Page 51 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

Tom

Tom had to admit, he’d never seen anyone as happy to be getting married as Charlie.

He exuded happiness. He was the cat that ate the canary, the guy who won Euro Millions, the little kid on Christmas morning. He could not seem to believe his own luck.

Ani, for her part, was serene. Where Charlie was overjoyed, Ani gave the impression that today was simply the next step in their pre-ordained, blissful future.

They had met–against all odds, having been born in different hemispheres–fallen in love, and were now formalizing their union.

In a year, or two, or three, she would produce the first of four children.

Eventually, she would be a countess and they would live out their lives peacefully in the Sandersons’ ancestral home, surrounded by their great-grandchildren and still–also against the odds–in love.

All was right in her world.

Tom was glad it was in someone's, because his world was a right mess.

Ranney's accusations came out of nowhere. Unable to locate his mother - social butterflies were notorious for that - he had no idea what had been said about him. Ranney made him sound like a cad, a playboy, a Cassanova.

One who bought sentimental pink SUVs to put notches on belts.

It made no sense.

Nothing did, anymore.

“Now then, Ducky,” Charlie chided cheerfully, “You’ve got to get a grip on things.

Playing around is all very well when you’re young and in your prime, but that’s behind you now.

Marriage is what you want.” His eyes followed Ani, who was talking in rapid-fire Spanish to a table full of elderly aunts and uncles.

“Ani has about a hundred cousins. I mean, none of them can hold a candle to her, but I suppose you might feel differently. There’s one of them now, come on, I’ll introduce you. ”

“Oh, ah, maybe later. I see someone I really must say hello to. Excuse me.”

Nessa stood by herself in a corner of the reception tent, half hidden in greenery.

The floral designer had brought in dozens of crape myrtle trees, their branches crowded with crinkled white flowers, and planted them in small forests.

Her own deep green dress blended so well with the foliage that her face and hands seemed to float like a wood nymph–if wood nymphs wore earpieces and carried iPads.

“Hello,” Tom said. “You look like a wood nymph in there.”

“Ha. More like–what was the scene in Shakespeare where the soldiers carried branches and pretended to be trees?”

“Birnam Wood. MacBeth .”

“Right. I did a project in art school that was inspired by that. Archie’s security team could walk around here with branches and be completely camouflaged. I should suggest it.”

“Too late now. Anyway, they’re busy shaking down elderly British ladies for asking too many questions.”

“It’s the protocol.”

He snorted.

“No, really! You have no idea the lengths people will go to for a photo. Boats, helicopters, disguises… one guy smuggled in a box of snakes and set them loose. It worked, too, everyone ran out screaming and he got it all on video.”

“One of your events?”

“No, my mother’s.”

“Ah! The very person I’m looking for. If I ask you where she might be, will I be held for questioning?”

“You know, Tom, with all due respect–I mean, you’re client-adjacent and all–maybe it would be better if you just left her alone? Don't you have plenty of other women to keep yourself occupied? Maybe try Australia next.”

“Nessa,” he said slowly, “with all due respect–you’re my step-daughter, after all–I need to talk to her. It’s not what you think.”

“You have no idea what I think.”

“True.” He sighed. “Please, Nessa, just point me in her general direction. It’s not that big a place, I’m going to find her eventually.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then: “She’s down by the pool. Three of the ushers went in that direction and she thought she’d better be sure they were doing something harmless. It’s a little early in the evening for tossing people in, but you never know.”

“Thanks, I owe you.”

“Here’s how you can pay me back: Drop the step-daughter thing, okay?”

“Deal.”

The sun was setting and the wide Texas sky blazed orange all around.

Wherever you are in the world, the sky is always the same dome above you, he thought, but they’re right, it seems so much bigger here.

Halfway down the gravel path, he ran into the three missing ushers: One was his cousin and two were Ani’s brothers. He heard their laughter before they came into view; obviously, the language difference was no longer an issue.

“Tom!” Will, his cousin, sounded extremely happy to see him, considering they’d spent much of the last three hours together.

“You should have joined us! Amazing view, right, Nico?” He turned to Ani’s brother, who smiled and said nothing.

“We’re going back for more Champagne now, and some of those delicious shrimp.

Nothing going on at the pool, just an older woman looking around. Come on!”

“Thanks, I think I’ll take a look for myself. I’ll be back shortly. The barbeque smells fantastic.”

As he approached the pool, he could make out the dark form of someone sitting at the foot of a lounge chair, facing the disappearing sun.

“I’m fairly certain it will rise again tomorrow.”

Taken by surprise, Ranney inhaled sharply, her head snapping in the direction of his voice. Then she stood.

“Probably so. I was just taking a moment but I should get back. Dinner service will be starting.”

“I think Nessa has it under control. Very capable young woman. And it’s not just the wedding. She’s protecting you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“She asked me to leave you alone.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.”

