“You’re not intruding.” His mother came around from behind the kitchen island, wiping her hands on her apron. “It’s a family dinner and you are part of this family.”
She hugged him. She’d started doing that the last couple days and he’d started letting her. Then she took his hand and dragged him farther into the room, pushing him onto one of the bar stools.
He was trying. It wasn’t easy breaking a decade-long habit, but he was trying. However, that didn’t extend to having a couples meal where his parents made eyes at each other. “You sure? Because if you and Dad need some alone time...” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence or look his mother in the eye. Christ, this was embarrassing. Perhaps dinner together was one step too many. He should head back down to the guesthouse and eat the leftover pizza from the night he’d had Jamie over.
His mother reached out and put her hand over his. “You’re not leaving. Harrison?” She turned her head to call upstairs. “Please come down here and tell your son he’s not leaving.”
His father came downstairs, his mustache twitching happily, and proceeded to wrap his arms around his ex-wife’s waist and plant a kiss on her cheek. Then frowned at his son. “You’re not leaving.” He looked at his ex-wife for approval.
Beck frowned. “I’m telling you right now, if you start making out in front of me, I am leaving.” And quite possibly never coming back. Ever.
“We’re not going to make out,” his mother said. “Offer your son a drink, Harrison.”
So Beck stayed and had a beer with his father while his mother put the finishing touches on her lasagna and poured herself a glass of wine. He even started to relax. His parents didn’t avoid touching each other, not exactly, but they didn’t cuddle or make kissy noises at each other either, for which he was truly grateful.
The meal was delicious. The lasagna was hot, the bread fresh and the wine full-bodied. By the time they’d finished, Beck felt better. He even agreed to stay for coffee. They settled in the great room, in front of the massive stone fireplace. His parents sat on the couch while Beck took a chair across from them.
“That’s too bad Poppy couldn’t stay,” his mother said, sipping her coffee. “Did she have to get back to the city for work?”
“I think so.” He stirred in some cream, stirred again. He hadn’t asked.
He’d taken her back to her parents’ place this morning. At first, he’d thought he was off the hook. She hadn’t brought up the future after her attempt the night before, and the little bundle of nervous energy in his stomach eased. They were on the same page. She got it, got that he wasn’t a good risk. He’d even begun thinking they could reconnect when he headed up to Vancouver next month.
They were both adults, both single. There was no reason they couldn’t enjoy one another’s company while he was in town. Much as they’d done this week.
And then she’d said, “So when do you think you can come up for a weekend?”
He’d stuttered like an imbecile and mumbled something about lawyers and real estate and needing to spend some time at the hotel in Seattle, which was a joke. The Seattle hotel could run itself and had been doing so for years.
She’d smiled and looped her arms around his waist. “Well, I’ll have to check my schedule with Wynn’s, but I think I could come to you instead.”
It was a perfectly nice, perfectly lovely offer. She wasn’t saying she expected a house and a dog and an offer of marriage. But Beck saw it in her eyes. She wanted more. She was telling him she wanted more. And she was nervous he didn’t feel the same way.
His heart had sunk. Because he’d known then. Known what he should do. Known what he owed her. And he’d still said, “Yeah, that sounds great.”
Because he was too cowardly to tell her he wasn’t a good bet, wasn’t a good choice and wasn’t the right guy for her. He was afraid she might convince him to try anyway.
She could do it. She was the only person he’d ever met who had the capability to make him question his choice to stay single, which scared him. Because things wouldn’t work out and then he’d really have ruined her.
He wished he were more like Jamie, the eternal optimist, who looked for and found the best in everyone and every situation. Jamie had dived right into the marriage game without any doubts. Even Beck’s parents, who overlooked the multiple failures in their pasts, went for it. But he was too cynical for that and too aware of the damage those failures could cause.
He wouldn’t be the one to dim the light in Poppy’s eyes.
“Well,” his mother said, “it’ll be nice for you to spend time with her when you come up to oversee the hotel renovations.”
He planned to spend the three months necessary to get the hotel into shape living in the city. His parents had informed him over dinner they intended to settle in Vancouver permanently. His mother had lived there during university and had moved back after the demise of her last marriage. Beck wondered if that, more than wanting to slow down, had been the reason for his father’s retirement last year. He didn’t ask.
“I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again,” he said, recognizing it was futile but hoping his mother would let it drop anyway.
His hope was wasted. “Oh, Beck. Why?” She put her cup down on the coffee table and leaned toward him.
Beck kept his tone easy. He didn’t want anyone to learn how much it had hurt him to say goodbye, knowing it was for the last time. And telling himself it was for the best wasn’t helping. Not yet. “We have different lives in different cities. It was never going to work.”
His mother studied him and for a moment Beck was sure she knew everything. That he’d never dated a woman longer than two months. That his most memorable relationship had taken place here, the summer he was eighteen. Which was pathetic.
“Are you sure?”
