by Jane Porter
But was there a bride who didn’t feel emotional? Was it such a bad thing to be a tiny bit apprehensive? She wasn’t a twenty-two year old virgin. She was a mother, and it’d been just her and TJ for years. Now she was moving her boy into a new home, another man’s home. Thank goodness Lawrence wasn’t like those testosterone driven alpha males who were all weird and territorial about raising another man’s child. He wanted to be a good stepfather. He wanted to do scouting with TJ and teach him to fish and how to throw a ball.
Not that Lawrence could actually throw a football. Or catch a pop up ball. But her brothers could teach TJ those things. Her brothers were tough and testosterone-fueled. What TJ needed was Lawrence’s quiet strength. His calm, his self-control.
So, no, Lawrence Joplin wasn’t a he-man, cowboy, athlete, bar room brawler. But he was invested in the community, and constantly giving back, which made him the right example for TJ Sheenan. The right example for a little boy who was growing up with his biological dad in jail.
“You look beyond beautiful,” Paige said, giving McKenna’s silk train a shake to make sure it didn’t wrinkle. “Simply gorgeous,” she added, adjusting the long veil to float above the gleaming white silk.
McKenna looked at her reflection in the antechamber’s oval mirror, thinking she’d taken so many photographs of brides in this very spot, doing one last make up check before leaving the dressing room for the church. It was a bit surreal being the bride herself today, and not the photographer. She was far more comfortable being in the background than in the starring role.
Paige kept up a steady stream of chatter to try to distract McKenna. “TJ looked adorable. I love tuxedos on little boys, so cute.” Paige had been McKenna’s best friend for the past two years, from practically the moment she arrived in Marietta with her two young children in tow.
“I hope he’s behaving,” McKenna answered.
Paige grinned. “He’s trying his best.”
McKenna smiled ruefully. “Are my brothers losing their minds?”
“Not too badly. And your brothers seem up for the challenge.”
“I think they wish he had more Douglas in him and less Sheenan.”
“But you love that little boy because he’s all Sheenan.” Paige leaned in and gave McKenna a warm hug. “Now don’t be sad,” she added, her voice dropping. “This is a happy day. You’re marrying your best friend. Lawrence is as steady as a rock. You know he’ll always be there to take care of you.”
Paige was right. Lawrence was exactly that—steady and reliable. A tad conservative, too, but she’d learned the hard way that conservative was better than crazy-ass wild. “I just hope that he’ll always be as patient with TJ as he is now, because a spirited five year old is one thing, but a sassy or sarcastic thirteen year old is another.”
“You’ll just have to work hard to make sure TJ doesn’t get sassy or sarcastic—”
“If he’s anything like his dad, he’s not going to be a saint, and you to have admit, he’s the spitting image of Trey.”
“I haven’t actually met Trey, but I know Troy, and yes, TJ is a miniature of his uncle Troy.”
“If only he acted like Troy…instead he’s wild. Wild like Trey.”
“Wild and adorable,” Paige retorted. “The cutest kindergarten kid ever, with an incredible sense of humor.”
McKenna smiled a watery smile. “He does have a good sense of humor.”
“Yes. He’s hilarious. And he just needs a good kind father figure, a father who is there.” Paige hesitated, picking her words carefully. “Is this about…Trey?”
“No!” McKenna shook her head. “No.”
“You’re sure? Because it’s not too late—”
“I’m sure.” McKenna’s voice hardened. “Absolutely sure. At least, with regards to him. He had his chance. He had dozens of chances. He’s not an option. At all. In any way.”
Paige reached for the box of tissues and pulled two soft sheets. “Look up,” she said, before dabbing beneath McKenna’s eyes. “I know you two had a stormy relationship, but he is TJ’s dad.”
“Then he should have acted like TJ’s dad. He should have been careful. He should have been responsible. He should have put his family first.”
