“And your engagement ring?” Mac asked, her heart suddenly in her throat.
Tears welled up in Kerry’s eyes. “He sold his Camaro to buy me this ring and help pay for our wedding.” She sniffed.
Bess, in the way that mothers always seemed to do, magically made a tissue appear, which she pressed into Kerry’s hand.
“He loved that bloody car,” Kerry said.
“He loves you more,” Bess said. “Joe just can’t see that.”
“You should tell him about the pre-nup,” Mac said. “And about the car.”
“I shouldn’t have to.” Kerry scowled and dabbed at her nose. “He should trust my judgment.”
“I’m not sure Joe trusts his own judgment,” Bess said quietly as the limo drew to a smooth halt outside the Desert Rose Day Spa entrance. “And that’s clouded his view on love and marriage. I think Mac’s right. The time’s past for waiting for Joe to come to his senses. Isn’t having his blessing more important?”
“Maybe.” Kerry scowled. “Guess he can’t help being a bleedin’ eejit.”
The three of them exited the limo and strolled into the single-story building. Soothing colors in desert tones of dusky pink, gold, and tan in the lobby greeted them. A few white-robe-wearing women sat on puffy couches artfully arranged in intimate seating areas, sipping on tall glasses of water. They did, indeed, look relaxed. Yay, them. Mac swallowed, trying to find her happy place.
“We’re booked in for the full body package,” Bess told the receptionist. “It’s my only daughter’s wedding the day after tomorrow.”
“Congratulations.” The woman beamed at the three of them—as though they, too, were tying the knot in forty-eight hours’ time. “The full body package will leave you feeling like a princess ready for your big day.”
One facial, foot soak and pedicure, body scrub, and body wrap later, Mac felt less like a princess and more like a prepared side of beef. Maybe it was just her but the final treatment—a massage alongside Bess and Kerry—felt as if she were being tenderized before roasting. As she lay facedown and butt-naked apart from a towel across her hips, the burly masseur, introduced as “Cody,” worked over her muscles as if the tension wiring them were a personal affront.
Tense muscles couldn’t be helped.
During the earlier treatments, which to Mac’s dismay were shared with both other women, the two of them had peppered her with one-hundred-and-one questions about her life. It was like the worst “meet the parents” experience Mac had ever had, only a hundred times more humiliating since she’d had to answer the questions sans underwear. Really hard to be evasive when you were coated in a detoxifying seaweed mixture and wrapped in foil like a spring roll.
“Speaking of you and Joe, MacKenna,” Bess said from the third massage table in the line, even though they hadn’t been speaking about her and Joe, but Bess and Rick’s plan to hike the Abel Tasman National Park again that summer. “I just have to ask—”
“Mam! Jaysus.”
Mac’s butt muscles tightened so hard Cody the masseur could’ve bounced one of his hot massage stones off them. OhGodOhGod. Here it came.
Being pummeled by her Thai masseuse no hinder to speaking her mind, Bess continued. “Are you in love with my son?”
“You don’t have to answer that.” Kerry’s muffled voice came from the table next to Mac’s. “Just ignore her.”
As if that were remotely possible. Mac had the same chance of ignoring Bess Whelan’s steamrolling questions as one of the unfortunate squished critters at the side of the I15. And in fact, she felt like roadkill as the truth plowed into her.
She had somehow fallen in love with Joe. Stupidly, insanely, boots-and-all in love with him. How the hell had that happened? When had it happened? And what the hell was she gonna do about it?
“If the tension carried in her shoulders is any indication, I think the answer’s either a solid no or a solid yes,” Cody provided helpfully when Mac remained silent.
“Shut up, Cody,” she said.
He snickered. Bastard.
Mac stared at the terracotta tiles through the face hole of the massage table. Step on a crack, break your mother’s back. Or your mother’s heart. And as a child, she’d become convinced she had. That there was something unlovable about Mac, because her mum soon introduced a new “uncle” into their lives who couldn’t pry his lips from her mother’s face for more than a few minutes. Obviously Mac’s mum was loveable, which must mean Mac wasn’t. Which must mean her dad left because of her, therefore, she was to blame for the nights she was woken by her mum still crying over her dad.