No, he wasn’t sure. The selfish part of him wanted to call Poppy tomorrow like he’d promised before jetting off. Wanted to tell her she was more than welcome to come down for the weekend. That he’d take her to his favorite restaurant and lounge. But that wouldn’t be fair. Inevitably, the relationship would end. They always did. And he didn’t want to be responsible for hurting Poppy.
“I’m sure.” He hoped in time he would mean it.
“Are you?” She watched him with careful eyes.
“I said I was.”
“Victoria.” His father laid a hand on her shoulder.
“I know, Harrison. But I can’t help thinking he’s letting go of a good thing.” She turned her attention back to Beck. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He wished he hadn’t stayed for the coffee.
His mother opened her mouth again, all ready to insist on family togetherness and sharing and every other trope put forward on sitcoms about families who lived and loved together that didn’t exist in the real world. Except for the Sullivans. But she stopped, sat back and didn’t say a thing. And it wasn’t only because of the pressure his father’s hand placed on her shoulder. Though it probably helped.
She was trying. Beck’s throat loosened and he took a sip of coffee without feeling as if it was about to choke him. His mother was trying.
He coughed, awkwardly. His mother couldn’t be the only one making an effort. He recalled Poppy’s advice that if he wanted things to be different, he had to change his patterns of behavior, too. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
She nodded.
It wasn’t much. But it was a start.
CHAPTER TWENTY
One month later...
HE WAS A TOOL BAG.
It wasn’t the first time he’d had this thought. Probably wouldn’t be the last either.
Beck watched the needle on his odometer climb as he left Seattle behind and headed onto the I-5. The tall evergreens that lined the freeway whizzed past. T
he sun shone bright and hot on this Friday August morning. He had his sunglasses on and the car window down, the breeze blowing through his hair.
His mother would tell him he needed to get it cut, which was exactly why he hadn’t bothered. She also wanted him to live with her and his father for the next three months, which would not be happening.
Beck glanced at the folder on the passenger seat, which contained the information for the apartment he’d rented in Vancouver. He was picking up the keys tomorrow and had decided to stay with his parents tonight.
His mother gave him plenty of grief when he’d told her that her dream of one big happy family all living under the same roof was not to be. But what did she expect? He was a grown-up. A man. He had needs, and staying under his parents’ roof was not likely to meet them.
Still, things had improved in their relationship. Not the massive, bounding improvements that his mother hoped for. But improvements. For one, he wasn’t staying in a hotel tonight.
But shutting down his mother’s dream wasn’t why the pang of guilt radiated through his chest. No. That was all about Poppy.
Leaving her alone was the right thing to do. She wanted something he wasn’t capable of giving and it was cruel to continue to lead her on. But that didn’t make him feel any better about himself.
According to Jamie, she was fine. Beck hadn’t been able to bring himself to call her. Cowardly, he knew, but he thought a clean break was better. His fingers tightened around the wheel. Now he was heading into her neighborhood, her hometown.
He didn’t expect to see her. Vancouver was home to more than half a million residents, and the chance of stumbling across her should be small. But he couldn’t help wondering what if.
He cranked the music and pressed the gas pedal a little harder. He shouldn’t be wondering at all. He’d severed that contact. He had no place in her life.
The drive went smoothly and Beck arrived at his parents’ home ahead of schedule. That didn’t stop his mother from coming out the front door when she heard the car and throwing her arms around him in an exuberant greeting.
“We didn’t expect you for another forty minutes.” She brushed the hair creeping well past the collar of his shirt, but she didn’t say anything, which was a significant improvement. “Come in. I’ll make you something to eat.”
Beck opened his mouth to tell her he wasn’t really hungry, then snapped it shut. For one thing, he was hungry, starving as he’d only had coffee this morning. And she seemed so happy to be feeding him. It reminded him of being a kid, how she used to wait for him after school and ply him with water and apple slices while she asked him about his day. The memory caused an odd pinching sensation in his chest. He rubbed at it.
“I have some chicken,” she told him as she led him toward the house. “I can toss that in a salad, or would you rather go out. There’s a great little bistro a few blocks from here.”
“The salad will be fine.” He unhooked his arm from hers and hitched his bag over his shoulder. The rest of his suitcases were in the trunk, but he’d get them later.
“Your father told me you’d be early, but I didn’t believe him.” She pushed open the door and called for him. “You were right,” she said as his father made his way down from the second floor. “He’s early.”
“Dad,” Beck said when his father reached the landing.
They shook hands, then his father pulled him into an awkward hug. “Thanks for coming,” he said quietly, so the words were just between the two of them. “This means a lot to your mother.”
A funny heat slid up his neck. Beck brushed off his father’s words with a brusque nod. He hadn’t seen them since that last dinner in Naramata, but he’d spoken with his mother on the phone once a week. It was the most contact he’d had with her since he was a teenager. “I hear there’s salad.”
“Chicken feed,” Harrison said, but the twinkle in his eye told Beck he was only teasing.
