Chapter Twenty-One #3
Even if he hadn’t pinpointed when or how to tell his mother, he looked forward to stopping this awful pretense. His announcement might turn everything nuclear, but whatever happened, he would face it with Beck and Heavenly—strong, united, and together.
Beck sighed as he stepped out of the car and into the cool October evening. He was so fucking ready for this weekend to be over.
He couldn’t bash tonight’s rehearsal dinner at Carl’s country club.
The food had been good, the wine decent.
Everyone had been polite, pleasant even.
But the whole time, Beck had felt eyes on him.
The glances had lingered a beat too long, constant silent questions that grated on his nerves. Who is this guy? Why is he here?
He’d kept his answers vague when anyone asked. Smiled. Made small talk. Played the part of Seth’s friend from LA who just happened to be here on business.
Lies. All lies.
The whole thing had left him on edge, second-guessing every word, every gesture. Had he stood too close to Heavenly at any point tonight? Had his gaze lingered on her a fraction too long? Did the fact that he was desperate to touch her show on his face? In his eyes?
The constant vigilance was exhausting.
And don’t even get him started on Seth’s weird mood.
Thirty-six more hours. He could handle thirty-six more hours before he and Heavenly flew Hudson back to LA. Then he could take a breath. Then he could touch Heavenly without blowing up Seth’s world.
As Beck followed Carl and Seth, who held Heavenly’s hand, to the front door, she turned. Their eyes caught before her stare slid away quickly. Still, Beck saw the strain on her face. She held herself a little too carefully.
Yeah, she was tired of pretending, too.
Grace bustled past him, Hudson in tow, and unlocked the door. Warmth spilled out onto the traditional portico, already decorated for fall. Inside, the family room glowed with soft lamplight.
In the foyer, Heavenly shrugged out of her coat, and Beck clenched his fists. Under normal circumstances, he’d help her. Slide the fabric off her shoulders, let his lips brush her nape, maybe lean in to whisper something inappropriate.
But Grace was right there, hanging her own coat in the closet, chattering about whether she’d remembered to pack the emergency sewing kit. So Beck just stood back, keeping a careful two feet of distance between himself and the woman he loved. And hated every second of it.
Carl stepped up beside Grace, resting a hand on the small of her back. “Sweetheart, you’ve checked that list three times today. I promise you, it’s in the trunk.”
“I know, I know.” Grace laughed with breathless excitement. “I just keep thinking I’ve forgotten something.”
“You haven’t,” Carl assured in the kind of low, steady voice that could talk someone down from a ledge. “Come sit before you fall down.”
They moved into the family room. Seth guided Heavenly to the sofa, settling beside her with the ease of someone who had every right to be there. Beck took the armchair across from them—as close as he dared, but far enough to appear respectful, removed.
Keeping appearances was grating on his goddamn nerves.
Grace perched on the edge of the loveseat, still buzzing. “I can’t believe the wedding is tomorrow. After all the planning—”
“All your planning,” Carl corrected, easing down beside her. “I just showed up when you told me to.”
“That’s not true.” But she smiled, some of her manic energy softening into something warmer. “You helped.”
“By nodding and agreeing with everything you said. That’s helping, right?”
Seth chuckled. “Yep, and I’m sure Mom appreciates it.”
“I do, and by the sounds of it you’ll make a ‘helpful’ groom, too.” Grace laughed before she settled her gaze on Heavenly with growing affection. “You’re going to be such a beautiful bride.”
She would, but the fact that Beck couldn’t agree without raising brows made him grit his teeth. He was going to be her groom, too. He wanted to shout that from the rooftops.
He couldn’t even whisper it.
Heavenly’s smile settled somewhere between genuine and awkward. “Thank you. But tomorrow is your day, and everything you’ve planned is gorgeous.”
Grace waved her way, but her expression said she was flattered. “I just hope it all comes together.”
“It will,” Carl insisted. “If we’ve forgotten something, we’ll tackle it tomorrow. Tonight, you relax, enjoy the company—and your last night of being a single woman.”
Grace laughed again. “I can’t help it. I’m excited. And nervous.”
“We know.” Seth’s voice was warm, affectionate. “But you got this. You always do.”
