Chapter 22 That’s in the Bylaws
That’s in the Bylaws
Eric
At six o’clock, we make our way down to the beach for cocktails and dinner. Darcy wears a cotton dress that the breeze likes to ripple around her smooth legs, and I have a feeling I’m going to spend a lot of the evening trying not to stare.
“Wow, what a spread,” she murmurs as we reach the party tent. “Where should we start? With the oysters and work our way toward the sushi? Or the reverse?”
She bites her lip, and I try not to fixate on how pink and plump it looks in the golden evening light. “You pick.”
“Oysters, it is!” she says brightly.
I hope they’re not truly an aphrodisiac, I think as she hands me a plate. That’s just a myth, right? A few hours ago, I was stressed out and in pain, and now I’m thinking about sex. Must be on the mend.
“How’s your head?” Darcy asks as we squeeze lemon juice over our Wellfleets at one of the high-top tables they’ve set up on the beach.
“Fine,” I insist, “except when I look toward the sun.”
Wordlessly, Darcy switches places from my left side to my right, which puts her out of the direction of the sun.
“Want a drink?” I ask her. “There’s no line at the bar. I’ll make a run for it.”
“Sure! They’ll have a rosé, right?”
“At a summer wedding? Pretty sure that’s in the bylaws.”
She gives me a smirk as I step away. “Back in a jiff.” Then? I lean over and kiss Darcy on the cheek.
And oops. I get a whiff of her perfume, and it makes me want to step closer and pull her into my arms. But I do the responsible thing and step back, only to find her staring at me.
“Why did you do that?” she whispers. “Is someone looking?”
“Nah. You look pretty in that dress, is all.” And I’m a weak man. I walk away, heading for the bar before I say anything awkward. I request a glass of wine for Darcy and a club soda for myself, and I shove a ten-dollar bill into the tip jar.
Then I glance back toward the table where Darcy is greeting her father with a big smile.
“Ooh, drool much?”
I turn my head and find Maribel grinning at me. Oops. “Hey, you look fantastic. Yet another dress?”
She glances down at the white dress with pink flowers that she’s wearing, as if she’s never seen it before. “Eric Tremaine, are you trying to distract me?” Her chin snaps up again. “I wasn’t finished teasing you. You’ve got it bad. Anyone with eyes can tell.”
I take another involuntary glance toward Darcy, because I just can’t seem to stop. “You’re not the first person to say that,” I admit. “It’s a problem.”
“Is it, though?” She nudges me in the way that near-siblings do. “Did you two just arrive?”
“Sort of?” I drag my gaze back to Maribel. “Spent last night in Marblehead.”
“Oh, cool. How are your parents?”
“Well…” I let out an awkward laugh. “Not great, to be honest. But it’s nothing you should worry about.”
Her face falls. “I had a feeling. Your mom is always inconsolable in the summertime. She’s been texting me about…” Maribel sighs.
“A ridiculous photograph?” I guess.
“Yeah.” She purses her lips. “I don’t know what to tell her. Maybe it was a mistake to ask your father to give me away. Maybe they’re just not ready.”
“Maybe they’re not,” I agree. “But that’s on them. I got a new tux for this wedding, and I’m ready to show it off while I walk you down the aisle. And I promise that I’ll deal with that photo of my mother’s if it shows up here.”
She smiles, even as her eyes brighten with tears. “Thank you, Eric. Seriously. You have no idea…”
“Actually, I think I do.” I pull her in for a hug. “It’s okay, Belly. You’re going to have a beautiful wedding, and it’s not your job to worry about my parents.”
She gives me a fierce hug. Then someone else calls her name, and I wave her off.
I take our drinks and head back to the table, where Darcy is still talking to her dad.
Watching them together is interesting. Mr. Randolph might have been a terrible husband and a sketchy dad, but the expression on his face tells me he loves his daughter, and he’s thrilled to see her on this beach.
“Eric!” he says as I approach. “So glad you could make it. How’s your hotel room?”
As I hand Darcy her wine, we share a conspiratorial glance, seeing as the question is directed at both of us. “It’s magnificent.”
“Good, good!” He beams. “Let me know if there’s anything you two need. How was your trip up here? And Darcy—how is your mother?”
Her smile tightens. “Mom is fine. The trip was smooth. We stayed at Eric’s parents’ house last night.”
“Oh, of course,” Mr. Randolph says grandly. “You must not get to Massachusetts much during the season, eh?”
“That’s right,” I agree.
“At least your parents don’t have to travel very far to see you play,” he says. “Amtrak to New York gets them within a few blocks, right?”
As if. “They’re big fans,” I lie.
Darcy’s father nods along. “You know, Eric? I was thinking—you must spend a lot of time in hotels.”
“So much.” I chuckle. “I have almost as many points on my account as Darcy.”
He grins. “And how do you feel about Wayfair properties?”
“Love ’em,” I say immediately, and it’s not a lie. “The Wayfair always has great staff and a great gym. I stay at the Wayfair Seattle every time we’re in town. Also, Chicago and Raleigh. Oh—and LA. Love the swimming pool there.”
Darcy, inexplicably, gives me a heated glance. Maybe she likes LA, too.
“That’s great to hear,” her father muses. “I’ve been hatching an idea. Would you ever consider a sponsorship arrangement with Wayfair? We’re trying to draw a younger crowd.”
I blink. “Well, sure. Of course. It’s a great brand.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Let me discuss this with the marketing department. I know they were talking to some golfers already. But hockey is a sexier sport, and I think it hits the younger demographic. It’s edgier, you know? It would be a fun look.”
“Yessir,” I say a little too quickly. “My agent would be happy to take that call.”
“Fantastic,” he says. “I’ll work on it after the wedding.” Then he smiles at his daughter and asks her a question about the classes she’s taking this summer.
I take a sip of my soda and play that conversation back in my mind. A national sponsorship with Wayfair? I’d love the paycheck, of course, and maybe they’d want to shoot the campaign at some gorgeous destination. Plus, I’d probably get Brie and grapes in my hotel rooms for life.
Winner winner chicken dinner.
Mr. Randolph moves on to greet more of his guests, and Darcy turns to me. She glances over her shoulder to make sure we’re alone, and then she squeezes my wrist. “Eric! A sponsorship! We didn’t even have to hold up a bank!”
I laugh out loud. “Are you sure? It’s not a done deal. And your father basically agreed with my agent, if you think about it. I’m only a bad boy if you stand me next to a golfer.”
She claps a hand over her mouth and laughs. “Whatever it takes, right?”
“This wouldn’t bother you, would it? If I ended up taking a sponsorship from your dad?”
She gives me a confused frown. “God, why?”
“Well…” My eyes track over to the man in question. “You have a complicated relationship with him and his money.”
“Oh, that.” She waves a hand dismissively. “That’s my issue. And someone is going to get that sponsorship. Why not you? Don’t let some boring golfer have it out of spite.”
We both cackle. “Sushi next? I think they just brought out the swordfish and risotto, too.”
“My body is ready,” Darcy insists. “Let’s go.”