The Sweetest Gift (Three Sisters Cafe #10)

Prologue

A ntony twisted his neck from side to side. Why were suits so uncomfortable? They had to have been designed by someone who’d never worn one.

“You ready?”

Antony looked up at his mother, and he forced his hands to relax. The familiar anger was rising in his chest, but he pushed it back down. He’d been working on that, but it was still a struggle. Almost a year he’d been home, and he could still barely breathe sometimes.

He nodded curtly to answer his mother’s question but didn’t speak. Words still seemed to stick in his throat, and it was easier to say nothing at all than to say things that hurt those around him.

He rubbed the back of his head.

“Stop.” His mother stepped up and straightened his tie. “You’ll ruin the whole look.” She smiled at him, but nothing could hide the haunted look in her eyes. It had been there since Antony had gotten home.

The thing was, did he put it there? Or losing his father?

Being sent back to the states all those months ago was the death of Antony Harrison. He’d come home only to have his leg chopped off and a large portion of his skin scrubbed away. His father had died only a few months later. And everything in Antony’s future that he’d been planning on since he was a little boy suddenly went up in smoke.

“Mom.” Antony pulled his neck out of her reach and wheeled his chair backward. He hated this chair. He hated the suit. He hated everything about his life.

But he also hated doing nothing.

And that’s exactly what he’d been doing since he got home.

Nothing.

His anger had been so strong when he’d gotten home that he’d practically ruined his entire family with it. In fact, it would be a miracle if Estelle didn’t tell him to get lost when he met her at the front of the aisle.

She had asked him a month ago to walk her down the aisle. Antony snorted and his mother frowned. Walk. Such a stupid, small word. He’d said so when Estelle had asked. The end result had been her nodding and walking away, pretending she wasn’t crying. How Crew had kept from coming to kick Antony’s butt had been anyone’s guess.

Last Antony knew, Estelle had turned to Mason instead.

It probably would’ve been better if Antony had let things be. He should let Mason walk Estelle down the aisle. He should probably turn this wheelchair around and leave the church completely.

Nothing about him was safe to be around, from his volatile temper to his nightmares in the dark to the nasty scars down one side of his body. Antony had no idea why he was still alive. His father had been a good man. Once Antony had wanted to make him proud. Instead, he’d come home a disgrace and made a female in their family cry on a daily basis.

He tugged on his collar, trying, unsuccessfully, to figure out why he was here.

Chilled lips landed on his cheek, startling Antony. “Thank you,” his mother whispered. Tears were trickling down her face .

Great. He didn’t even have to do a thing, and he hurt people.

“I need to go, or Estelle will guess what’s going on.” His mother looked down the hall of the church. “Mason should be bringing her any moment.” She squeezed Antony’s limp hand, then dashed inside the chapel.

The organ played a low prelude, and Antony shifted in his seat again. Maybe he should’ve brought the crutches. He’d chosen the wheelchair so the walk would be smoother, but now he was doubting his choice. He hated being lower than everyone else. It seemed to emphasize his being less than even more than usual.

Footsteps caught his attention, and Antony spun quickly, his pulse leaping into his throat. Why was he doing this? Estelle was going to be so angry. He should leave. Just wheel himself outside and never look back.

“Antony?”

His head jerked up. Estelle was resplendent in her white dress, set off with her dark looks. She was the perfect bride. Crew was a lucky jerk. Antony would have to make sure he knew it.

“What…” Estelle’s bottom lip quivered, and she looked up to Mason who was smiling through his thick beard. “What are you doing here?”

It was time to pretend like all was right with the world.

Acting had never been his thing.

“I couldn’t let my sister walk down the aisle without me,” he said, forcing his lips to part in a smile.

Estelle fanned her face. “I spent an hour on this makeup,” she scolded, but her smile and laughter said she wasn’t really mad.

Mason kissed Estelle’s cheek, then handed her to Antony. With a slap from his meaty hand on Antony’s shoulder, the giant slipped inside the doors.

“Why?” Estelle’s voice shook. “What made you change your mind?”

Antony swallowed, struggling with how honest to be. It was his sister’s big day. He didn’t want to ruin it, but the fact was, he already had ruined it by showing up. Wheeling to the front was a lot different than walking, and Antony had selfishly taken over.

He really should just leave.

“Tone?” Her voice. So soft. So vulnerable. She sounded just like the angel she was. The angel who regularly cried over how broken he was.

Antony closed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously tightening on hers while he took a deep breath. Help me, Dad. I don’t know how to do this anymore.

Forcing himself to look up, Antony nodded curtly. “I came because it’s time…don’t you think?”

Estelle’s trembling lips spread into a smile. “I do,” she replied.

“Hey, hey.” Antony tried to chuckle, but the sound felt like dry, crunching leaves. “Save that for the altar.”

Estelle nodded and shook their hands. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’d never be ready. But she didn’t need to know that.

Putting her hand on his shoulder, he spun his chair and reached for the door. He’d gotten pretty good at this maneuver, but it still took a moment to have all the right weights and angles in place. As soon as they were set to go inside, he grabbed her hand again. “Let’s go.”