Her Second Chance Dream Groom

by Emma St Clair

  “He wants to—” Delia’s voice was rising again, but before she could finish, Amy threw open the door and practically shoved her sister out onto the porch.

  She locked the deadbolt behind her, even as Delia started to bang on the door. “You can come back in when you’re calm and civil to each other.”

  “Amy! Open this door!” Delia shouted, pounding.

  Taking a breath, Amy picked up the grocery bag and walked back to the kitchen, where she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.

  “Is someone at the door?”

  “Actually, yes. Delia’s out there. With Sy LaMarque.”

  My impossible, life-long, painful crush. No biggie.

  Her mother’s eyes lit up. Guess she wasn’t still angry about prom night. Amy shouldn’t have been surprised. Her mom had always loved him just as much as Amy did. “Really? He’s here? I need to go put on my jersey.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh as her mother darted out of the room. As she pulled out a wooden salad bowl and started to slice tomatoes, Amy tried to prepare herself for the inevitable heartbreak, starting right now on the front porch between her lifelong crush and her big sister.

  Chapter 5

  FIVE

  Delia looked every bit as furious with Sy as she had on prom night. Without the tears, thankfully. But no less rage. Amy, the traitor, had literally shoved Delia out here and then left them. Clearly, she had not told Delia that Sy was coming to dinner.

  For a long moment, Sy stared and Delia glared. What shocked Sy was the fact that he felt no heat. This was the moment he thought of when his teammates started talking about regrets. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, he would show up, apologize, and win over Delia, finally. Finally, he would shed the Perpetual Bachelor nickname and get the girl he’d always wanted.

  But his nervousness was about what to say, not from attraction or excitement. Delia was still beautiful. Her golden hair fell past her shoulders and she had the same blue eyes she shared with her sister.

  Except … something was different. The color might be the same, but Amy’s eyes held something else. What was it? He studied Delia, trying to put words to the subtle differences between the two sisters, but he couldn’t.

  Why was he thinking about Amy when Delia stood right in front of him?

  Sy swallowed hard as realization hit him: he was interested in Amy, not Delia. Amy’s laughter, her bright eyes, the way she teased him, and even that wildflower scent pulled him toward her. Being around her felt like being bathed in light. And right now, with that light inside, Sy was trapped with Delia, whose anger seemed to suck up all the energy on the porch.

  Sy realized he was still just standing there, staring. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey, Delia.”

  “Hey? You’re going to start with hey?” Her voice rose into a screech and her eyes blazed.

  Sy tried not to flinch. He sensed that, as with a predator, he shouldn’t show any signs of weakness. Delia definitely seemed ready to tear his throat out.

  More than anything, Sy wanted to run into the house, grab Amy by the hand, and run for his car. But even if he didn’t want the relationship he thought he did with Delia, Sy should still make things right. He owed her an apology and he owed it to the guys to fulfill his promise. Maybe things were different than he thought, but he would still make this right.

  Sy gave Delia his most practiced charming smile, the one he usually saved for interviews. It wasn’t a real smile, but only a few people got to see that one. Amy was one. Delia seemed fooled by this one, though, and her expression softened. She ran a hand through her long hair.

  “That was not my best start. Maybe I could try that again?”

  “Fine.”

  Her words had lost all their heat and Sy felt his shoulders relax. He gestured to the porch swing. “Could we sit?”

  Delia sighed and sat down in the swing, still keeping her arms crossed in a defensive posture. Sy took the spot beside her, keeping a good bit of space between them. The creak of the wood and the chains the swing hung from were so familiar. Many nights they had sat out on this swing, usually with Delia complaining to Sy about her boy troubles while he silently wished that she’d give him a chance. Sometimes Amy would make faces at him through the picture window just behind them. The memory brought a smile to his face and made him again wish to be inside.

  “You look happy,” Delia said.

  He shook his head, trying to clear Amy out for at least a few minutes so he could probably apologize to Delia. The sooner he got it done, the sooner he could join Amy inside. “I was just remembering.”

