He nodded, and for a second looked like he was going to let things be. But he didn’t. “We were kids, Harrison. Will is almost forty.”
As if a person’s age mattered. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Yes, it is. You had the guts to stand up to Dad.”
The last thing I wanted to talk about was our father. “Look how that turned out. He’s not even coming to the wedding. You really want me to wish that on Will?”
“Oh, come on, his family is not going to boycott because he took a stand against having gold as his wedding color.”
That was probably true. If I was being honest, I’d tell Jasper that I suspected Will wanted the gold flowers nearly as much as his father. But that was how Will informed me, so that was how I presented it to my brother.
Jasper still wasn’t done. “And even if it is the case, better to be honest and upfront and pay the consequence. You did. You were honest with Dad, and sure, he’s not coming to the wedding, but at least you know where things stand, and you are your own man.”
I snorted out an unattractive laugh. Like I’d ever been my own man. But saying so would only hurt Jasper and be pointless. Jasper had been allowed to be his own man because I hadn’t. Hearing his accusation was like having it thrown in my face. It was all I could do to keep the words from spilling out of my mouth, so I focused on the other aspect of his argument. “I don’t know if the video of me dancing half-naked in a gay club spread across the country was exactly me taking a stand of honesty with Dad.”
“You could’ve lied. Made some excuse that Dad would’ve believed. Especially since he desperately wanted you to give one.”
“I was getting jerked off in the middle of the dance floor, Jasper. How do I lie about that one?”
He slumped even farther down in his seat, knowing he was defeated. “That part was blurred. You could’ve given another reason.”
“Oh, right. The ever-popular inner-thigh cramp. The quarterback for the Titans just happened to be strolling by a gay nightclub, gets a cramp, rushes inside and throws off his clothes and asks for help.” I shook my head. “Dad would’ve bought that hook, line, and sinker.”
Jasper grinned suddenly. “I don’t know. The inner-thigh-cramp story might’ve worked.”
I laughed, relieved to have the tension broken. “Guess we’ll never know.”
He chuckled softly as he shook his head and then took a spoonful of ice cream, gagged, and pushed the bowl away. “Dear Lord. This is worse than talking about Dad.”
On that, Jasper was most definitely wrong. And I was desperate enough for dessert that I kept going. I glanced around the small two-bedroom apartment above Jasper’s bookshop. Though I’d only spent the six months between my injury and living with Will in the space, the little apartment felt like home. I missed it. I tried to push the emotion away. I shouldn’t miss it. I’d moved in with the love of my life, the man I was getting ready to marry, and that home was the Lavender Shores equivalent of Snow White’s Castle, for crying out loud. I shouldn’t miss Jasper’s apartment.
“I think you should do it anyway. I mean, what are they going to do? Turn off the cameras?”
Jasper brought me back to the moment, and it took me a second to catch up. “I should do what anyway?”
“Stick a damn iris in your lapel and walk down the aisle. Paint it gold or don’t. They’re not going to stop the wedding. They’re doing it live.”
“I’m not walking down the aisle, remember? Neither of us is. Otherwise everyone will label whoever does as the bride.” I was hoping the reminder would elicit some sort of joke and distract.
No such luck. “Whatever. The point stands. No one will notice.”
They would. I was certain I’d see it in Will’s eyes during the entire ceremony. A look of betrayal, and I’d feel like a guilty piece of shit. Not at all what I wanted for my wedding. Or my relationship. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just the ceremony. Honestly, my biggest regret is that I didn’t dig up some of the irises from Dad’s backyard before he told me never to come back.”
Jasper finally let the wedding go and smiled sadly. “You and your flower obsession.”
“They were Mom’s favorite, especially the purple ones. That particular strain had been from her great-grandma. And now they’ll end with Dad. Luckily they’ll do just fine without him bothering to take care of them.” I could see them in my mind—the mass of irises bordering the fence of our backyard. The last time I’d been home, the yard had been a complete mess, but still they’d thrived.
