Maybe I Do

by Nicole McLaughlin

  A light touch on Charlotte’s shoulder had her turning to find the mother of the bride standing there with a smile. She surprised both Charlotte and Lauren by handing them fifty-dollar bills and thanking them for putting in such a long day. They rarely got cash tips, but it was always a treat when they did.

  When the conversation ended, Charlotte disappointedly found the bar empty. It wasn’t like him to let her leave without a good-bye, and now it frustrated her to think their conversation about her work had possibly turned him off.

  She and Lauren headed back to the little powder room to get the rest of their gear packed up. Trying to focus on a hot shower and sleep, Charlotte forced herself to look casual as they made their way toward the old metal elevator. Of course she was hoping to catch sight of Dean before they left. He was nowhere.

  When they stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby, it was also void of Dean and his handsome face. How had such a fun evening taken such a depressing turn? With a heavy sigh, she recalled she had another job at the Stag for the following weekend. There was always another wedding.

  Three

  Dean Troyer sat down in his kitchen and propped his laptop on the scarred wood table in front of him. As soon as he opened the Skype window and saw his own reflection—and the cluttered counters behind him—he cringed. Not gonna work.

  Grabbing the computer, he stood and went around to the other side of the table. From that angle, a harsh light hit his face from the living room window. Groaning, he glanced at the clock. Three minutes. Computer in hand once again, he sat on the couch. He turned and quickly fluffed the pillows, arranged the blanket his sister had knitted him years ago behind him—she’d like that—and then blew out a deep breath. He glanced at his watch. One minute until his impromptu call with his little sister.

  The computer alerted him of the incoming Skype call and a giant grin instantly broke out on Dean’s face. She’d promised in her email last night that she was completely fine and not to worry, but he couldn’t help wondering what she needed to tell him that could not have been said in the original note. When it came to his little sister, worrying had always been a full-time job.

  He’d been fifteen when Alexis was born. Full of pubescent male rage and attitude, all made worse by the fact that his mother had divorced his father and married a man nearly twenty years his junior and eight years hers. Dean had hated his stepfather, if he could even have been called that, so when his mother got pregnant he’d been prepared to hate their offspring, too. That had proved to be impossible, because the minute he’d held tiny baby Alexis, he’d loved her.

  She was now an adult and serving her second tour in the Middle East, and he couldn’t wait for her to come home. Three more months and she’d be back safe for good, finally done with her commitment to the army. He was proud as hell of her, always had been, but it was crazy nerve racking for her to be doing something so dangerous.

  They hadn’t done a video call in several weeks. Not since she’d told him about her engagement to Nathan, her boyfriend of two years. He clicked to accept her call now, and the minute she came through he breathed a sigh of relief at seeing her whole and healthy. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her eyes bright with excitement.

  “Bean!” She’d called him Bean since she could speak. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, Buzz. How are you?”

  “I’m wonderful.”

  They chatted briefly about unimportant things. The weather, how the Stag was doing, and she asked about Dean’s father.

  “I’m counting down the days till July. Ready to have you both home,” Dean said.

  “Nowhere near as ready as I am. However…” She smiled but it quickly went solemn. “Dean, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He sucked in a breath before responding. “Alex, don’t even tell me…”

  Her face was pained. “I’m so sorry. I know you’ll be disappointed, but Nathan and I both decided that while we’re young we might as well let the government pay for us to travel.”

  Dean’s head nodded repeatedly—a nervous reaction. He sure as hell wasn’t yet in agreement, just … processing. He’d been afraid this might happen. “Where?”

  “Italy. The air force offered Nate a job there and … well, I asked if I could be assigned there also. They said yes.”

  “Well, of course they did. If you’re willing to give the army more years of your life, they aren’t going to talk you out of it.”

  “Dean,” she whispered. “Please don’t be mad.”

  The sadness in her voice forced him to get it together. “I’m sorry, Buzz. I’m not mad. I just … worry about you. And I miss you.”

  She smiled. “I miss you. But Italy…”

  He sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s somewhat of a relief. Why does the US military need to be in Italy anyway?”

  She laughed. “The US military thinks it needs to be everywhere, and with attacks on the rise—”

  “Uh-uh-uh. That’s enough. I’d rather imagine my little sister eating pizza and going to the Love, or whatever.”

  Alex grinned and shook her head. “It’s the Louvre, and it’s in Paris, France, genius.”

  “Ah, well, I was just testing you.” Dean scratched at the back of his neck. “How long?”

  “A year. And then we’re out for good. Both of us. We’ll be ready for kids by then. It will be perfect timing.”

  “I’m not sure if perfect is how I would describe it but I will choose to trust your judgment. You tell Nathan he’d better keep you safe.”

  “He always does, although you do know I outrank him?” She smiled and then reached off camera. “He’s here with me.”

  Dean sat up straighter as Nate’s face leaned into the camera’s view. The guy looked a little like a young Jamie Foxx and had the charm of a southern gentleman seeing as he’d grown up in Georgia.

  “Hello, Dean,” Nate said with a small wave. Then he drawled, “I promise to take care of Alex as I always do.”