The door to the dressing room opened, organ music swelled in the background, and Rory Douglas, McKenna’s oldest brother, stuck his head inside the dressing room. “I think they’re ready for you, Kenna,” he said.
And just like that, the butterflies were back. McKenna placed a hand across her stomach, calming the flutter followed by a wave of nausea. Coffee with weak toast probably wasn’t the breakfast of champions. “How’s TJ?”
“Looking sharp.” Rory crossed the floor, caught her in a quick hug. “And you, Kenna, you’re one hell of a beautiful bride. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you.”
And just like that, the tears were back, and the knot of hot emotion. She clung to her handsome big brother, fingers digging into his arms, needing the support. “I miss them,” she whispered against his chest. “I miss them so much, Rory.”
“I know, kiddo. I know.” His voice dropped low, his tone husky. “But I’m sure they are here with us today. I’m sure they’re looking down on you, as proud as anything.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, Kenna, I do.” He stepped back and kissed her on her forehead. “Now no more tears. You don’t want to mess up all that make up.” He glanced at Paige who was picking up McKenna’s heavy train. “Does this mean we’re ready?”
McKenna smiled through her tears. “I think so.”
“Then I’ll round up TJ and meet you in the vestibule.”
Chapter Three
‡
Trey sat in his truck in front of Marietta’s St. James Church watching the second hand on his watch, aware of every passing minute.
Two minutes after four o’clock.
Three minutes after four o’clock.
If the four o’clock candlelight wedding had started on time, McKenna would already be down the aisle, at the front of the church, getting ready to say I Do in front of Marietta’s most respectable citizens.
It would be a beautiful ceremony. The bridesmaids would probably be wearing red. It was a Christmas wedding after all.
Four minutes after four o’clock.
If he was going to do this, it had to be now, before she’d said her vows.
He grimaced, aware that his appearance would be problematic. McKenna was not going to be happy to see him. No one was going to be pleased by his appearance…not even Troy, who was sitting inside with his librarian girlfriend.
Common sense and decency forbad him from interrupting McKenna’s wedding.
But Trey apparently had neither.
He glanced down at his watch. Five minutes after four o’clock.
If he was going to do this, he had to do it.
He drew a deep breath, feeling the snug blazer pull across his shoulders. The jacket was too tight. The trousers a little too fitted. It wasn’t his suit. It was Troy’s, and if the hand sewn label inside the jacket was any indication, very expensive.
He didn’t have to dress up today. One didn’t need to be in formal wear to interrupt a wedding, but he wanted to be respectful. This was McKenna’s big day. So he’d borrowed his brother’s suit, and paired it with a black dress shirt, but had passed on the tie—he wasn’t a tie guy. He was wearing black boots with the suit because those were the only dress shoes he owned, but he did feel a bit like Johnny Cash, The Man in Black.
Today the black shirt wasn’t a fashion statement.
Today he’d dressed for a funeral. McKenna marrying Lawrence was an end…the death of a dream. But he wasn’t going into the church to fight, or to protest. He just wanted to speak to McKenna, to make sure she’d recognize his rights as TJ’s father. Because he could maybe—just maybe—accept losing McKenna, but he couldn’t wrap his head around losing TJ.
TJ was his boy. His son. His flesh and blood.
&nbs
p; He loved that boy, too. Fiercely. Completely.
But that didn’t matter in a court of law. Not when McKenna had sole custody, just as she’d had sole custody from the beginning, and let’s face it, no judge would ever take him from his mother, not when the mother was as good as McKenna, and the father as rotten as Trey Sheenan. Or so said Judge McCorkle when he gave McKenna sole custody all those years ago.
Six minutes after four o’clock.
He hadn’t slept last night. Couldn’t sleep after failing to find McKenna earlier in the evening. And even though Troy and Dillon had warned him off, Trey had gone looking for her. He had to. He had to talk to her—not just about her choosing Lawrence, but about TJ, and what would happen to TJ once she married another man. So after showering and changing at the ranch house yesterday afternoon, he’d grabbed the keys to his truck—which still ran thanks to his brothers taking care of it—and headed back to Marietta to try to find McKenna.
