37. Prenups & Brotherly Love
37
PRENUPS & brOTHERLY LOVE
REX
“Damn, man, that hurt,” Rich grunted, massaging his shoulder as he crumbled to the floor of the court at New York City’s Racket Club after one of my serves pummeled him.
“Sorry,” I grumbled. Beating my brother’s ass at racquetball did the trick, for now. I needed a little stress relief and took it out on him.
While making love with Chelsea first thing this morning worked wonders to start the day…as the hours wore on and fifty million messages between my mother and Chelsea blew up my phone about which tone of red the linen napkins at the reception should be, I needed more relief.
“You on a mission to kill me or something? What the fuck’s going on with you?” He scowled.
“One word. Miriam and this wedding.”
“That’s four. I warned you, didn’t I?”
He did, and I was front and center for all the battles he and Mom had about his wedding details—and about his former fiancé. I counted myself lucky that Miriam admired Chelsea enough that we avoided those types of arguments, at least.
“I mean, who knew there was such a thing as orange-red and berry-red in the world of fucking linens? Our guests can wipe their mouths on paper napkins from the dollar store for all I care. Just let me say I do and whisk my bride away on our honeymoon, for Christ’s sake.”
“Ah, the old linen argument,” Richard chuckled. “I know that one well. Only for mine it was a spring wedding and someone wanted every color of the rainbow, but Mother wasn’t having it.” The someone he referenced being Janet, his ex fiancé, whose name he hated with a passion, and tried never to mention.
He laughed maniacally about it now, in hindsight, and I was all too happy to see it. He hadn’t been himself these past couple of years since he had to step in front of five hundred guests at the wedding ceremony and call the entire thing off.
He’d gone against Mom’s wishes and not put a prenup in place, thinking he could trust Janet. Only minutes before the ceremony start, he caught her in the arms of another man, and heard their entire conversation about taking Rich for every penny he had.
“Next time, elope,” he joked. I wasn’t laughing.
“Seriously, are you okay?” My brother raised a brow at me, sitting there, lost in my thoughts.
“No. It’s more than napkins. I lied and told Mom that Chelsea signed a prenup, but I haven’t decided if I want her to.”
He practically jumped out of his skin, darting to his feet and hovering over me like a damn bully. “What. The. Fuck. Have you not learned from my mistake? Go to her right now and get her signature on the damn thing. Now!”
I scoffed and shot up, storming past him. “Chelsea isn’t Janet.”
He bristled at my use of his ex’s name, narrowing his eyes. “ Every woman is.”
“Jeez, that’s a boulder-sized load of skepticism you carry around.” I scraped my scowl and the sweat off my face with the gym towel. “Are you ever going to trust a woman again?”
“Nope.”
Poor guy. My heart, hell, my life, was fuller with Chelsea in it. I was a better person with her in it. Sure, a guy like my brother—after all he’d been through—had a hard time seeing the good in people again. But for me, without a doubt, I caught myself an amazing woman.
“I’m just as upset as you are that you got a bum deal, man. But I’m not you and my situation is different,” I tried to reason.
Pissed, a hurt, animal-like sound emitted from his throat. He grabbed his towel and water and rushed to the door, then stopped. “I thought she’d never screw me over. I thought she loved me. So I didn’t get her to sign the prenup. And hours before the ceremony, I caught her in the arms of another man discussing their plans to off me on the honeymoon so they could get their hands on my money.”
“Rich, stop, please. Chelsea would never do that.”
He turned back with a grimace and fire in his eyes. “Okay. Let’s play this scenario out. You marry Chelsea. Happy as can be for a few years, maybe she even graces our family with the next generation of Buchanans. Then things turn sour when the oxytocin and all the cuddly hormones wear off and you suddenly cannot stand the sight of her. You become a miserable fuck and want to leave, only you can’t. Why? Because you never got her to sign a dang paper, outlining she gets nothing. So she’ll take everything when you split.”
“Fuck you.” I scraped my sweaty hair off my forehead with my palm. “I love her. And if she gives me children, all the better. God forbid I ever reach that point like you’re describing, but if I did, it’s only money.”
“You’d give away your fortune to her?” He stared at me, incredulous. Like him, I almost couldn’t believe I was saying it.
“All of it. She could have it, but I know she wouldn’t take it. It means nothing to her. And that right there is the fundamental difference between her and Janet.”
“Don’t say that name,” he seethed, rushing right up to my face. Boy, was I wrong. He’s definitely a little touchy about his ex still.
With my hands up, I backed away. “Calm down.”
“Test her.”
“What the fuck?”
“Give Chelsea a check for a few million and tell her she has a choice. She could walk away with the money now or marry you,” he suggested.
“That’s sick. There’s no way I’d do that.” Then again, in a way, I sort of already tested her. When I proposed to her the first time, offering money and a marriage of convenience, complete with an enormous diamond ring. She turned me down flat, no hesitation.
After, for the first time in my life, I threw money—that ring—right off the roof after she ran away from me. Money couldn’t buy her then, which was why I doubted she was in this for money now.
His water bottle and towel crashed to the ground, and he sauntered away, pacing with his fingers laced behind his head. “I can’t do this. Take me out of the wedding.”
“What? Mom would have your head.”
“Then I’ll go away for a year. Somewhere she can’t find me.”
“Whoa. Miriam aside, what about me? You’re my brother, and you agreed to be my best man.” Although if his face and neck were going to be this beet red on my wedding day…
“Sorry, but I can’t,” he muttered, his tone of voice flat, holding no emotion whatsoever.
“Rich, I get how things sucked for you, and if I could turn back time and have figured some way to learn about J—your ex’s motives earlier on, I would have done anything to save you from the heartbreak. But dude, don’t break mine by not being there for me.”
“You have no idea how hard it is to see you all happy and shit, when I can’t even allow myself to go there yet with anyone.” A hint of his voice cracked, and I softened.
“Given time, maybe you will…but until then, I won’t apologize for my love and my life.” I took up his things with mine and handed them over to him. “We’re already down one Buchanan, since Dad’s not with us anymore. I need you there with me.”
That got to him, and his shoulders drooped. “Dammit. You dare play the Dad card?”
“Yes. Because you’re my big brother, and I want you by my side up at the altar as my best man. And what I want, I usually get.”
“Fucker. Don’t I know it?” He covered his face with the towel, wiping it down, and when he reemerged, a hint of a grin was there.
“I get how you can’t be happy yourself yet, but can you at least be happy for me that day? Then after, I’ll send you away anywhere in the world you want, on me. Deal?” I stuck out my hand between us.
“Fine. I’ll be there.” He shook it at first, then yanked me closer. “But get the prenup signed. If not for your benefit, then for mine.”
He left the court, and I gawked after him. At least now I believed he’d show up on my wedding day. As for the prenup, I was ready to bet on the love between Chelsea and me to last through the test of time—and maybe this would prove the biggest gamble of my life.