  “Oh please.” Alexis teasingly shoved Nate out of the screen, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  Dean chuckled as he watched them grin at each other, feeling old and very alone. He remembered being that happy and in love. Blissful ignorance he now realized. He could only hope that his sister and Nate would be luckier than he and his ex-wife had.

  Alex was now twenty-five. Seemed like just yesterday Dean was twenty-five himself, watching her in a dance recital. Teaching her how to fish. Eventually taking her in during her teen years after their mother and her father had died. He’d raised her after that, and in many ways Dean felt less like a fun and cool sibling and more a combination of bossy big brother and Dad.

  “So, there’s only one problem with this change in plans, Dean.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Our wedding.”

  Dean shrugged. “So you postpone things, right? It will be fine, Alex. We’ll do whatever we need to do.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. And while we could wait, we don’t want to. When we move to Italy we want to live on the base as a married couple. Use married housing.”

  “Well, okay … then you get married before you go.”

  “Right, but that means we have to get married while we’re home in July.” Her expression implied that she thought Dean was a little slow on the uptake. “We will only have two weeks’ leave. And currently I’m on the other side of the planet, Dean, and we start a month-long mission in a week. Soo … remember how much you love me…” Alexis made a worried face.

  “Alex, whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

  “Bean, I need you to plan my wedding.”

  * * *

  “So you’re playing bride for her?” TJ asked Dean. They headed for the old freight elevator that led to the second floor of the Stag. Normally they would have taken the back staircase, but a rolling cart of Forkhorn White Whiskey and Ten Point Vodka bottles needed to go up to the bar for this evening’s event.
Usually their bartender Jen did the stocking, but she was late. Not a surprise.

  “I prefer the term doing her a favor.”

  “Okay, a favor where you play bride for her.”

  Dean sighed. “It appears so.”

  “You know three months to plan a wedding is sort of unreasonable, right?”

  Dean shrugged as he slid the metal door open and held it while TJ rolled the cart in, the wood and metal clanking beneath it. Pulling the heavy door closed, Dean pushed the UP button. “I have to do the best I can. I figured with Tara’s help—”

  TJ winced as the lift jerked to life. “Shit, I forgot to tell you. Tara found out yesterday she has pre … something or other. Some serious pregnancy issue. She has to take some time off to go on partial bedrest until she can deliver in July.”

  “What?” Pregnancy complications always pulled at Dean’s heart, reminding him of all the struggles he and Amy experienced trying—and failing repeatedly—to conceive. He didn’t wish it on anyone. “How did this happen? I thought she was doing great.”

  Tara had been the first bride at the Stag. She’d been responsible for spreading the word early on, which had snowballed out of control. It had made sense to hire her as their resident wedding coordinator and front desk helper. When she’d announced the news that she and her husband, Ben, were expecting, Dean, Jake, and TJ had been thrilled for them. The thought that something could go wrong left a pit in Dean’s stomach.

  “Her doctor says it’s not completely uncommon but it has to be taken very seriously. She must be off her feet to ensure everything is okay. Obviously, whatever is best for her and the baby takes priority, so the three of us are basically going to have to step in where she left off and pick up the slack until this fall when she comes back. And considering Jake will be on the festival tour for a good chunk of July and August, that pretty much leaves the two of us.”

  “Shit,” he muttered to himself, his anxiety going on red alert at that thought. Although he attended his share of their wedding events, he’d never had a hand in working with the couples or any of the planning. His main job had always been the spirits. Part of the reason he’d so easily agreed to grant Alexis’s request was because he’d just assumed he’d have Tara’s help.

  After TJ opened the lift, Dean pushed the cart off the elevator and followed him to the bar. “Do we need to hire someone temporary to do Tara’s job?” Dean asked.

  “I thought about that. But who wants a temporary job that has such a learning curve? She offered to do the work from home but Ben called and informed me that the doctor had emphasized how important it was that she relax and not stress to keep her blood pressure in check.”

  “Yeah, no, I’m completely in agreement with Ben. Tara has to focus on herself. If anything happened to that baby…” Dean turned away, rubbing at his chin. His co-owners knew he’d been married, and knew Amy, but they had no clue how painful their life together had been. Something he had no intention of sharing.

  “It will be fine,” TJ said as he began to move the bottles of vodka to the back of the bar. Dean hated that they all saw him as the worrier of the group, but it was just his nature. “I think I can handle the wedding side of things, but that will take me away from helping you, so I will say again, you need to hire a distilling assistant. Especially now that you’re playing bride. Putting it off is really no longer an option.”

  His co-owners had been bugging him to do that for a while, and Dean wasn’t sure why he kept resisting. The three of them had set up their roles in the business early on, and while they all had learned to help one another when needed, they mostly stayed in their own lanes. Didn’t micromanage one another, and that had worked.

  TJ was the business and money mind. He kept the books, dealt with banks, and made sure all the bills were paid. Jake oversaw their marketing, and for the first time, this year they were sending him on a music festival road trip in a vintage RV they’d decked out and affectionately named The Stag Wagon. They hoped it would help get the word out about their product in other regions.

