Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Dara
Oh, wow.
Whatever I thought the Bartholomew Gardens was like, I was wrong.
So incredibly wrong.
I walk beside Wade through a set of stone pillars that look hundreds of years old. Moss is buried between the rocks like a natural concrete holding the stacks together. We pass beds of flowers, shallow pools with colorful fish, and fountains that trickle in the calmest way.
An old, stately brick building with a plaque reading Hardwig sets to the side. Each window holds an electric candle that flickers warmly. People filter in and out of the front with flowers, garment bags, and, most of all, wide smiles.
We pass through another set of pillars into an area tucked into the back of the property.
The far wall of the enclave consists of thick, deep green vegetation.
A white carpet leads to an arch filled with white and soft pink flowers.
On either side of the carpet are rows of white chairs capped off on the end with oversized gold vessels overflowing with roses.
“This is … unbelievable,” I whisper to myself.
To the left of the setup is a giant glass greenhouse. The doors are held open by the same flower-filled vessels found beside the chairs. Lights glow from inside by what appears to be giant chandeliers and lights strung from one side of the venue to the other.
People move about—all dressed in their finest, chatting easily with one another. Couple that with the violinists playing to the right of the arch and the ambiance is absolute perfection.
I wish I had my camera.
“What do you think?” Wade asks.
I look up at his handsome face. “I’m … I’m in awe. It’s so beautiful.”
Before he can respond, an older man wearing a suit and a newsboy hat ambles up to us.
“Wade, I still hate that you aren’t standing up for your brother,” the man says.
He grabs Wade’s elbow to steady himself. It’s only when he catches his breath does he notice me.
“Well, hello, darlin’. Who might you be?” he asks.
Wade clamps a hand on top of the man’s knuckles as if to give him more support.
“Gramps, this is Dara Alden,” Wade says. “Dara, this is my grandfather. He doesn’t have a name. Just Gramps.”
For a reason unbeknownst to me, this tickles Gramps. He laughs. The sound is full of joy, and it makes me laugh too.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gramps,” I say.
Gramps puts his hand against the side of his mouth between him and Wade.
“I’m hoping that he introduced me that way because that means he’s finally come around and will get married before I kick the bucket,” he pretends to whisper.
I giggle as Wade’s jaw sets. Still, he doesn’t look as annoyed as usual. Just more uncomfortable.
“I’m here as a guest of Holt,” I say.
Gramps’s eyes go wide. “Oh.”
“Not like that,” Wade says.
Gramps chuckles. “With these boys, you never know.”
“Well, that bodes well for them,” I say, eyeing Wade’s reaction.
He refuses to look at me.
“Not this one.” Gramps sticks a bony elbow into Wade’s stomach. “This one is as straight as an arrow. The best one of the bunch when it comes to matters like that.”
Wade struggles so hard not to smile that it must pain him.
“Wade, excuse me,” a woman says, coming up to us. She’s wearing a pretty blush-colored dress with her hair in a fancy updo. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but Holt would like to see you before the ceremony starts. I stopped by to check on Walker and got lassoed into finding you.”
“Where is Holt?” Wade asks.
“On the third floor of the Hardwig building with the groomsmen,” she says.
“Tell him that I’ll be right there, Sienna.”
She smiles at Wade, then at me, before disappearing into the crowd.
Wade blows out a breath. “That was Sienna Landry. Her … husband? Boyfriend? Is Blaire’s brother. Blaire, the bride …”
“Didn’t you say the security company was also Landry?” I ask.
“That’s her family’s business. It’s a small world.”
“Must be.”
Gramps sighs. “Well, help me get settled in a seat before you take off. I can’t stand around here all night.”
“Are there seating assignments?” Wade asks. “Or do we sit wherever we want?”
“Oh, who cares?” Gramps scoffs. “I’m eighty-five years old. What are they gonna do? Tell me I can’t sit where the hell I want?”
I laugh. Gramps’s eyes light up at my amusement.
“Second thought,” Gramps says, reaching for me. “Dara can help me while you go find Holt. Tell him I said not to cry. Crying is for girls.”
