Her Cowboy Billionaire Best Man

by Liz Isaacson

  “Listen,” he said. “I’ve just been trying to figure out what to say.”

  “What happened?”

  “Owen was here when I got back last Sunday.” Zach spoke quieter than she’d ever heard him speak before. “He told my dad about us. Everyone knows now. No one’s happy. I don’t know what to do.”

  Celia nodded, her eyes on the ground. She checked his hand, and it looked bad judging by the way the bloodstain kept getting larger. “So you thought you’d just stop talking to me.”

  “I don’t know.” He sounded completely lost, and while Celia was frustrated with him, she still felt bad for him.

  “Sit down,” she said once they got inside. He complied, and when he took the towel off his hand, he hissed.

  “This is bad,” he said as the blood started to pool again. “I need stitches.”

  Celia looked at the gash in his palm. “What were you doing out there?”

  “Cutting leather.”

  “You need to go to the hospital,” she agreed. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  “Celia,” he said, looking fully into her eyes. She saw the anguish, the regret, the pain. “Things are so complicated.”

  “You said they didn’t get to decide,” she said, wishing the way he’d removed her from his life didn’t hurt so much.

  “I know.” He closed his eyes, swaying, and Celia realized in that moment that he was going to faint.

  “Whoa. Zach.” She grabbed onto his shoulders, but he easily weighed twice as much as her, and there was no way she could hold him upright on a barstool. She did the best she could to make sure his head didn’t hit the floor too hard, and then she called 911.

  Chapter Twenty

  Zach woke up in a moving vehicle. Machines beeped around him, and voices talked, and he couldn’t remember getting there. A groan came out of his mouth.

  “Hey,” someone said. A face appeared above him. “You’re okay. You’re in an ambulance, on the way to the Dog Valley Hospital. We’ll be there in two minutes. I’m Jerome.”

  “Jerome,” Zach said, everything rushing back into his brain. How he hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning. The slice of the hatchet across his palm. The walk back to the farmhouse with Celia. “Where’s Celia?”

  “She’s following us in her car,” Jerome said. “You’re okay. We’ve got the bleeding contained, but you’re going to need stitches.”

  “And a CAT scan,” another voice said. “You hit your head when you fell, and Celia said your head didn’t hit too hard, but we all want to make sure you haven’t hurt your neck or back.”

  Zach wanted to nod, but his head was strapped down tight. He couldn’t move it left or right, forward or back, up or down. He let his eyes close, the movement of the ceiling above him making him nauseous.

  His behavior over the past nine days made him sick too. Maybe that was why he hadn’t eaten breakfast. Couldn’t even stomach a swallow of coffee.

  Everything in him felt stitched too tight. He hadn’t known what to say to Celia, so he’d gone silent. Immature, for sure, and he was eternally glad she hadn’t let him simply disappear out of her life. Of course, now he’d have to have a hard conversation with her in public, while he had pain and thread in his hand.

  He couldn’t think about that now. He let the movement of the ambulance beneath him comfort him. Everything was going to be okay. His hand would get fixed, and he’d heal.

  Zach could only hope the same was true for his heart.

  By the time the doctors and nurses left him alone in a semi-private room, he hadn’t seen Celia for a couple of hours. Fourteen stitches now lived in his palm, and they pulled uncomfortably.

  He’d been dehydrated, so they’d hooked him up to an IV, and now he just needed someone to bring him something to eat.

  Zach thought about who’d he call in this situation. Before the wedding a few months ago, he’d have called Owen.

  Now, the only person he wanted to see was Celia.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, a light knock sounded on the door, and she poked her head into the room. “Are you up for a visitor?”

  He tried to sit up straighter, because lying in this hospital bed was stupid. He felt weak. He hadn’t hurt his legs, his back, or his head. She’d saved him from a worse injury, and gratitude for her filled him.

  “Of course.”

  A quick smile touched her mouth for a moment, and she slipped into the room, a white deli bag clutched in one fist. “The doctors said you were complaining about being hungry.” She lifted the bag. “I ran out and got you a roast beef sandwich.”

  She was easily an angel. “Thank you, Celia,” he said. He took the bag with his good hand and took out the sandwich. The first bite had his taste buds rejoicing, and the food allowed him to put off the conversation they needed to have.

  Celia sat in the only other chair, and she busied herself on her phone. Zach actually hated that she didn’t start the conversation, though she had driven up to Dog Valley to confront him.

  “How are things going with the wedding?” he asked. “Busy, I assume.”

  “I’ve been busy, yes,” she said. “But not too busy for a phone call, or to text.”

  He almost choked on his bite of roast beef, cheese, and bread. Their eyes met, and Zach felt her displeasure all the way down into his soul. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Are you?”

  “Of course.”

  She looked doubtful, and Zach crumpled up the wrapper from his sandwich and put it back in the bag. “I don’t know what to do.” He’d told her this at the farmhouse before passing out.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “Do you?” he asked. “Because I don’t.”

  “Things are complicated,” she said. “Relationships always are, and blending two families always is.” She leaned forward, her pretty eyes intense. “And we’re not just doing that already, what with our children and pasts and all of that. But we’re trying to merge two families that have hated each other for a long time.”

