Unsung Hero

by Barbara Ankrum

For a moment, she forgot she was standing in the middle of a rehearsal dinner with people all around who might easily catch the whiff of heat between them. Unbeckoned heat. Unwelcome, even. A champion? Is that what he wanted to be, suddenly? “That’s kind of funny, coming from you.”

  He didn’t look away. “Right. I know I hurt you when I left. If I could change how things went down between us…”

  “But you can’t.”

  “No. I can’t change that,” he said, sending another flash of heat across her skin. She blinked up at him, knowing she should simply walk away. But the regret tilting his mouth held her there.

  Confusion stirred in her chest. Why was he trying to mess with her feelings? “What are you doing, Nio?”

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m just asking a question.”

  “One that’s really none of your business.”

  “If you didn’t look so unhappy, I would agree.”

  “I am not—” She pulled her voice down an octave. “I’m…fine.”

  He shook his head at that woefully inadequate word. “Generally when a woman uses that ‘F’ word, she’s anything but.”

  She swallowed hard. “If you’re sensing unhappiness…well, it’s because I’m standing here, trying to explain myself to you after ten years and…and…remind me, why am I doing that again?”

  He straightened. “We have things that need saying.”

  “Not here,” she said. “And definitely not now.”

  “Okay.” He tilted a look at her. “Want to tell me why you ran this morning?”

  “I—” she began, but faltered as Steven moved beside her, handing her a glass of Chardonnay.

  “Who’s running where, babe?” He held a bottle of beer in his other hand.

  Babe? With a secret glare his way, she said, “I ran into Nio on the beach this morning walking Milo.” She took a long sip of wine. Gulped it, actually, like there was no tomorrow.

  “Oh yeah?” Steven said.

  Awkwardness forked between the three of them as he put a possessive arm around her shoulders, the first time he’d actually touched her since last night. She nearly punched him, but for the sake of the lie, she allowed his touch. “Nio, this is Steven Whaley. Steven, Nio Reyes, an old friend.”

  Steven gave him a cool nod, his hands full of beer and her, and he seemed to take an instant, inexplicable dislike to Nio. His grip cut into her shoulder. It was just the sort of possessive bravado she hated. Especially considering he’d unceremoniously dumped her less than twenty-four hours ago.

  “So, how do you know Becca, Nio? I don’t remember ever hearing her mention your name.”

  She crunched Steven’s toe.

  His smile hardened. “And what kind of a name’s Nio? That short for—”

  “Antonio,” Nio said, without taking his eyes off her. “My dad worked for Becca’s family for years.”

  “What’d he do, exactly, your father?”

  Nio’s expression went cold. “He was their groundskeeper. And a damned good one.”

  “A gardener, huh?” Steven worked to contain a smirk. “Well, shit, Bec. You didn’t tell me you went slumming as a kid.”

  Becca’s eyes widened and she ducked out of Steven’s reach. “You’re already drunk.”

  “Just a little,” Steven admitted. “But we’re friends, right, Nio? Even if you are standing here flirting with my girlfriend.”

  “You mean your fiancée, don’t you?” Nio watched her ex from beneath that fence of dark lashes. If she didn’t know better, she’d call that look dangerous.

  Steven set his teeth.

  She gulped more wine. “Oh, look! They’re calling us to dinner.”

  Steven fingered a mock salute at Nio. “See ya later…Nio.”

  With a last look over her shoulder, she flashed a silent apology at Nio who was sipping his beer darkly.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed at Steven as they walked toward the tables.

  He slugged another drink of beer, then leaned in to her ear. “What kind of guy messes with someone’s fiancée at a rehearsal dinner?”

  “Ex-fiancée. And FYI, we were just talking. But, riddle me this, Batman—what kind of guy sleeps around on his fiancée while they’re still engaged?”

  “Calm down, Rebecca. People are looking at you.”

  Burn.

  She gulped the last of her wine and dropped her glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

  “You may wish I was invisible, but I’m just beginning to see myself again.” She fake smiled up at him, pulling her arm from his. “And you.”