Jasper sat up straighter. “Wait a minute. Mom’s irises? It’s obvious that’s what you’re thinking. I should’ve realized. Purple iris for Mom in your lapel.” He cocked his head. “You were talking about a bearded iris?”
“Obviously. That was Mom’s favorite.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m siding with the Epsteins and your stupid wedding planners. I was thinking one of those sleek little Japanese numbers. The bearded iris would look like you had a purple growth on your chest with a fuzzy caterpillar crawling out of it.”
“Well, the boutonniere wasn’t my first choice. I was hoping to have them spread throughout the wedding arrangements. Tucked into my lapel was a last resort.”
Still he grimaced.
I reached across the table and shoved his shoulder. “Don’t give me that face. Flowers were Mom’s and my thing. The two of you shared books. Like you’re not planning a wedding to match one of those in the J.R. Robb novels she loved so much.”
“Mom, save me from this moron.” Jasper cast his eyes skyward and gave an exaggerated sigh before counting off on his fingers. “Number one, it’s J.D. Robb. And Mom didn’t read those. She liked Nora Roberts. J.D. Robb is Nora’s pen name for her detective books.” He gave me a reprimanding look, one that managed to channel our mother after all these years. “And furthermore, even if I might be planning a wedding inspired by Nora, that doesn’t mean I’ll actually carry a damn stack of her books with me down the aisle.”
Holy fuck, I loved him. And double holy fuck, how I still missed Mom. “I think you should. Use one of Mom’s books instead of the pillow for the rings.”
Jasper blinked. “You know….” His voice cracked, and he had to take a second. “That’s a pretty great idea. Who knew football players were so romantic?”
We stared at each other. I didn’t have to ask to be sure; I was certain Jasper felt Mom’s presence around us as clearly as I did.
After a second, Jasper wiped his eyes and smiled. “When I get married, if I ever do, the wedding colors will be boysenberry and plum, and I’ll have purple irises everywhere for you.”
“Sorry I wasn’t up for sex tonight. The trip was exhausting.” Will angled himself to the corner of the couch and motioned for me to come closer. I did, positioning myself with my back leaned against his chest so he could drape his arm over me comfortably as we faced the television. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure. Tomorrow.” I knew chances were low sex would happen tomorrow. We hadn’t had sex since the airing of the first episode of Titan Passions. Though Will had been over the moon watching it, it seemed his stress had increased exponentially by the day ever since. “What do you want to watch?”
“I don’t care. Anything to turn off my brain.” He smoothed his hand over my chest, and I sank into his touch. “Anything but Food Network. I can’t handle being taunted by things I can’t have.”
Guilt tugged at me about the fake ice cream I’d shared with Jasper a couple of nights before. I didn’t mention it. Instead I snagged the remote from the arm of the sofa and began flicking through channels. I paused when I came across House Hunters International. The episode was in France. “Perfect. A preview of things we might see on our honeymoon.”
Our wedding date was scheduled for a year to the day Will and I had met. It had been a whirlwind romance with a proposal three months in and the filming of the show starting five months later. Even so, though there was no twinge or intake of bre
ath, I knew Will like the back of my hand, and I could feel the change in him.
“What is it?”
He paused his caress. “What’s what?”
I didn’t turn to face him, knowing that would only put him on the defensive. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
Will tensed, and I got ready for him to say it was nothing, but then he breathed out a soft laugh, and his hand began to stroke over my chest once more. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“I swear you know me better than I know myself sometimes.” He laughed again. “It’s almost kind of creepy.” He kissed the back of my ear, letting me know he was teasing. Though I knew he really wasn’t.
“I love you. You’re my fiancé. We know each other; that’s kind of how it works.”
He gave my ear another kiss and stayed silent.
I knew he wanted me to let the matter go, and maybe I should, too. I wasn’t sure. But my curiosity was too much. Or the anxiety growing in my chest was too intense. Who could say? “So, what is it?”