He’d searched for her without success. She and TJ no longer lived in the old apartment complex, the one by the Catholic church. Part of him was glad—it was a crappy neighborhood—but he didn’t know where they’d gone and the few folks he asked either didn’t know or weren’t about to tell him.
But she had to be somewhere. She was getting married the next afternoon, which meant there had to be a rehearsal dinner someplace that night in Marietta. Maybe at Beck’s, or one of the other nice new restaurants that had opened in the last few years, or at the Graff, not that he could see any sign of McKenna or a wedding party there.
It was possible they were doing a BBQ dinner at one of the fancy barns, or even hosting the dinner in Livingston or Bozeman.
Trey had been sure Troy knew, and Dillon, too. But they weren’t talking.
In the end, Trey had gone to bed at midnight and spent most of the night lying on his back staring up at the beamed ceiling of his bedroom, trying to imagine the future without McKenna and TJ, aware that he’d be lucky to see his son a couple days a month.
Trey, who had a cast iron stomach and nerves of steel, had thrown up again in the middle of the night.
If only he’d been able to talk to her.
If only he’d been able to have a chance to plead his case, asking her to consider joint custody, asking her to promise more visitation time…
She needed to know how much TJ meant to him.
He glanced out the window, up at the sky. The sun was dropping, shifting, soon to disappear behind the mountains, leaving Marietta in darkness. He looked from the sky to his watch. Eight minutes after four.
If he didn’t do something soon, it’d be too late.
If he hoped to state his case, it had to be now.
But he dreaded what was to come. He dreaded making her unhappy. She wouldn’t appreciate him interrupting the wedding, creating drama. Even he could see the pattern there. Trey = Chaos. Trey = Shame.
But he wasn’t doing this because he wanted to embarrass her. He was doing what he had to do to protect his rights as a father, even if he was only allowed to be that father on a part-time basis.
It was now or never. And God help him, but he couldn’t handle forever without his boy, so it looked like the time was now.
Trey shook down his sleeve, covering the watch, and opened the truck door.
Things were going to get interesting fast.
*
McKenna stood at the back of the church, trembling in her high heels, praying no one knew she was about to wobble her way to the altar. This was supposed to be a slow and stately procession down the aisle, but she didn’t feel stately at the moment, not with her legs shaking and her knees knocking.
It was the blasted Wedding March that made her shake. Those loud, bright chords so familiar to all. The entire congregation had risen to their feet at the first one, heads swiveling to the back, one hundred and fifty pairs of eyes fixing on her.
She’d smiled to hide her terror.
She wasn’t an exhibitionist. She’d never liked being the center of attention. This was definitely a lot of attention.
Rory covered her fingers where they rested in the crook of his arm and gave an encouraging squeeze. “Buck up,” he said with his deep, low-pitched voice. “You got this.”
She flashed him a smile, a real smile, some of her tension easing. “This is crazy,” she whispered. “So many people.”
“All here for you, darlin’.”
And then they were walking, and she wobbled in her heels, but not as badly as she’d feared. She pulled her shoulders back with every step, standing taller, her attention on Lawrence and TJ where they stood together at the front of the church.
TJ was wriggling away from Lawrence, trying to escape.
Lawrence’s hand rested on TJ’s shoulder, trying to keep him in place.
In a flash, McKenna saw the future, realizing that this was how it’d always be. They were so different, those two. TJ would always pull one way and Lawrence would pull the other. She’d have to be careful not to get caught in the middle. She’d have to learn to be neutral so that she didn’t put herself in the middle.
And then she was there, with Lawrence and TJ and all the groomsmen before the altar, the dark wood pews filled with family and friends behind her.
The music died.
The priest spoke a few words and Rory placed her hand into Lawrence’s and stepped away.