  Dean’s job was to make the product. Sure, they all loved the spirits and brainstormed together, but he was the one overseeing production day in and day out. The one who knew how to tell when the mash had cooked long enough, properly use the distiller, and sniff out the heads from the tails. TJ was a great helper, but Dean knew that someone else needed to be trained to do what he did. For some reason, he just wasn’t making that happen, although his body was urging him to cut it some slack.

  “I do want to hire someone. I know it’s necessary. I just keep thinking I’ll know when I find the right person. Plus, I’m not sure this chaotic time is the right time to introduce someone into the fold.”

  “We’ve been in controlled chaos since we started, so that’s not an excuse. You’re stalling. And you’re never going to find that right person if you don’t put some feelers out.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Dean inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh flowers filling his nose. He looked around the room and took in the scene. Gleaming wood floors ran the length of the entire second floor, and at least twenty circular tables dotted the perimeter. Hanging above the beautiful room was a massive and intricate chandelier made of deer antlers. They’d paid nearly three thousand dollars for the handmade piece from a guy in Tennessee they’d found online. There was a tiny replica downstairs that had cost a third of that, and they’d both been worth every penny.

  The left side of the space housed a large stone fireplace that was bracketed by rows of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the town square. This room—the second floor of their turn-of-the-twentieth-century building—was rustically beautiful and elegant. As soon as they’d purchased the space and seen the expansive upstairs, they’d known it could be used for something. When someone suggested renting it out as an event venue, they’d figured it would be a good way to bring in additional revenue for the business, especially since their premier product would take five years to age in oak barrels before it could turn a profit. None of them had anticipated it being so popular that brides booked them two years in advance. They’d continued to make vodka and white whiskey, neither of which required the aging process, and with those products in addition to the wedding events, they’d done quite well for themselves.

  Dean had been hesitant at first about promoting themselves as a true wedding venue, but for all his concerns, it was no doubt a large reason they were still in business. For one, the weddings brought in revenue that made it possible for the company to be highly profitable while ensuring their core product was the best it could be. Plenty of start-up distilleries had gone under before their highest-quality offerings completed the aging process. Plus, they served their unaged liquor at the wedding receptions, meaning every weekend they earned new fans. It really was a perfectly symbiotic marketing scheme.

  On top of that, even Dean could admit that the Stag offered a beautiful location for a wedding reception. He was grateful to be able to give that gift—a lovely wedding—to his little sister. If only the planning of it didn’t terrify him. Of course his little sister had offered her own suggestion, one that made him very uncomfortable.

  “Alexis thought I should ask Amy to help me plan her wedding.”

  TJ froze and met Dean’s eyes. He set a bottle down on the bar with a little too much force. “Tell me you’re not considering that.”

  “Well, I hadn’t been, but now without Tara, maybe I should.”

  “Ah, man. I think that’s bad news, because she would do it, you know,” TJ said, shaking his head. “Anything to be with you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. You give that woman an inch and she’d climb you like a tree.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Although they both knew his words were false. “She left me, remember?”

  “Oh no. Don’t give me that nonsense. You’ve said yourself she’s been trying to get you back for years. Woman found out the grass on the other side is only greener because it’s full of dogshit.”

 
; Dean couldn’t help laughing at that as he and TJ walked around to the front of the bar.

  “Alex and Amy are still close.”

  “I get that, I do. So why didn’t she just ask Amy to plan the wedding?”

  Good question. “Probably because Amy’s a little controlling. I’m sure she also didn’t want me to be upset.”

  While Alexis didn’t know all the details of Dean’s divorce, she knew it hadn’t ended well. There’d been a lot of fighting and bitterness at the end.

  “I suppose you’re paying for this wedding?” TJ asked.

  Dean sighed, moving a tray of pint glasses. “Alex and Nate have about seven thousand, and his parents are contributing here and there. I’ll cover whatever else needs to be done.”

  “You’re a good brother,” TJ said, and he meant it—Dean could see that in his expression.

  “Thanks, but you would have done the same.”

  “Maybe. But I’m the youngest, remember, so I would have been the one hoping that one of my siblings would have stepped up. They’re both selfish as hell so thank God I never had to put their love for me to the test.”

  “They love you,” Dean said, but only because it seemed like the right thing to say. TJ came from an odd family. Not that Dean had much room to talk, but TJ’s family was wealthy, cold, and always seemed to compete with one another. Something Dean could not relate to at all.

  TJ grunted and moved some stacks of shot glasses around beneath the bar. It was still funny to Dean that he ran this business with two other guys so unlike himself. They’d met at the brewery he used to work at. The two younger guys—who had been buddies in high school—had come for a tour, which Dean had guided.

  Afterward they’d sat around the bar tasting blond ales and unfiltered wheats, while discussing their shared true love of bourbon and whiskey. When Dean informed them that he knew how to make spirits, had actually built a distiller once with his grandfather, Jake had joked that he should quit the brewery and they should all open their own business. An odd silence had followed; then they’d begun to throw out ideas. One thing led to another, information was exchanged, and nearly seven years later, here they were, that crazy idea now a successful business.