  *

  At dinner on the long, candlelit Italian-styled tables under the stars, Nio found himself sitting across and two down from Becca and him. That guy he would have taken down in a heartbeat for a crack like he’d made back there, if he wasn’t at his old friend’s wedding and if Becca hadn’t looked like she’d swallowed something sharp.

  Sitting beside the bride’s mother, a sweet woman named Ruth Pratt, he found himself dragged into conversations about the happy couple’s impending Tahitian honeymoon and Graham’s love for deep-sea fishing. While he tried to keep up, his attention kept getting pulled back to Becca and her dick of a fiancé.

  Except for his little show of possession over at the railing, he hadn’t seen Whaley touch her once since they’d sat down, much less say a word to her. Instead, he talked all around her, to her right and left and across the table. For her part, Becca’s mind seemed elsewhere, too. And every now and then, he would swear she started to tear up before pulling herself together again.

  Maybe it was the wedding, or all the wine she was drinking. She was on her third glass, an unusual amount if he remembered anything about her thimbleful-tolerance level. Or maybe it was because he was sitting nearby, reminding her of times she’d rather forget. She was studiously avoiding looking at him.

  It might have been a mistake coming here tonight, he admitted, but in truth, if Whaley had been a stand-up guy, Nio would have stayed far away from her. He wasn’t one to break up a couple destined for a happy marriage, even if that meant he lost the one girl he’d spent most of his life wanting.

  Yet he couldn’t imagine how she’d settled for a guy like Whaley. Though he’d learned two years ago that she was involved with him and then actually engaged, the guy had been only so many notations on a dossier his private investigator brother had drawn up for him. Trey’s more recent investigation had turned up real trouble for Becca. It had taken Trey all of twenty-four hours to discover Whaley was cheating on her at work, up in L.A. He had the photos. Some little bimbo actress on the set of his latest show.

  Nio’s gaze strayed back to Becca who was pretending—every time he caught her looking his way—that she was staring over his shoulder or looking right through him.

  Except every now and then he’d catch her actually watching him. That was enough to send hunger curling through him. It felt good to be this close to her after only getting as close to her as his dreams would allow for years. He hadn’t forgotten anything. Not the way her left eyebrow ticked up when she was lost in thought, or the sexy, upward curve at the corners of her mouth that didn’t even require a smile. Despite her attempts to look cheerful, he knew her mouth too intimately to be fooled. What would it take tonight to make her smile?

  “So tell me what you’ve been up to, Nio,” said one of the other groomsmen, Jake Whitmore. “We heard you got yourself into Caltech way back when. You always were a brainiac.”

  “That was a long time ago.” He and Jake had attended the same local junior college. Nio had worked two jobs on the side for two years after high school, all while he and Becca secretly saw each other.

  “And your brother, Trey?” John Lawler, another of the groomsmen, put in. “We heard he ended up some kind of war hero?”

  “That’s right,” Nio said, lifting his drink. “He did. Navy SEAL commander.”

  Somebody gave a long whistle, while Lawler commented not-too-quietly under
his breath about the unlikeliness of such an outcome.

  Nio sipped his drink and felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise. “Maybe you should ask the men whose lives he saved if they held his past against him?”

  Lawler sobered and straightened. “Hey, I’m—I didn’t mean—”

  Nio reined in his urge to deck the guy. “I know you didn’t.”

  Lawler blushed and turned his attention back to his food. Against his better instincts, Nio had somehow managed to make himself the center of attention at the table. Even Becca was watching him openly now.

  Nio dragged his gaze away from Becca and turned to Jake. “What about you?” he asked, diverting. “Somebody said Stanford Law?”

  “Yup. Yup. My old man’s alma mater. I’m a partner at an entertainment law firm up in Century City now. Love the hell out of it. Every day is different. But Caltech, man. That’s impressive. A whole other trajectory. And, so what’d you end up doing with it? Rocket science?”

  Nio shrugged, taking a bite of salad. “I dabble in technology. A little investing.”