Rory stepping away was significant. She was leaving the Douglas family to start a new life as a Joplin. Her chest squeezed with a rush of emotion. Her life was changing. Everything was changing. She was glad. But it was also somewhat overwhelming—
“Wait. Stop.” A deep voice rang out from the back of the church. “I’d like a word with McKenna.”
She knew that voice.
But he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be. He was in jail.
Wasn’t he?
Heart thudding, she pulled her hand from Lawrence’s to turn around, aware that the church had gone strangely quiet. No music. No voices. Nothing but Trey in the middle of the red carpeted aisle, and candles flickering on the lip of each of the stained glass windows.
Dark handsome Trey, still so tall and lean and intimidating even in an expensive black suit and black dress shirt.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. For a moment she just looked at him, gaze locking with his.
Trey.
Here.
Now.
For a moment all she could do was drink him in as the past fell away and the future disappeared and there was nothing but now. And he looked more beautiful now than ever before. Her beautiful Trey.
Her beautiful destructive Trey.
He’d had this effect on her from the very beginning…such a fierce, visceral reaction. A recognition so deep that she couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t felt devastatingly important. Just one look into his eyes and she felt connected, connected deep, all the way through her heart and tissue and bones.
No one had ever understood her love, or attraction. Friends had rolled their eyes when she said she felt connected to his soul…
It wasn’t normal, they said. Wasn’t healthy.
But that was how it had always been with them.
Deep and fierce…a love that was all consuming. A love that was endless.
“Momma.” TJ was suddenly there at her side, his small fingers snaking into her left hand as she clutched her bouquet in the right. “Is that…is that—”
“Hello, Tiger.” Trey’s deep voice seemed to rumble from his chest. The corners of his mouth lifted but his expression looked pained.
Haunted.
“Daddy?” TJ whispered.
McKenna’s eyes burned. Her pulse continued to race. “This isn’t the time, Trey,” she said quietly, and yet in the hush of the church, her voice carried, clear, loud.
“If you’ll excuse us—”
“I need five minutes.”
Rory was on his feet. “You don’t have five minutes.”
Quinn rose, tall a
nd broad, next to Rory. “Think you need to see yourself out, Sheenan.”
Trey didn’t even glance at her brothers. His gaze rested squarely on McKenna and TJ. “Five minutes,” he repeated.
“I don’t want this to be ugly,” Rory said, leaving the pew, moving towards McKenna.
She lifted a hand to stop him. She had to control this. Her brothers would just make it worse. “TJ’s waited a long time to see you,” she said, voice husky. “Protect him now.”
Trey winced and glanced down at TJ, a shadow crossing his features. She saw pain in his eyes, regret, too, and she had to steel herself against the wave of emotion slamming into her, because Trey had made a lot of mistakes in his life but he had always adored his baby boy. He had always been so patient and sweet with TJ.
“Can we just step out and speak for a moment?” Trey asked, looking back up at her, looking straight into her eyes.
She started to shake her head. She started to tell him no but she could feel his anguish and his love for TJ, and it made her eyes burn and her throat swell closed.
She should hate him for what he’d put them through, but she couldn’t hate him. Couldn’t hate him when her little boy looked just like him, and walked like him, and talked like him. TJ was Trey in miniature…
She glanced at Lawrence, who’d come from the front of the church to stand behind her, somber and protective. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” she said crisply, before squaring her shoulders and marching back down the aisle, head high, refusing to make eye contact with any of the guests who’d been breathlessly observing the drama unfolding.
*
Outside as McKenna faced him, Trey could tell she was fighting mad, her green eyes flashing, her high cheekbones a vivid pink.
She’d always been beautiful, but with her dark red hair swept up and covered by the tiara and veil, leaving her neck and shoulders bare, she looked ethereal and fragile, almost too delicate for the white silk wedding gown with the fitted bodice and full tulle skirt.
“You’re thin,” he said, frowning at her.