Brown-Eyed Girl

“For me and Sloane?” he asked, unsmiling.

“Yes. Why not?”

Charlie turned the empty glass around in his hands. “My parents divorced when I was eight,” he said. “But they never stopped trying to use my brother and me against each other. Lying, backstabbing, arguing, ruining every birthday and holiday. That’s why my mom and stepdad weren’t on the guest list: I knew if they were here, they’d cause all kinds of problems. How am I supposed to have a good marriage when I’ve never seen it done right?” His gaze lifted to mine. “I’m not asking for a fairy tale. I just need to be sure that if I get married, it won’t turn into a nightmare someday.”

“I can’t promise you’ll never get divorced,” I said. “Marriage doesn’t come with guarantees. It’s only going to work for as long as you and Sloane both want it to. For as long as you’re both willing to keep your promises.” I took a deep breath. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight, Charlie… You haven’t gotten cold feet because you don’t love Sloane… you have cold feet because you do love her. You want to call off the wedding because you don’t want the marriage to fail. Is that right?”

Charlie’s face changed. “Yeah,” he said in a wondering tone. “That… kind of makes me sound like an idiot, doesn’t it?”

“It makes you sound a little mixed up,” I said gently. “Let me ask you something… has Sloane given you any reason to doubt her? Is there something about the relationship that’s not working for you?”

“Hell, no. She’s terrific. Sweet, smart… I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”

I was quiet, letting him work it out for himself.

“The luckiest guy on earth,” he repeated slowly. “Holy shit – I’m about to screw up the best thing that ever happened to me. To hell with being scared. To hell with my parents’ sorry-ass marriage. I’m going to do this.”

“Then… the wedding’s on?” I asked cautiously.

“It’s on.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” Charlie met my gaze directly. “Thanks for telling me about what you went through. I know it wasn’t easy for you to talk about.”

“If it helped, I’m glad.” As we both stood, I discovered that my legs were shaky.

Charlie looked down at me with a slight grimace. “We don’t have to mention this to anyone… do we?”

“I’m like a lawyer or doctor,” I assured him. “Our conversations are confidential.”

He nodded and heaved a sigh of relief.

“I’m going to go now,” I told him. “In the meantime, I think you should keep your distance from Wyatt and his nonsense. I know he’s your friend, but frankly, he’s the worst best man I’ve ever seen.”

Charlie grinned crookedly. “I won’t argue with that.”

As he walked me to the door, I reflected that it took courage for him to make the commitment he was most afraid of. A kind of courage I would never have. No man would ever again have the power to let me down the way Brian had… the way Charlie had nearly let Sloane down just now. Feeling relieved and wrung-out, I picked up my bag.

“See you soon,” Charlie called after me as I left the room and went downstairs.

I supposed it was somewhat hypocritical, having urged someone to take a chance on getting married when I had no intention of ever doing the same. But my instincts told me that Charlie and Sloane would be happy together, or at least they had as good a chance as anyone.

Val was waiting downstairs by the front door. “Well?” she asked anxiously.

“Full steam ahead,” I said.

“Thank God.” She handed me the radio headset. “I figured you had everything under control when I saw Wyatt trying to hightail it out of here. Ray Kendrick caught him at the front doorstep. Literally gripped him by the back of the neck like a dog with a rat.”

“And?”

“Mr. Kendrick dragged him off somewhere, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of either of them since.”

“What’s happening with the dove release?”

“Tank asked Steven to help him find some ABS pipe and a barbecue igniter, and he told me to rustle up a can of hair spray.” She paused. “And he sent Ree-Ann to fetch some tennis balls.”

“Tennis balls? What is he —”

I was interrupted by an earsplitting whistle followed by a violent blast. We both jumped and stared at each other with wide eyes. Another blast caused Val to cover her ears with her hands. Boom… boom… and in the distance I heard a masculine chorus of hoots and hollers.

“Steven,” I said urgently into the headset, “what’s happening? Over.”

“Tank says the hawk’s flown off. Over.”

“What the hell was that noise? Over.”

There was a distinct note of enjoyment in Steven’s voice. “Tank rigged up a grenade launcher and made some exploding tennis balls. He emptied out some black powder from a handful of bullet cartridges, and… I’ll tell you the rest later. We’re about to start seating. Over.”

“Seating?” I echoed, looking down at my dusty, sweat-stained outfit. “Now?”

Val practically shoved me outside. “You’ve got to change. Go straight to the main house. Don’t stop to talk to anyone!”