As Mac got older, she unravelled some of her parents’ story—her mother’s one night of infidelity, her father’s refusal to examine the root cause of it—and she found her truth. Love hurt everyone involved eventually. Loving someone didn’t guarantee you wouldn’t end up broken hearted and alone.
So how reckless was she to have fallen in love? The kind of stupid, insane love that had you flying halfway around the world to end up naked on a padded table?
“Yes,” Mac said. “I am.”
Because she couldn’t—just couldn’t—lie to Joe’s mother.
“A mother can tell.” Bess’s voice smacked of satisfaction, then subtly sharpened. “But before I get all gushy about how I can already see how happy you make him, about how smashingly good you are together, I want to know what part you had in ending Joe and Sofia’s engagement.”
And…the other shoe dropped, kicking Mac’s ass on the way down. She hadn’t had time to ask Kerry in private how much the rest of her family knew about Sofia’s infidelity, so Mac needed to tread carefully. “I don’t know how much Joe has told you about Sofia.”
“He told us he found out she was unfaithful, and she left him high and dry,” Bess said.
“Did him a solid, you ask me.” Cody dug fingers of iron into Mac’s stubborn shoulder muscles.
“And me,” Kerry added, followed by a throaty moan. “Gawd, that’s good.”
“I was the one who discovered Sofia was cheating and told Joe,” Mac said.
“You knew Sofia and Joe?” Bess asked.
Mac shook her head, even though no one could see the movement. “No. Sofia was a client. I was making her wedding dress, and I only briefly met Joe when he came into the shop once with her.”
And he’d made more of an impact on her than she liked to admit.
“I’ll be honest, Bess, I didn’t like Sofia from the first moment I met her, even though Joe appeared very much in love. Part of me fought against sticking my nose into his business, but after”—Mac sucked in a deep breath—“after I saw what my dad went through when my mum cheated on him, I couldn’t stand the thought of a good man going through that sort of pain.”
Kind of the way Joe couldn’t stand the thought of his sister ending up with a broken heart, although Mac now firmly believed Joe was wrong about his future brother-in-law.
“Joe is a good man,” Bess said. “So thank you for preventing him from making a wrong choice when there was a right choice for him four years down the line.”
“I’m not sure he thinks I’m the right choice. I’m not sure love is even in his vocabulary, and it’s too soon to be talking about love, isn’t it?” Wait—did she say that out loud? Cody’s strong fingers were loosening her mouth as well as her muscles.
“Like love is something he can schedule a fifteen-minute consult for,” Kerry said.
Bess laughed. “Love can be most inconvenient, for sure. Sometimes it takes longer than you’d like to show up; sometimes it jumps out of hiding and bites you in the bollocks, holding on like a pit bull. Suspect that’s what’s happened to our Joe, don’t you, Kerry?”
“Oh, I do. The man’s goose is well and truly cooked. He just hasn’t woken up to smell his singed feathers yet, and I’d pay to be a fly on the wall when he does.” She giggled. “You just wait and see, Mac.”
Mac sighed—part relief, part pure nerves. “That means my goos
e is cooked, too, you know.”
“I’m not surprised,” Bess said. “It’s hot enough to cook anyone’s goose in this town.”
Joe had three hours left to prevent his little sister from walking down the aisle. The odds of success were growing slimmer by the minute, but it didn’t stop him pacing like a caged beast inside his hotel room. Mac swept out of the bathroom dressed only in a towel, and Joe barely glanced at her.
That’s how feckin’ distracted he was.
“Joe. For God’s sake.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I thought you’d dropped this vendetta after spending the past two days with Aaron and having fun. I thought you liked him now.”
Two days of casinos, thrill rides, sightseeing, too much food, hanging out with his family, suffering through a Cirque du Soleil performance because the women wanted to see one—but, ultimately, yep, having fun. And finding out maybe he didn’t hate Aaron as much as he’d thought.