“You want to be healthy, don’t you?” Victoria asked, putting her hands on her hips. “We’ve got a lot of missed years to catch up on and you’re stuck with me now.”
The interplay between the two was clearly familiar territory. Beck told himself they weren’t purposely leaving him out. They’d found a comfortable dynamic and hadn’t adjusted to him being here yet. He barely got the chance to finish his internal pep talk when his mother hooked her arm through his again and dragged him forward. “Come on. I want to show off my kitchen.”
She’d always liked to cook, and she chattered about the appliances with an expectant expression on her face. Beck nodded, though he had no idea why her selections were special. His expertise didn’t extend to stove tops and ovens.
The salad was good. Better than chicken feed, and he even said so out loud, earning a prized smile from his mother and a pleased grin from his father.
It was almost like they were a family.
He spent the afternoon with his parents, surprised at how easy it was. And since Jamie and Emmy were in town for his parents’ engagement party tomorrow evening, he was on his way to meet them for dinner at a popular steak house in the city.
Though Beck still thought the idea of an engagement party for a third wedding was silly, his mother insisted. According to her, this time would be the last and she wanted to honor it properly.
Beck hadn’t seen Jamie and Emmy since their wedding last month, and as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot he realized that he was looking forward to catching up. Though there wasn’t as much to catch up on as other times. He and Jamie had been keeping in contact through regular phone calls and email. Beck patted himself on the back for that as he got out of his car, recalling that he was already the proud owner of the knowledge that Emmy was over her morning sickness. Something he was pretty sure he could have happily lived without ever hearing, but hey, Jamie wanted to share and he wanted to listen.
“Jamie.” They shook hands and Jamie tugged him into an embrace complete with a solid backslap, which classified it as a manly hug.
“Good to see you.”
Beck smiled and hugged Emmy more gently. She still didn’t look pregnant to him, but he didn’t want to hurt her or the baby. She smelled like cotton candy. “It’s good to see you, Beck.”
They chatted easily over appetizers, Emmy and Jamie sharing the details of their honeymoon in Hawaii, while Beck talked about the hotel. The conversation was pleasant and Beck’s shoulders relaxed.
And then his stomach dropped.
It was her hair. That glorious red hair, which preceded her into a room like a procession before a queen. He flexed his fingers and whatever Jamie had been talking about floated away.
Poppy was here. In the restaurant with him. Right now.
He watched her move, a friendly smile on her face, as she made polite conversation with the hostess who seated her at a table on the opposite side of the room. He craned his neck to see who else was at the table, but the chair was vacant.
Was she here alone? He swiveled his head, checking for any lone men in the vicinity, but everyone appeared to be seated or heading to a table other than Poppy’s. Beck checked on her again.
She looked good, really good. A dress that showed off her tight little body and a pair of sexy red heels. She’d left her hair down, the way he liked. His body tightened.
“Beck?” He dragged his eyes back to his cousin, who watched him with a smug grin. “See something that interests you?”
“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly. But the last thing he needed was for Jamie to see Poppy here. His cousin had been disappointed when Beck explained things weren’t going to work out and had urged him to rethink and consider if this was something he really wanted to do. If Jamie saw her, he’d be over there before Beck called for the bill. “You two doing anything else while you’re down?”
He wouldn’t think
about the fact that Poppy was in the restaurant, only twenty feet away from him. He could get up and walk right over, sit in that empty seat...
Jamie and Emmy exchanged a glance. “We were saying we’re heading to Seattle on Sunday. We’re going to spend a few days there, do some shopping.”
“Great, great.” Beck listened, but only with half an ear. Poppy studied the menu. Was she really here alone? Waiting for a friend? On a date? His hand curled into a fist.
“Beck?” Emmy’s soft voice brought him back once more. “Are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t. But he would keep that feeling to himself. He was just experiencing leftover guilt from the way he’d handled his relationship with Poppy. Maybe bumbled things with her was a better way to put it, as Jamie already had—twice.
“Beck?” Jamie’s voice this time.
Beck blinked. “Yes, I’m here. You’re going to Seattle for some shopping.”
They shared another look. “You should tell him,” Emmy murmured, putting a hand on her husband’s arm and patting.
“He’ll figure it out,” Jamie said easily.
Figure it out? “Figure what out?”
“Why you’re staring at Poppy like you’re lost in the desert and she’s an oasis.”
“I’m not staring at her like...” Beck trailed off. “You knew she was here?”
“I set this up, and I can see I was right to do so.”
Beck stared. “Why would you do that?”
“Because.” Jamie leaned forward. “You aren’t over her, no matter what you keep telling yourself.”
“Don’t you think that’s something for me to decide?” And who was Jamie to say who he was or wasn’t over? And even if it were true, he was still in charge of his own life. “I was trying to do the right thing.”
“The right thing is to make yourself miserable?” Jamie shook his head. “I don’t want to see you closed off for the next ten years, so yes, I set this up. Now, are you going to talk to her or are you going to sit here like a wimp?”
Not Another Wedding Page 20