He sighed and ceased his stroking caress again. “We’re going to need to change our honeymoon.”
At that, I sat up and repositioned, so I could look him straight in the face. “We have to change our honeymoon? Is something wrong with our reservations?”
He shook his head, and even as he spoke, though he kept his voice neutral, I could see the result was going to be the same as my desire for irises. “No, nothing’s wrong. But the network called the other day. The ratings have been better than they expected on the show. They’re considering a follow-up. Showing our honeymoon.”
I took several moments before I responded, making sure I matched Will’s easy tone. “They’re going to be with us on our honeymoon, too?”
“Maybe. If ratings are good.” He smiled. “And I bet they will be.”
In the dark hours of the night, I’d been counting down the days to our wedding—both to be married to Will and to never see the filming crew again. I was used to being on camera, both during the games and for the modeling gigs, but having them follow us around during every moment of daily life had been draining. The thought of them intruding on our honeymoon when I was finally going to have Will back to normal after the ceremony and have him to myself was a little bit crushing. Then another thought hit me. “Hold on a minute. They’re going to wait to see how ratings are before they decide if they’re going to do a honeymoon episode or not?”
Will nodded.
After going through the period in between the signing of contracts and waiting for the filming to start, I knew exactly what that meant. “Then they want us to postpone our honeymoon until they know about the ratings.”
“Exactly.” And by that one word, I could tell that wasn’t all. Thankfully, Will didn’t make me wait. “If they do, they don’t think Paris is the best choice. They’re thinking somewhere tropical with a beach. You know. Swimsuits, our bodies on full display.” He attempted a flirtatious smile. “Can’t blame them for that, right?”
I suddenly felt so very old and so very tired. Guilt cut through me at that, too. Poor, poor me. I needed to show off my model-perfect body on a beach with the model-perfect man I loved. Talk about a rough life.
Maybe it was selfish, I couldn’t tell, but I really wanted a honeymoon to just be us. The beach was fine. I didn’t care where—Paris or otherwise.
Paris! I leaned forward at the thought. “Fine. Let’s do both. Let’s go on a honeymoon to Paris right after the wedding, like we planned, and then if they decide to do a second show, we can go somewhere tropical. Two honeymoons. Even better.”
“Actually….” There was that forced neutral tone again. “I think we should wait. There’s another conference coming up the week of our scheduled honeymoon that I really should be part of. It could be good for my career.”
I couldn’t find an answer. Couldn’t quite put my finger on what emotion I was feeling.
Numb. Maybe numb?
“There’s great news, however.” Will rushed forward, excitement cutting in his voice, and his beautiful eyes lit up as they hadn’t in a while. “They’re also thinking if the wedding ratings are good, and the honeymoon ratings match, they might do another whole show around us. Our first year of marriage, when we have kids, even when—”
“You don’t want kids.” I hadn’t meant to cut him off, but the words burst forth in a type of shock.
Will was speechless for a little bit. Then finally nodded. “True, but I’m having a change of mind. The network thinks it would be quite the draw.”
“The network?”
He didn’t give me a chance to keep going. “And my dad thinks it’s a great idea. Nick’s never going to have kids, or do anything else Dad wants. And Erica’s kids are wonderful, but Mom wants more grandchildren. More people to carry on the Epstein name.”
I’d never met Will’s older brother, Nick—he’d cut ties with the family—and try as I might, I hadn’t found too many redeeming qualities about his sister, Erica, though he was right; her kids were pretty great. But still. “But you don’t want kids. You said they would get in the way of your career.”
He shrugged. “They don’t have to. Plus, you’ll be home. It’s not like you have to play football anymore. And even if you find something else you might want to do, it’s not like we can’t afford a nanny.”
I gaped at him, speechless.