“Whether I like him or not isn’t the point.” Joe stared at the cars far below on the Strip, the horns and traffic a distant rumble. “The point is I don’t think Kerry should be rushing in to marry him.”
Even as the words fell from his mouth, his gut gave a sharp twist and called him a right bloody hypocrite. Because among all the touristy fun, there was the lads’ trip to hire suits, and the dozens of for-hire wedding gowns in the shop’s adjoining space. The sight of the gowns had started a low-grade fever in Joe’s gut when his mind wandered inevitably to Mac, her long hair swept up in curls, her knowing smile as she walked down the aisle toward him, a long white dress swirling around her legs…
He’d snapped out of the daydream there at the suit hire place, but it was too late. He’d been infected.
With wedding fever.
“Have you talked to Kerry yet?”
“No.” Talking was overrated; he needed to do something. Like kidnap his sister and drive her all the way to Alaska.
MacKenna crossed to him at the window and wrapped her arms around his waist, rising up on tiptoe to kiss his jaw. Her skin smelled of the little milled soap in the bathroom combined with the familiar mint-and-flowery scent of her shampoo since she’d brought her own, declaring the tiny bottles the hotel provided as “no better than dishwashing liquid.” She smelled like his. He tucked her closer to his side, dipping his head to kiss—
A hand covered his mouth before his lips touched Mac’s.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “But there’ll be no more making out with me, and you can forget about testing out the Lincoln’s back seat—until you go and talk to your sister.”
Her voice was all tease, but her eyes were dead serious. The hand clapped over his mouth shifted to stroke over his cheekbones and to weave through his hair.
“Please, Joe.”
Cajoling now, and he felt his reluctance melt.
“She needs you.” Mac’s lips pressed together. “And she won’t be talked out of it because she truly does love him. But she needs you and your family on her side to give this marriage the best chance of survival. She and Aaron will have enough challenges and heartbreak to overcome in the years ahead as a couple; don’t let a rift driven between you and Kerry be one of those heartbreaks. Please, Joe,” she said again. “Go talk to your sister.”
Joe stared down at her. He’d never thought of it that way—that his continual refusal to accept Kerry’s choices could permanently cause damage, not only to her and Aaron’s relationship, but also to his relationship with his sister. Mac was right; it was too late to change Kerry’s mind—it’d always been too late. And now the decision was made, he didn’t have it in him to do anything to endanger the commitment they’d make to each other.
“I’ll go. She won’t be happy to see me, though,” he said.
MacKenna squeezed his arm and stepped aside. “Yeah, she’s still a little steamed. Just use some of that charming bedside manner; it got you back in my good graces last night.”
A smile cracked his face as he headed for the door. “Don’t be surprised if I’m back here in ten minutes with a bridal shoe jammed in my ear.”
He opened the door.
“Joe?”
He turned to look at Mac clutching the towel at her breasts, her damp hair spilling in tangles, her pretty face scrubbed clean of make up and looking so feckin’ beautiful that the moment would be forever stamped in his memory.
“Insider tip—if you need any more proof of Aaron’s feelings toward Kerry, ask her about her engagement ring.”
He nodded and stepped into the hallway, letting the door close slowly behind him. He made his way to the elevator bank, his heart thumping wildly. She genuinely cared about Kerry, that much was obvious. She cared about his sister’s happiness, and Joe’s own. Knew he’d be gutted if a wall came down between him and Kerry, between him and his family. She got how important they were to him—something Sofia never understood.
He shook it off as he descended the two floors to where his parents’ suite was. Kerry was still old-fashioned enough to spend her last night as a single woman away from her fiancé, so he wouldn’t see her on their wedding day. Joe knocked on their door, and his mam answered, dressed in an I heart Vegas tee shirt, green goop covering her face.
“Thought you were room service,” she said in lieu of greeting. “Bringing me a decent pot of tea.” She waved a dismissing hand and stepped aside so Joe could enter. “You’d think in a country of this size you could find a decent brew when you wanted one, but no. You can go shopping at three in the mornin’ and have two dozen choices of ice cream, but a cuppa tea? Near bloody impossible.”