  “We did have some happy memories. Before you pulled that stunt on prom night.”

  She was trying to sound angry, but when Sy glanced over, Delia seemed more expectant. Maybe even hopeful. Like she was just waiting for the apology. He couldn’t have asked for an easier opening. Taking a deep breath, Sy turned a little in his seat to face her. “Delia, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

  “About?” She may have given him an opening, but she wasn’t going to make this too easy on him.

  “Let’s see.” Sy began to count on his fingers. “I’m sorry that I got into a fight with Derek on your front lawn on prom night. I’m sorry that I got arrested and missed taking you to the dance. I’m sorry you had to go alone. And I’m really sorry that I didn’t really apologize years ago, when I should have.”

  She rolled her eyes and then gave him a flirty grin. “You’re forgiven.”

  Sy blinked. After years of feeling guilty, that’s all it took? A weight lifted, and Sy wished that he had done this years ago. Maybe he would have stopped pining over Delia years ago too.

  “I do want to know this: why did you and Derek get into a fight anyway? I know he was a little punk, but he wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. I just figured he was jealous I said yes to you, not him.”

  Sy’s mouth fell open. “He asked you to prom?”

  “A few people did. But I was holding out for you, so once you asked, I told them all no.”

  Sy was trying to process this. So, other guys asked Delia to prom first. Did she tell them all maybe and string them along until she got a better offer? Back then, Sy would have felt important, like she waited just for him. Now it felt … selfish.

  Delia smiled at him. “I was mad you got arrested, but I wasn’t mad you were fighting over me.”

  Sy’s jaw tightened. “We weren’t fighting over you. He said something bad about Amy.”

  Not just something bad—something terrible. Derek, who had lived a few houses down from Delia, was lurking on the lawn when Sy arrived to pick up the girls. He had followed Sy up the sidewalk making snide comments. Sy ignored him, all the way up until he said it was a good thing Amy was going on one date before she died, even if it was a pity date.

  Then he took it one step further. Sy could still hear the words in his head and they filled him with just as much rage now as they had then: “Hope you give it to her good. It would be a shame for her to die a virgin.”

  Sy didn’t even remember throwing the first punch. Maybe he would have stopped if Derek hadn’t kept laughing and running his mouth. If the cop who lived up the street hadn’t pulled them apart, Sy might have put Derek in the hospital.

  Even though he hated the way that night turned out, Sy would probably do the same thing again, given the chance. Maybe he would have stopped with one hit instead of losing control. But Derek still deserved it.

  “You fought him and ruined my prom over my sister?” Delia looked stunned. Her lip curled a little when she said, “my sister.”

  Looking at Delia, Sy could suddenly see the things that Elton and Easton hinted at. It felt like his view of Delia had always been clouded by his attraction. Now that it had dimmed, he saw her more clearly. Delia had always been a little bossy, a little controlling, a little bit harsh. She wasn’t a terrible person, but Delia was like the sun in the center of the Delia-verse, with everyone else orbiting around h
er.

  She might be beautiful, but it was all decoration, hanging on the outside. It definitely didn’t match the inside. Unlike Amy, whose beauty seemed to shine right through from the inside out. A flash of guilt hit Sy for comparing the two sisters, but it was hard not to. He really wanted to finish this conversation. He needed to be near Amy again.

  Delia laughed. “You know she always had a crush on you.” Her words weren’t mean, exactly, but they didn’t exactly sound kind either. She was doing that girl thing where they put someone down in a way that wasn’t an outright insult. Sy always hated that.

  Then the words sank in and his heart sped up. “She did?”

  Delia rolled her eyes. “Like you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t, actually.” He had seen her like a little sister back then, her words and actions more fun than flirtatious. But now … Maybe if she liked him then, she could like him now.

  “Remember how she always hung around when you were here? It was pretty embarrassing. I tried telling her not to bother you, but you were just so sweet to put up with her.”

  “I like—liked Amy. She’s a nice girl.”