  “My kids like you,” he said.

  “And mine like you.” She reached out and traced her hand down the side of his face. “But I don’t think you’re ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  She stood up and paced away from him as if she’d leave. His heart jumped around, and she could hear it as he was connected to a monitor.

  Facing him again, she said, “I can’t ask you to give up your family.”

  “I told you they didn’t get to decide.”

  “But then you let them decide.” She looked like she might cry, but no tears trickled down her face. “You cut me off as soon as your dad found out.”

  “I—” He didn’t know how to explain. “I went and saw him last week. He’s old, Celia. So set in his ways. Neither of my parents could understand why I’d even talk to you.”

  “Hatred can run deep,” she said. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

  “Wait. You’ll be…okay? What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I can’t ask you to go against your family.”

  “I’m fifty years old.”

  “And yet,” she said.

  He waited for the rest of her sentence, but she didn’t deliver it. She gave a small shrug. “I think you’ve shown me what you’re willing to do,” she said, her chin wobbling. She swiped at her eyes, and her voice sounded like she’d inhaled helium when she said, “You couldn’t even call me back.”

  Celia took a few steps toward the door, and Zach felt like the best thing in his life was leaving.

  “Wait,” he said.

  She turned back, and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. “I don’t want you to go. Not like this.”

  Celia gave him a watery smile and met him halfway across the room. She did not step into his arms. Instead, she reached up with one hand and ran her fingers down the side of his face.

  “I never lied to you,” she said. “When I said you were the best thing in my life, I mea
nt it.” Those lovely eyes filled with tears. “Reagan’s wedding is on Sunday. You know my number.”

  And with that, she walked to the door, opened it, and left.

  Zach’s whole body wailed at her departure, but he couldn’t get his voice to call her back. He’d never lied to her either, and she was absolutely the best thing in his life.

  But—

  He was so tired of buts.

  But he’d never been able to go to another family function.

  But he couldn’t betray his father.

  But he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do.

  They all sounded like weak excuses when faced with the reality of life without Celia.

  His phone rang, and he turned toward the counter, where the sound came from. Surprise filled him, as he didn’t remember putting his phone there.

  Paul’s name sat on the screen, and Zach hurried to swipe on the call and lift his phone to his ear. “Hey, bud,” he said, and his voice sounded mostly normal.

  “Dad,” Paul said. “Where are you? There’s blood all over the kitchen, and you’re not here. But your truck is in the garage.”

  “I’m at the hospital, but I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I forgot you were coming today. Sorry I didn’t call.”

  “What happened?”

  Everything from that morning zipped through his head, exhausting him. “I’m in room 314. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

  Paul said he’d be right there, and Zach took the chair Celia had been sitting in. Paul would drive him home. Paul would keep him company. And maybe Paul could help him figure out what to do about Celia.

  “What do you mean you think you broke up?” Paul knelt on the floor, wiping up the dried blood there. His luggage sat by the front door, and his presence in Zach’s house was very welcome. He’d be living with Zach for the summer, when he’d then return to school in the fall.

  “You either break up or you don’t. There’s usually not a question mark involved.”

  “She said her daughter’s wedding was on Sunday,” Zach said from his spot on the couch. He felt bad making his son clean up, but he couldn’t really do it with one hand. He had a feeling he’d need a lot of help around the farm, and another rush of gratitude for his son bled through him.

  At the same time, if Paul wasn’t here, Zach knew he’d have asked Owen, or Gene, or Xander to come help. And if he didn’t have them to ask? What would he do then?

  “She said I knew her phone number,” Zach said. “So I don’t know if we broke up or not.”

  “Dad.” Paul stood up. “You like this lady, right?”

  “Yes,” Zach whispered.

  “Then call her,” Paul said. “It’s not that complicated.”

  “Isn’t it?” Zach asked. “I won’t be able to take her to anything at my family’s farm. Ever.”

  “So what?” Paul asked. “You barely go down there anyway, and you don’t care what they think of you. That’s why you and Mom came to Dog Valley, right?”

  Zach couldn’t argue. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so far into his head. “I need to go see my dad again.” He stood up. “Can you drive me?”

  “Now?” Paul asked. “Dad, you’ve had an eventful day already.”

  “Yes,” Zach said. “Now.” The last visit had not gone well, and Zach had not stood up for himself. His father had taught Zach to work hard and be respectful, but Zach had lived most of his life in fear of disappointing his dad.

  “All right,” Paul said. “But I’m bringing my laptop and not coming in. I have some work to do.”

  Zach nodded and started for the garage. His children did not have a strong relationship with his parents, as Kathy had moved to Jackson after the divorce. Paul barely knew them, and Zach wasn’t going to make him start building a bond now.

  He had moved to Dog Valley years ago to get away from the bitterness that seemed to consume the Zuckermans, and with every mile Paul drove toward the farm where Zach had grown up, he remembered how much he’d wanted to leave the place.

  “They live in the cabin to the left,” he said when the buildings on the farm came into view. “Right over there.” He pointed, and Paul went down the left fork in the lane. “I’ll try to be fast.”