  Becca glanced up at him.

  “Dabble?” Alex Rivers, Graham’s best man, interjected with a disbelieving grin. “That’s not how I heard it. I heard you—”

  “Nio, Alex, here, got a sweet record deal this summer,” Graham said, cutting him off, much to Nio’s relief. The groom was making his way around the table, saying hello. “You remember him in the high school musicals. He’s even deigning to sing at our wedding tomorrow. How’s that for a best man?” Graham clapped Alex’s shoulder and the best man couldn’t hide the fact that he loved being the center of attention. Even Nio could see that Alex had that “it” factor that made him a “somebody.” With his dark blond hair and pale blue eyes, he would kill it in the female market.

  “What label are you recording with?” Cameron asked from down the table.

  With Nio forgotten, Alex expounded on his record deal with Mega Records. Graham leaned down to Nio and quietly asked, “Havin’ fun?”

  “Definitely,” he lied.

  “Lawler’s famously prone to foot-in-mouth disease, but he doesn’t really mean anything by it.”

  Graham purposefully glanced at Steven Whaley who was chatting up the pretty girl on his other side. When Becca wasn’t carving a Close Encounters of the Third Kind mountain out of her mashed potatoes, she was focusing all of her attention on her girlfriends nearby. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

  “What’s that?” Nio asked.

  He leaned closer. “That all is not well in Becca-ville.”

  Nio scrubbed a hand through his hair and narrowed a look at them. He wasn’t, apparently, the only one to notice.

  “Lilah thinks they’re fine,” Graham went on, “but Steven was hitting the booze hard on the boat today. And I heard you two had words earlier. Sorry about that.”

  Nio shrugged again, as if it wasn’t important. “I can handle him. You know him well?”

  Graham nodded. “For years. Former roommate. Stevie can be a bit of a wild card, but he’s all right. But according to Lilah, he’s been making Becca wait a long time for a wedding date and that doesn’t bode well. Anyway, whatever it is, it’s between them. Hey, man, I’m really glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks. I’m really happy to be here,” he said as Graham moved on. That much was true. Graham’s friendship, despite the years and all the drama he’d left behind him, meant a lot to Nio.

  Someone chimed a wineglass for attention. Graham’s father had raised his glass in a toast to the bride and groom. His speech was brief and heartfelt, thanking everyone for coming, hoping for good weather tomorrow and welcoming Lilah into their family. Then he turned the floor over to several from the wedding party who stumbled through their toasts, wishing the bride and groom their best.

  Steven Whaley stood next, a little flush-faced and feeling no pain. Becca watched him sideways with what Nio could only describe as a forced smile pasted on her face.

  “Here’s to the best couple I know,” Steven said, lifting his glass. “Graham and I were, once upon a time, living together in that hovel down on the beach. Remember? And I recall when you came back from that first date with Lilah and we were sitting on our sand patio sharing a beer. You said, ‘Steve-o, I think she’s the one.’ You might as well have said, ‘Steve-o, I’m goin’ to Mars.’” The audience laughed appreciatively. “That’s how much I thought you’d never settle down. But Lilah is perfect for you. And it goes both ways. So…here’s to a great fisherman and…the awesome woman who’ll be cooking all those fish for you.” Everyone laughed again. Everyone but Becca. “To Graham and Lilah!”

  To applause and a few whoops, Steven sat back down, looking very proud of himself. And just when Nio figured the toasts were done, Becca shoved unsteadily to her feet and raised her glass. Steven seemed to notice her for the first time all night.

  “To loyalty—” she blurted, looking a bit surprised to be standing and toasting. “And to trust. Both of which, a person…marrying another person…should expect from that other person before he asks you to spend the rest of your life with him.” She stopped short, searching the faces of her audience for a path forward. A few gazes skidded past Steven in confusion before returning to her.

  “What I mean is…” she said, lifting her glass, “Lilah and Graham have that. They do. Because they know what those words mean to each other and…to their friends, to all of us here. And…those are…those are rare qualities. I mean, really, really…really rare in this world. And almost as unlikely as finding buried treasure in your backyard.”