“I did my best.” Grace said, then turned her attention to Beck with that same open, welcoming expression she’d worn all weekend. “I know you’re recently divorced, Beck. Romance may not be on your radar, but I hope you find someone someday who makes you as happy as Carl makes me.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.” Beck tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Hudson, currently sprawled in the remaining chair, phone in hand and thumbs flying, glanced up and caught Beck’s eye. He flashed an ironic grin—there and gone—before resuming whatever he was engrossed in.
Thank god no one had seen that and the kid kept his mouth shut.
The conversation drifted after that—Seth’s childhood, the brothers’ antics, high school pranks. Beck mostly listened. Watched. Laughed where appropriate. This wasn’t his family. Not yet. Maybe not ever, depending on how Grace reacted when Seth finally told her the truth.
Half an hour later, Carl stood and held out his hand to Grace. “Time for bed, sweetheart. Big day tomorrow.”
Grace hesitated, then took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “You’re right. I should sleep. Don’t want to look tired for our pictures.”
Seth stood as well. “Sleep good. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bright and early,” Grace agreed, smiling. “Good night, everyone.”
They exchanged goodnights, hugs, the kind of easy affection that came with family. Beck nodded politely, hanging back, before Grace and Carl headed upstairs.
Seth glanced at Hudson. “Time for bed.”
“Yeah?” Hudson pocketed his phone, then offered a wry smile. “And what about you?”
“None of your fucking business. Now go to your room.”
Hudson dropped his voice. “Yeah, yeah. But a little advice: don’t let her scream like she does at home. She’ll wake the whole damn house.”
Heavenly’s cheeks turned bright red. Beck stifled a laugh as Seth whapped the kid upside the head, ruffling his hair. “Thanks for the safety tip. When we get home, I’ll get you some earplugs. Now off to bed.”
With a one-fingered wave, Hudson darted upstairs and disappeared into his room.
After Seth killed the lights in the family room and ensured the house was secure, Beck followed him and Heavenly up. At the top, they crowded together in the hall. The house was quiet now, just the faint creak of floorboards down the hall as Carl and Grace got ready for bed.
A long pause fell between them. Beck looked at Heavenly. Then at Seth. His chest tightened.
He ached to reach for her. Pull her close. Feel her warmth against him. At least fucking kiss her goodnight.
But he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
“Well…good night,” he murmured, his eyes saying everything he couldn’t. I hate this. I miss you. I want you.
Heavenly squeezed his hand for just a second, her fingers warm and reassuring, before she reluctantly released it. Then she mouthed a silent Soon.
Seth nodded, his gaze steady, promising. Last time. Never again.
Beck held onto that promise as he turned and ducked into his room across the hall. He closed the goddamn door, the silence pressing thick and stifling around him, and sighed.
Keeping his friendly good-doctor mask on all day had been exhausting. But he’d played his role—Seth’s buddy who’d tagged along for the eventful weekend. And he’d played it well. But now that he was alone, he let everything drop.
God, he was fucking exhausted.
He pulled off his tie, tossed it onto the chair by the window, and started on the buttons of his shirt. His fingers moved automatically, but his mind drifted back to their trek to the house where Seth lived with his first family.
He’d known the facts about Seth’s loss—wife and infant son murdered.
Horrific. Tragic. The kind of thing that destroyed people.
Beck had felt sadness, empathy even. He thought he’d understood—until he’d seen Seth moving through the house, face so tightly locked down as he’d stared at the remnants of his past…
That had driven home the devastation in a way nothing else—especially facts—could express.
In that instant, Beck had finally understood.
Time wasn’t the sole barometer of grief.
Sure, their deaths had been nearly nine years ago.
To him, that had sounded like a long time to mourn.
But he’d seen Seth’s face yesterday and suddenly understood the horror and guilt his friend still carried.
Maybe he always would. And honestly, Beck couldn’t blame him.
In fact, he worried his friend wasn’t half as healed as he’d claimed.
Another problem for another day.
Feeling restless and cooped up, Beck paced to the window, then back to the bed. The room was comfortable—understated wallpaper, a quilt that looked handmade, the kind of guest room that said you’re welcome here without being overly fussy. But it felt too quiet. Too peaceful for his unsettled mood.
Still, he had nowhere to go and nothing to do, so he climbed into bed with a curse and tried to close his eyes. They bounced open again seconds later. He stared at the ceiling fan as it turned lazy circles overhead, too wound up and too mired in how wrong all this felt.