  “Take your time,” Paul said. “I can work from anywhere.”

  Zach smiled at him, once again grateful his son had chosen to come stay with him. Paul usually did, staying all summer. Zach knew it hadn’t been easy for him, as he’d left his friends and sports teams in Jackson to spend time with Zach on a small farm an hour away.

  Climbing the steps, Zach whispered a prayer under his breath, begging the Lord for guidance, for the right words, for clarity of mind.

  “Dad?” he called as he knocked on the door. He didn’t wait for someone to get up and answer. Both of his parents were semi-immobile, and when he didn’t see them sitting in the living room, he crossed through the cabin to the back porch.

  Sure enough, they both sat there, his mother with a book in her hands and his father just looking out over the land he’d worked for decades.

  “Hey,” Zach said, also taking a moment to appreciate the farm spread before him. He loved open land, the good smell of the earth, and the way the sun gave life and light to the world.

  “Zach,” his mother said, letting her book fall to her lap. “What are you doing here?”

  “I—”

  “What happened to your hand?” She reached for it, barely brushing her fingers against the bandages.

  “Oh, I cut myself,” he said. “I had to get stitches.” He sighed, as if the stitches were the worst part of the last nine days. But they weren’t. Not even close.

  “Dad. Mom. I’m in love with Celia Armstrong, and I’m not going to stop seeing her.”

  “We’ve talked about this, son.” His dad’s gruff voice sounded tired, not angry.

  “Yeah,” Zach said. “And I made a mistake. I just wanted you to know that I love you both. But I love her too, and I don’t want to lose the best thing in my life because of something I don’t believe in anyway.”

  “You don’t believe in family loyalty?” his mother asked.

  “I believe in forgiveness,” Zach said. “And kindness. And love. And Celia is all of those things.” At least he hoped she was, because he needed her forgiveness. “So I love you and Dad, and Owen, Gene, and Xander. I love their wives and their children, but that doesn’t mean I have to choose to spend my time with them.”

  “You’ve already made that clear, Zach,” his dad said.

  He nodded, because he supposed he had. “I love you guys. I don’t want to hurt you. But it’s time the feud ended.”

  “They stole—”

  “I know, Dad.” Zach exhaled, trying not to make it sound like he was frustrated. But he was, and tired, and so done with trying to hate the Abbotts. “I know. And I’m sorry they hurt you. I think they’ve tried to make up for it over the years. It’s us who’ve been unforgiving. Unrepentant. Unyielding. You, and Owen, and….”

  He turned back to the door. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just letting you know that I love you, and my door will always be open to you. If you need me, call, and I’ll be here.” He waited a moment, and then another, so his parents could respond if they wished to.

  “Okay,” he said when they remained silent. “I love you. Talk to you later.”

  He’d taken a couple of steps back into the house when his mother said, “We love you too, Zach.”

  “Joan,” his father said as the door closed. “Enough.”

  Sadness pulled through Zach, but he kept walking. He got in the truck with Paul, determined now.

  “How’d it go?” his son asked.

  “Not well.” Zach looked out the window, watching as Paul drove down the lane to the road.

  “Home?” Paul asked.

  “No,” Zach said, an idea coming to him. “Go straight across to that farm. I want to talk to Celia’s brothers.”

  Chapter Twenty-One
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br />   Celia measured and mixed, baking off each layer of the cake to exact perfection. After all, this was her daughter, and she deserved a flawless wedding cake.

  The dress was ready. The décor. The refreshments. The venue. They’d managed to work together and check all the boxes in anticipation of Reagan and Dale’s union.

  Celia wept as she whipped buttercream for the inner frosting, her thoughts first revolving around Brandon. They’d lived in this house together for only two years before he’d died. He’d filled it with laughter and love in that time, but the sound of those chuckles didn’t exist in Celia’s memory anymore.

  She couldn’t remember what he smelled like, or what he might say on a day like today. She’d spent so much time missing him, and she almost felt like her whole life had passed her by while she’d thought about him, knitted sweaters for her dogs, and poured her time and energy into her girls.

  None of those were bad things, but Zach had opened her eyes to the fact that her life could be so much more. She was so much more.

  She glanced at the phone sitting on the counter, silent. It had been three days, and he still hadn’t called or texted. Not even once. She’d expected him to, and each minute felt like a stab to the heart now.

  His message—unsent and unspoken as it was—had come through loud and clear. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with her. Or, perhaps he was, but not at the price he had to pay to have it.

  The phone rang, and she jumped out of her skin. Her heart pounded against her breastbone, the hope ballooning into a very real and very tangible thing. She hated that she still held such hope that Zach would call.

  And hated even more that Ophelia’s name sat on the screen. “Hey, O,” she said after she’d swiped open the call. She sounded chipper and bright, just as she wanted to.

  “What time do you girls want me to come over to do the makeup on Sunday?”

  “Oh, let’s see,” Celia said, thinking. “The wedding is at two. Reagan’s hairdresser is coming at ten. How about eleven? I’ll feed you lunch.”