  She smiled at them and they smiled back at her in a bemused kind of way.

  “So tomorrow,” Becca went on, swaying a bit, “Lilah…Graham…when you say your vows before God and all of us here, well…you’ll remind us that buried treasure still exists. Somewhere in the world.”

  To her left, Steven found something fascinating on the tablecloth to stare at.

  “Cheers!” She lifted her glass higher and everyone joined her, shouting, “Cheers!”

  Nio lifted his glass, too, suddenly certain that she knew exactly what Steven was up to behind her back. Never had he wanted to punch a guy’s lights out more than he did the man sitting right next to her. But if she knew, what was she doing here with him, letting him show her off as his own? And why had she introduced him as her fiancé, wearing his ring, if he’d, in fact, finally told her the truth? All of these were questions he needed answers to and he would get them. Maybe before the night was over.

  Finally, dinner ended and the crowd began breaking up for the night. Several people clapped Becca on the back for her toast and admired her ring, asking her when she and Steven were going to finally tie the knot. Steven answered for her, saying they hadn’t figured it all out yet, putting a possessive arm around her again as if he’d only just remembered he had a part to play—the loving fiancé.

  “C’mon,” Steven said. “I just called an Uber for us.”

  Becca flicked a look at Nio then. A look that was almost as lost as it was exposed. Almost as if she recognized that she hadn’t fooled him at all. Then she disentangled herself from Whaley, grabbed her bag and excused herself to the restroom.

  Nio waited a beat, then did the only thing he could think of. He followed her.

  Chapter Four

  Becca paced the small restroom lounge like a caged cat. She’d made an absolute idiot of herself with that toast and now everyone must know her secret. Why had she had that third glass of wine? Her mouth was under control at two. But at four, she babbled. And said things she shouldn’t.

  God, what a mess. What she knew was that she didn’t want to ride home with Steven tonight. She just couldn’t.

  Scraping her fingers into her hair, she leaned in to the wall of mirrors to get a close-up look at what everyone else probably already saw: a foolish woman who’d allowed herself to hope. “Hope is for suckers,” she breathed, “and believing in love is even worse.” Ha
dn’t she learned her lesson about such things from her parents’ debacle? And if that hadn’t been enough, her father’s ending should have sealed the deal.

  A sob escaped her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. What was wrong with her that men just left her? Worse, that she couldn’t see them for what they were? After her father’s untimely death, Steven had obviously reassessed his future—their future—and found it lacking. But was that really it? She certainly couldn’t blame her father for Nio’s desertion, years ago. That had been all him. Or, more likely, all her.

  The door to the restroom swung open and in strode the object of her thoughts, his eyes dark and fixed on her. Nothing even close to giving a damn for invading a place he shouldn’t crossed his expression.

  Becca backed up against the sink, bumping her hip, then edged toward the wall. “Nio. Wh-what are you doing in here?”

  “What’s it look like? Talk to me, Becca. What’s going on?”

  She straightened. “I’m fine. Nothing’s going on. You shouldn’t be in here.”

  He locked the door behind him.

  “Nio—”

  “They can wait a minute. Don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re not. I can see that.” He took a few steps toward her, then stopped when she flinched. He held his palms up. “You’re crying.”

  “No. No I’m not.” The words came out in a half sob. Horrifyingly, snot squirted out of her nose and she clapped a hand over her face.

  A sympathetic grin twisted his mouth and he tugged a paper towel from the dispenser, handing it to her. “That’s snot exactly true, is it?”

  “Oh, God.” Against her will, she laughed and blew her nose. “How positively mortifying.”

  “It was kinda charming, actually,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

  Just that, his small touch, sent a paroxysm of longing through her. Damn him! Remember your vow to swear off men. Especially this one! She glared up at him past the paper towel. “Don’t be nice to me. It goes against everything I believe about you.”

  “Well, that is a problem,” he agreed. “You don’t really want to share an Uber with him, do you?”