“Look, my job requires focus and this is all too distracting. I don’t really understand what game you’re playing, but after my little chat with your mother, I can make a pretty good guess.

I’m not worried that you’re preying on me.

Your resources are evidently greater than mine, and at the end of the day, I think you’re really a nice guy.

I do. But I think you’re probably someone who is always looking for novelty, a new experience, maybe some kind of challenge. And I just got in over my head.”

She was saying so much, making these conclusions based on wrong assumptions, that he began to panic. He was supposed to be explaining himself to her , not the other way around.

“What exactly did my mother say to you?”

“Not much, really. I told you already, she said there was no one left for you to date in England or all of Europe, so you moved here. Nothing important, it just made me realize that I don’t really know you at all.”

“It’s important to me! There’s nothing about me that you can’t know. But what you think you know here isn’t true. My mother has no idea of what’s going on in my life, and half of what I do tell her, she forgets or gets wrong. The woman in my life that I told her about is you!”

But to his frustration, Ranney seemed not to hear him. It was as if she was listening to a voice in her own head, instead of to him. Their marriage had a third partner called Ranney's Intractible Doubt.

“This is an impossible situation,” she went on.

“That night at my apartment, you asked me if I’m not attracted to you.

You must know the answer to that–I mean, it couldn’t be more obvious, could it?

I can’t stand next to you without wanting to touch you, be alone with you.

But I didn’t want to admit it. I still don’t. ”

All the air rushed out of him in a great sigh of relief.

Since that miserable night, Tom had tried hard not to think about her.

It had been his experience that there was no way around the initial suffering, but that the pain would lessen over time.

Until then, the only trick he knew was to stay asleep as much as possible.

He put in long hours at work, arriving early in the morning and remaining at his desk until eight or nine o’clock, with a sandwich for dinner.

Once he got home, he took off his clothes, brushed his teeth, and immediately turned out the light, thus managing to be unconscious for nine hours out of twenty-four.

The price he paid for those nine pain-free hours was the bleak moment every morning when he opened his eyes and remembered, and it all came flooding back.

But now he looked at her beautiful, sad face and listened to her saying she did want him, and hope filled him. Instinctively, he took a step toward her.

She took a step back.

“It’s impossible,” she repeated. “For too many reasons. The difference in our ages is just too great. I know some people can face down disapproval, just ignore looks and comments, and I wish I were that strong. But I’m not.

It will always be the first impression that people have of us, and it will never go away–in fact, it will only get worse.

When you are sixty-five, I’ll be eighty! ”

“Being with me will keep you young,” he offered, but his voice was weak and it came out sounding more like a question. If she didn’t see it by now, the chances were slim that he was going to talk her around and, in truth, he was running out of energy to try.

“In some ways, maybe. When I’m with you, everything is more interesting, more fun–the colors are brighter. But you can’t literally keep me young. And we have not one thing in common–we don’t even celebrate the same holidays! What exactly is Boxing Day, anyway? I’ve never been sure.”

“Boxing..?”

“Never mind.” She took a breath. “Maybe it would be different on a desert island, just the two of us, but not in the real world. Who would our friends be?”

He gave her a questioning look and she went on: “I know that sounds like it shouldn’t matter but eventually, it will. Your friends have young families, mine will be having grandchildren.”

“Nothing you’ve said matters a damn to me.”

“Maybe not now, but it will! But you’re right, it’s not the most important thing.

The biggest problem is what I said before: When you are sixty-five–basically at your peak–I will be eighty years old.

Sixty-five may be the new fifty, but eighty is always going to be eighty.

I don’t ever want you to look at me that way. ”

"Ranney - "

"And then there’s alimony -”

“ALIMONY? Surely you don’t - “

“Oh, no! I meant from my first husband, Carmine!”

"I don't understand."

She waved him off. "Never mind. Evan's contaminated me. It's just another detail. Another complication. This is all so complicated."

Now was his chance. He could tell her that she was wrong. That this was simple, in fact. Respecting him as a man meant seeing him as a fully-formed being and not just a birth year. That sharing the same taste in music was a piss-poor reason for a relationship.

That it hurt to have her use him as an excuse for her own insecurities.

The heart of it was all so simple: she was terrified. In this moment, clarity struck him. How could he quell her fear?

Or would he ever?

Suddenly her expression changed and she put one finger on her earpiece, turning slightly away.

“Yes?... Okay, thanks… No, nothing’s going on here, all quiet… I’ll be right there.” Looking back at Tom, she said, “They’re sitting down to dinner. We should go back.” There was no opening. No pleading. To new softening.

Just a look.

She saw him as an impossible life partner, and he had to accept that.

“Fine.”

She looked at him quizzically and he realized she had expected him to protest, insist on staying there and talking it out.

“You’re right, we should get back. I have an important speech to give.”