  The words falling out of Sy’s mouth didn’t quite feel right, like they weren’t an accurate description of how he felt about Amy, then or now. She was never just nice. He didn’t exactly want to reveal his thoughts about Amy to Delia. The whole conversation made him feel uncomfortable, like he was trapped into a gossipy conversation about Amy.

  “It was sweet.” Delia’s tone was so patronizing that it made Sy bristle. “The way she came practically running out of her room as soon as you entered the house—it was adorable! She’d sit as close to you as she could, talk to you about football, smile at you while batting her lashes. So cute. Embarrassing but cute.”

  How did Amy feel now? Sy’s gaze kept flicking toward the house. The need to extract himself from this conversation and get back to Amy was getting harder to ignore. But Delia just kept going on.

  “Not that I can blame her.” Delia’s voice came out in almost a purr, drawing Sy’s attention back to her, as she put her hand firmly on his knee. Sy felt a crawling sensation that only deepened when he saw how she was looking up at him.

  “You always were so sweet. The way you treated Amy just shows what a nice guy you are. I’m not even mad that you missed prom because you got in a fight over her. If you did that for her, I know you would have done the same for me.”

  She slid closer on the swing. He recognized the soft, hungry look that he’d seen on the faces of countless women who constantly buzzed around him like flies at various events.

  Oh no. Instinctively, Sy began to back up, even as Delia scooted closer.

  “I can be really sweet too, Sy. If you give me a chance to show you.”

  Disgust coiled in Sy’s stomach at her words and her tone. It was almost like a switch had been flipped. Delia had gone from anger to attraction with the snap of her fingers. It made him feel used.

  “Um, Delia …” He leaned away, his back digging into the arm of the swing. The way she had her hand possessively on his knee, leaning toward him made it hard to get up without tossing her to the ground. He was torn between escape and being a gentleman. “We should go inside.”

  “Aw. But we were just starting to connect again. You don’t want to pick up where we left off?”

  “We left off as friends.”

  Delia pouted. “But you can’t deny you wanted more. Isn’t that why you asked me to prom? To get your chance with me?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “You can have that chance now.” And with a quickness that made it impossible for Sy to easily extricate himself, Delia climbed into his lap and tried to kiss him. Sy turned his head, grasping her by the shoulders and trying to push her back.

  Her lips landed on his jaw and she giggled. This, of course, was the moment Sy heard the deadbolt snap as Amy opened the door.

  “You guys make up yet? Oh.”

  Amy’s voice broke Sy’s frozen state and he practically shoved Delia away, jumping to his feet to face Amy. He knew guilt showed all over his face, making things look worse than they were. Delia didn’t help, with her pleased smile and the way she straightened the collar of her shirt. He hadn’t kissed Delia, but it sure looked that way. Amy’s face went from shocked to hurt to a totally blank look.

  Delia stood, leaning into Sy and putting her hand in his. He tried to pull away, but she used her other hand to grab his arm harder. “Oh, sorry! We were just talking.” She giggled, squeezing Sy’s arm.

  Amy stared at her sister’s hands. Sy felt sure if she had superpowers, she would have lasered Delia’s fingers right off. When he moved to step away, Delia clung to him possessively, moving with him like his shadow.

  Amy smiled, but it didn’t light her eyes. “Sure. Come on in when you’re done talking.” She turned and slammed the door behind her.

  Delia giggled again, and the sound felt like nails on a chalkboard. “Come on, Sy. You remember the way, right?”

  “Yep.”

  As he stepped into the house, Sy finally managed to pull away from Delia. She cast another adoring gaze up at him before practically skipping away down the hall to the kitchen. “Mom! You won’t believe who’s here. Did Amy tell you?”

  Sy paused in the front hall, looking into the dining room to the left, where Amy was setting the table. “Ames?”

  She didn’t look up, but straightened a napkin, smoothing out the corners much more than seemed necessary. “Yeah? What do you want, Sy?”

  You. I want you.

  But he couldn’t say that. Not with the mess he just made. Delia thought he was interested in her. Amy had been hurt, even if she was pretending she wasn’t.