“You all right, Mam? You’re looking a bit green on it,” he said.
His mam cuffed the back of his head as if he were still a cheeky teenager. “Eejit. You’ll be wanting to talk to Kerry, I imagine?”
“Yeah.”
She folded her arms, and even under the slimy green goop managed to look like a force to be reckoned with.
“Going to grovel or cause a ruckus?”
He smiled. “Definitely grovel. I’m not that big of an eejit.”
She looked down the length of her green nose. “You are if you can’t pull your head from your arse and tell MacKenna how you feel before she gets away.”
He swallowed hard. “Weren’t we talking about Kerry?”
“Kerry agrees.” A muffled voice came from behind the closed door of the suite’s second bedroom. “You’re a fool if you don’t tell her you’re in love with her.”
The bottom of his stomach fell out, and if he’d been a cartoon character, his jawbone would’ve hit the floor. He crossed to one of the suite’s armchairs and sat. Heavily. Because suddenly his legs weren’t working so well.
In love. With Mac?
The second bedroom door opened, and his sister, in a Vegas tee shirt that matched their mam’s, wandered out and headed for the minibar.
“What’s the matter with him, then?” Kerry said and pulled out a water bottle from the fridge. “Cat got his tongue?”
“Give your brother a moment. He’s processing.”
In love. With Mac.
“Processing?” Kerry made a choked, snorty sound in the back of her throat. “He looks as if he’s been hit by a two-by-four.”
“It’s a Whelan thing.” His mam crossed to the fridge and picked out a second water bottle. “We all get that stunned mullet expression when it dawns on us that we’ve found the one.”
In love. With MacKenna. Who was the one?
“Oh, it’s just dawning on him? He always was a little slow to catch on. I could’ve told him weeks ago he’d fallen arse over teakettle for Mac.”
“Whelan women are not so afraid of their feelings. Now the menfolk”—his mam chuckled—“have a harder time of it, until one moment the truth hits them, then boom. They’re lean, mean, marrying machines.” She cracked the lid on the water bottle and placed it on the coffee table in front of Joe.
He was in love. With MacKenna. Who was t
he one. Period.
It was completely, utterly doolally. But it was still true.
Kerry sipped her water thoughtfully. “You think he’s ready for that?”
Joe picked up the water bottle and gulped down a couple of cool swallows. “I can hear you, you know. And he didn’t come here to discuss his relationship with his girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée?” Kerry stage-whispered to their mam from the corner of her mouth.
“Shut up,” he said.
Kerry snickered and flipped him the bird. And just like that, the knot in his chest dissolved. Kerry would be okay. Whatever happened today or in the future, she’d be okay. Because she had three brothers who’d always have her back, and parents who loved them all even though the lot of them must be a giant pain in the arse at times.
He cleared his throat. “Mam, could I talk to Kerry alone?”
“Prefer to do your groveling in private, hmm?” She gave them a knowing maternal smile. “I’ll go wash this stuff off my face. Don’t you dare make your sister cry unless you’re prepared to fix a puffy-eyed bride afterward.”
“Noted.”
She disappeared into the master bedroom and shut the door.
Kerry sank into the armchair opposite his and tucked her feet up, resting her chin on her kneecaps. With no makeup on and her hair caught into a ponytail, she looked like the teenager he remembered on trips home from third year med school when she’d perch on the end of his bed and make him tell her if he puked during his cadaver dissection classes.
“You’ve come to give me your blessing?” she asked.
“Do you need it?” Joe leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“No.” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “No, I don’t need it. But I’d like it just the same.”
“Then you have it. I judged Aaron too quickly, and I disrespected everything I know to be true about you.”
Kerry gave him a long, examining look. “Did Mac tell you about our trip to the spa?”
“She told me she’d never again get a massage from a guy called Cody—does that count?” He shook his head. “She also told me to ask you about that ring on your finger, but slow as I may be, I figured it out on the way down here. A petrolhead like Aaron doesn’t sell his Camaro unless he’s really a hundred percent committed.”
Saying I Do (Stewart Island Series Book 8) Page 20