Page 55 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)
Tom
It was getting quite late; the day had been action packed and occasionally stressful, and Tom was exhausted.
The best thing for his bruised and battered heart was to put Ranney out of his mind entirely, but he was stuck here until tomorrow afternoon.
Once he was back in Boston, there would always be some danger of running into her unexpectedly, but the chances were small.
Here, he could not escape her. What was it she wanted to talk about? Ending this farce of a marriage, probably. He wondered if he could get an earlier flight.
His aunt and uncle were sitting in companionable silence, staring into the orange flames in front of them. They looked up, pleased, when he handed them their drinks. Although they were thirty years older, he was evidently more tired than they were.
I want what they have, he thought. I want to sit peacefully with the love of my life, surrounded by friends and family on a warm starlit night, celebrating happiness.
There will always be sad times and disappointments and worries, obviously, but I want to know that we’ll get through all of it together.
I want true love! Is that too much to ask?
Maybe it was. No one gets everything they want, and he was blessed in so many ways.
He sighed, then asked, “How is Eliza? She’s at Central St. Martin’s, isn’t she?”
They were taking turns filling him in on their granddaughter’s design school successes when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Ranney said, “but I just need a moment with my husband.”
His aunt and uncle looked confused, as if they had misunderstood or there was some mistake. But when Tom slowly got to his feet, their expressions changed to astonishment.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Tom assured them. “I'm not quite sure what she's saying. I’ll straighten this out.”
As he walked away behind Ranney, he heard his aunt’s voice: “...the one who had poor Antonia arrested! What on earth… ”
What was Ranney thinking? This wasn’t going to be easy to explain.
At one corner of the terrace, a set of stone stairs led down to another, less traveled gravel path. Tom followed her down the steps and it was immediately quieter. She walked carefully, holding the railing, looking back twice as if worried he might flee. She seemed anxious. Jittery.
Yet purposeful.
“Your husband?” he said. “Really? What is this all about, Ranney?”
Blowing out a mouthful of air, she dropped her shoulders, then squared them, looking at him with more light in her eyes than he'd seen since they'd been in bed together.
“It’s about your speech. I mean, it’s more than that, but this is about me telling you that I heard what you were saying.
I don’t know why I feel the way I do about you, and I certainly don’t understand why you feel the way you do about me , but it doesn’t matter why.
And it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.
Why didn’t I realize that? I’m so sorry, Tom! ”
From the time that Charlie had asked him to be in the wedding party, many months ago now, Tom had known he would be called upon to give a speech tonight at dinner, even as just a groomsman.
Once he'd been elevated to best man, the stakes were higher. He’d thought about it every now and then, but it always seemed far enough in the future that he’d felt no particular pressure to organize his thoughts or develop a theme.
The fact that he knew nothing at all about marriage was not daunting.
He had plenty of experience with romance to draw from.
By last night, though, he’d been forced to sit down and really think about what he was going to say.
This wasn’t the acceptance speech for a Nobel prize–far from it–but there would be many people in the audience whom he cared about and respected, and he wanted his remarks to be thoughtful and resonant, maybe even memorable. And there was no getting around it.
One of the members of his audience would be Ranney.
But, hey, no pressure.
So he had sat at the desk in his room, laptop open, and waited for inspiration to strike.
Twenty minutes later, still waiting, he got up and opened a bottle of water.
He sat again, he thought, he stood and walked around the room.
He yawned. If he went to bed pondering this, maybe his subconscious would sort it out while he slept?
He had plenty of time to write it up in the morning.
But in the morning he needed coffee, and then there were people he hadn’t seen in ages to talk to, and one thing led to another to fill up his time until, as he was finally headed back to his room with a few minutes to write something, he had encountered Ranney on the terrace.
By the time he sat down again at the computer, he knew exactly what he was going to say.
The words flowed onto the page on his screen and fifteen minutes later, he was done.
After reading it over, he had moved a paragraph and changed a couple of words, but there was really no need for polished perfection.
Nor did he need to commit it to memory–it was his lived experience, it wasn’t like he was going to forget it. Also, he was guaranteed a receptive audience. All he had to be was heartful and genuine.
Now, looking down at Ranney, slightly disheveled and her eyes glassy with tears, he knew he had written that speech for an audience of one. And while it may not have been a Nobel acceptance, it just might have won him the ultimate prize.
“Apology accepted, but I need to know what you’re saying. A few hours ago, you told me this was absolutely impossible, that our age difference was an insurmountable problem. Your mind was made up. Then you accused me of being a playboy.”
"I what ?"
"You did. Don't deny it."
"I would never use that word - "
"You might as well have. So what is this all about? I can’t keep switching gears like this, Ranney, it’s too hard. I need to be able to trust you. I don't want drama. I want depth.”
Her chin quivered, eyes wide and soulful. Speaking of depth.
“I know, and that’s a big part of what I’m apologizing for. But you can trust me, Tom, I promise! Nothing about this is normal or traditional, and it’s probably going to be really hard in ways we haven’t even thought about yet. But your speech made me realize I have to find out. I can’t not try.”
He grinned, wanting more than anything to believe this. “At least we won’t have to decide whether or not to get married. That’ll take some of the pressure off.”
She laughed. “We’ve done it all backwards.”
“From now on, we’re going to do it forwards.” Cradling her jaw in both hands, he drew her closer very gently, leaning down to kiss her.
If I hadn’t given the speech, he was thinking, this would not be happening. We would have walked away from each other, politely, civilly, but inexorably. Instead, we–
As their lips had touched, he jerked back suddenly.
“What is it?” Ranney gasped.
“You told my aunt and uncle that we’re married!”
“I needed to get your attention. Aunt and Uncle? I didn’t know who they were!”
“My mother is never going to forgive me if she hears it from someone else, and that’s assuming she forgives me for not having a proper wedding in the first place.
Also, you’re not exactly her favorite person right now, are you?
We could tell them it’s a stupid American joke–like, something from a reality tv show that went viral? ”
She gave him a look. “I guess we could say they misheard me? Does anything sound like husband ?”
“Hmm… dustbin?”
“‘Excuse me, I just need a moment with my dustbin ?’”
“I suppose not. How am I going to explain this?”
“If it were Nessa–you know, trying to put myself in your mother’s shoes–I think I would try to stay calm and understand the situation, and… no, forget that. I’d be furious. And hurt.”
“The only thing to do is tell them all the truth.”
They stared at each other, trying to imagine the reaction they were in for.
“There’s no way we can announce this now,” Ranney told him. “This is Ani and Charlie’s day, we can’t distract anyone’s attention from them. It would be unforgivable.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“If we go back, we’ll have to explain to your aunt and uncle, and then it will be out.” Biting her lip, she thought for a moment. “Also, we should probably talk things through first, don’t you think? I suggest… what if we went up to my room? I can leave Nessa in charge here and–”
“Brilliant!” he interrupted, but then he was kissing her, pulling her close, and all he knew for sure was that–finally–they both wanted exactly the same thing.
Or maybe they had all along.