  Sy tried to untangle the emotions in his chest. Things had felt so simple and easy when he and Amy were at the bed and breakfast. Now she had a hard wall up and Sy didn’t know how to begin scaling it. He had made such a huge mess of everything. Just like years before, but in a totally different way.

  Amy still stood looking at him, waiting. Sy shook his head. “Nothing. Guess I’ll go say hi to your mom.”

  Sy didn’t move right away, waiting for Amy to say something, anything. But it wasn’t her job to fix this. He needed to explain to Amy that he wasn’t interested in Delia, that they hadn’t been kissing on the front porch. Would Amy even be interested if she thought Delia already was?

  Was she interested at all?

  Words were on the tip of his tongue. How he wanted to get to know Amy, not as Delia’s little sister or a girl fighting cancer. Just as she was now. A woman who didn’t seem to have any sense how beautiful she was.

  “Sy! Come say hi to my mom!” Delia called from the kitchen.

  “You should go. Mom’s really excited that you’re here,” Amy said.

  She went back to straightening napkins that didn’t need straightening. Sy finally walked away, feeling like his life story was just a series of mistakes that he couldn’t seem to make right.

  Chapter 6

  SIX

  Sy was never mine. He was always Delia’s.

  Amy kept repeating these words in her head as she carried the salad bowl to the dining room table. Delia was still in the kitchen, running her mouth about L.A. and what it was like to be an extra on soap operas. Every so often, Sy grunted a response or her mother asked a question.

  Amy had disappeared. Just like old times.

  Setting down the salad bowl, Amy slid into one of the ornate dining room chairs. Sy was never mine. Repeating the words in her head didn’t take the edge off the pain that shot through her seeing Sy and Delia on the porch swing. They had been all over each other. It didn’t even take them more than ten minutes to get cozy. That had to be a record.

  It shocked her, though it shouldn’t have. Sy had asked about Delia and had wanted to apologize. He’d been in love with her for years back in the day.

  But for a little while today, Sy had felt like hers. He seemed to enjoy being with her. He
laughed with her. Teased her.

  When it came down to it, Amy just couldn’t hold a candle to Delia. Amy might be older now, healthier, less terrifying to look at, but she would never match up to her sister.

  At least Sy had the decency to look sort of guilty about it when Amy walked out and interrupted whatever was going on. He should be sorry—he had been flirting with Amy since he checked into the B&B. Hadn’t he?

  As she tucked her napkin into her lap, Amy realized that she probably misread everything. Sy was just being playful. Or kind. He always had a way of making her feel special. Maybe that was it: he still felt bad for Amy, seeing her as the girl ravaged by cancer and the treatments.

  Her stomach clenched. No one seemed to notice her inner turmoil as they all gathered around the table. Delia carried in the platter of roast beef, potatoes, and carrots, while their mother brought a pitcher of water and Sy set down a basket of warm rolls with butter.

  “This looks delicious,” Sy said. “Thanks for having me.”

  Her mother beamed as she sat down next to Amy. “Why, thank you. My girls are never quite as appreciative of my cooking.”

  Amy and Delia exchanged a look. This was literally the only dish their mother could make and not burn. Any time they had dinner, this was what their mother made. Amy’s tension eased slightly with the shared glance. Delia was her sister. It might kill Amy if Delia ended up with Sy, but that look reminded her of what they had. A sisterly bond. Delia was family. As much as she could, Amy needed to put a damper on her jealousy and hard feelings about this. Another cliché bubbled up from her mental vault: blood runs thicker than water.

  Delia sat across from their mom, leaving Sy to sit directly across from Amy. Normally, the three of them ate at the kitchen table or the stools at the kitchen island. But once Amy mentioned a guest to Delia, their Mom moved things into the more formal dining room, which only added to Amy’s discomfort with this dinner.

  Sitting at the formal dining table had always made Amy feel like a little girl. The high-backed chairs, the gleaming tabletop, the fine china—it brought back memories of childhood thanksgivings. The table seated twelve, and often they had aunts and uncles and cousins from Oklahoma visiting. And, of course, her father. A wave of sadness swept through her.