently forgotten to question whether Dylan might return them or what she’d do if he didn’t. “I thought we’d have one last night together, but...” The look of disgust that rolled over Dylan’s face matched the feeling in her stomach as she fought to keep her face neutral. Now she sounded like a slut. “But I realize now that I can’t go through with it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this guy?”

  Her eyes were burning. Thank God the lights in here were too dim for Dylan to see. “I just did, Dylan.”

  He raked a hand through his hair and cursed. He didn’t say anything, just stared at a place just beyond her shoulder, and she didn’t know what to say or do next. The silence stretched out and Marnie felt physically ill.

  Dylan finally spoke. “So this is it, then.”

  Pain slashed through her chest, and she realized she’d been hoping for... What? What did she think was going to happen? That Dylan would drop to his knees and beg her to stay? That he’d suddenly admit that he had feelings for her, too, beyond just an easy, comfortable time? She scooted to the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

  Her overnight bag and shoes were at the foot of the bed, and she had to pass Dylan to get to them. She inhaled as she passed, breathing in his scent one last time.

  She stepped into her shoes and shouldered her bag, steeling herself to face him. “It’s been great, Dylan. Really. I mean that. And I sincerely hope you find someone wonderful very soon who will make you very happy.”