Will forced a smile. “Come on, stud, don’t give me that face. Come here.” He leaned forward, grasped my shoulder and gently pulled me toward him until I was once again cradled against his chest. “Don’t worry about all of that. None of it is decided. The only thing we’re doing right now is postponing a honeymoon for a few weeks. That’s all.”
Four
Adrian
The morning had been thick with fog, but by afternoon, the June sun had burned it away and left a beautiful summer day. Though the ocean was a few miles from Lavender Shores, the breeze carried the smell of salt and mixed with the scent of dirt, fertilizer, and sweat.
I breathed deep, taking it all in. A few months ago, this was everything. Sure, there were orders to fill, employees to manage, worries about the crops and making certain we didn’t accidentally get any pesticides from anywhere else ruining our organic label, but that was nothing.
One day I’d stood in the December sunshine and breathed the salt and the dirt and the fertilizer and my sweat. And everything changed.
Had it really only been six months? No, seven now? Meghan’s death changed the entire world. I wasn’t sure if a sister-in-law dying would affect most people so greatly. But it did me. Maybe it was the twin thing. Although, I think it affected my entire family. Either way, one day she’d been alive and healthy, and the next she was gone.
And now there was no going back.
I breathed again, trying to make the scents a part of me at a core level. Though, if they weren’t already, there was little hope.
“That look right there. You get it almost every time you’re out in the fields. Proof you were born to be a farmer.” I opened my eyes. I’d almost forgotten my friend and business partner was by my side. Micah smiled at me, sun-kissed face displaying an ease that didn’t used to be there. It seemed he and I had changed roles.
“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that? And don’t let my mother hear you say I was born to be a farmer. She’ll kick you out of town.”
“Oh, goody. Another founding family drama. Bring it on.” Micah rolled his eyes and waved off the concern before gesturing at our current problem. “I know it needs a lot of work, but I still think we shouldn’t bulldoze it.”
“What are we going to do with it? It’s right in the way of where we need to plant crops.” I glared at the glasshouse. At one point, the thing had been completely stunning, I was certain. And obviously nothing more than a plaything for the rich. It was too small to have ever produced anything more than decorative. That had been years ago, before it was left to its own devic
es in the elements. “Plus, the thing would cost more to fix up than to tear down. Probably five times as much.”
Micah crossed his arms and studied it. “Still, it seems like a waste.”
“You know, this is the last bit of land we can buy to expand the farm. We’re landlocked from here on out. We need to utilize every space for the business.” In truth, what little land the miniature greenhouse took up wouldn’t make much of a difference. But it was nice to have a problem that didn’t affect anyone’s heart.
“The Barlows sold us this much of their land.” Micah gestured toward the distance, where Rick and Mary Barlow’s house lay over the next rise. “They’re both ancient, with no kids. We’ll get the rest one day.”
“Morbid much?”
He shrugged and laughed. “I didn’t say I was wanting them to hurry on their way or anything.”
“Even if that’s true, and you agree to tear down the house, which I can’t imagine you being okay with, it isn’t much land to add to the farm.” I scowled at the glasshouse. “I think the roof is copper under all those vines. We could make a good penny from selling that alone.”
Micah tried another tactic. “Moses was out here the other day. Right after we closed on the property. He thought it would make a great studio.”
“Seriously? You think your nephew is going to come all the way out here, walk through the fields, just to work on his sketches in this dump?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I waved off whatever Micah was getting ready to say. “Never mind. I can totally see Moses doing that. But the boy just graduated. He’s heading to his fancy art school in the fall.”
“I’m just saying it’s an option.” Micah sucked in an exaggerated breath. “Oh, I know! We can fix it up and rent it out as a weekend cottage. Make a killing. At least until all the hype dies down from Titan Passions. Hell, tiny houses have been all the rage the past several years. We could find another TV-ready hot gay couple, lock them in, and pitch it to the network as a new series. We could call it… Naked and Cramped, Behind Glass.”
The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6) Page 4