Wade helps transfer his grandfather to my arm.
“Are you okay with this?” Wade mouths over Gramps’s head.
I nod.
“All right,” Gramps says, huffing and puffing. “Let’s get a seat before I pop a squat right here and make the bride walk around me.”
I clutch Gramps’s hand the same way I saw Wade do. We start toward the chairs in what might be the slowest walk I’ve ever done.
“You’re here as a guest of Holt,” Gramps says as we approach the seating area. “But are you here with Wade?”
My cheeks flush because I don’t know how to answer.
We reach the chairs in the nick of time, and Gramps chooses a seat in the back row on the far end. He collapses with a hearty exhale. Then he pats the seat next to him.
I sit hesitantly.
“You know,” he says, catching his breath, “I’ve never seen Wade with a woman.”
“Really?”
“Oh, I’m sure he gets a little something somewhere, if you know what I mean.” He winks at me. “But he’s never brought anyone around. Not with me, anyway. Maybe to his parents, but I’ve never witnessed it.”
This information rolls around my brain. I didn’t expect it. Sure, he’s standoffish, but I never imagined him to be that much of a loner.
The idea makes me sad for him. It’s possible he’s with someone in his own private time like Gramps said, but how much of that time even exists with how much he works?
“I used to spend a lot of time with Holt,” Gramps says.
“When he was little, he used to visit me in the office—Ollie too. I’d set them up with fake jobs to do, and they’d eat it up.
” Gramps chuckles to himself. “Coy and Boone come by and watch golf with me sometimes. Boone used to do it to hide from Holt. But he’s straightening up now thanks to Jaxi and that little pipsqueak of theirs.
That little girl is as cute as can be. Have you met her? ”
I shake my head.
He hums. “I’m sure you will.” He digs around in his jacket pocket and pulls out two spearmint Life Savers. He hands me one. “How long have you known Wade?”
“Not long,” I say, figuring that was a better answer than a few weeks.
He pops his candy in his mouth. I follow suit. It tastes like men’s cologne and a hint of tobacco.
“He’s a tough cookie. But I’m sure you know that,” he says, rolling the candy around his mouth.
I suck on the Lifesaver, too polite to spit it out, and contemplate my situation. Is it ethical to pump information out of an eighty-five-year-old man?
I’m not sure until I look at Gramps. He’s grinning a toothy grin with a twinkle in his eye.
Game on.
“I’ll bite,” I say, making him laugh. “Why is your grandson such a tough cookie?”
He keeps chuckling. “That I don’t have the answer to, darlin’. But I do know this—I’ve never gotten anything worth a damn without working for it, if you know what I mean.”
Gramps reaches over and pats my hand. Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I turn around.
Wade sits beside me, watching his grandfather with a heavy dose of skepticism. “You didn’t fill her with a bunch of garbage, did you?”
Gramps chuckles. “Just a Lifesaver.” He looks at me and winks. “How’s your brother, Wade?”
“He’s … happy.”
I laugh. “That’s a good thing. Don’t say it like he just drank poison.”
Wade makes a face and adjusts his tie.
“Want a Life Saver, Wade?” Gramps asks.
“No, but thank you.” Wade leans back out of Gramps’s sight and makes a face in disgust.
I giggle.
The violins begin to play louder as people file in and take their seats. Gramps gets into a discussion with a gentleman on his other side, leaving Wade and me to ourselves.
I take in the beauty of the gardens. There are so many moments I could capture, and I wish I’d have brought my camera.
“What are you thinking?” Wade says loud enough only for me to hear.
I turn to face him, not realizing how close he is to me. My breath sucks in past my lips.
Whether it’s the reflection of the lights strung overhead, or it’s his eyes themselves, there’s a twinkle there that takes my breath away.
“I was thinking about …” You. “About all the pictures I could take here,” I say.
His brows pull together. “Like what?”
“Well …” I glance around. “Imagine if you stood at the pillars at the entry and got the Hardwig house in the background at the perfect angle to capture the glow from the setting sun.” I close my eyes and imagine the feeling of contentment that picture would bring to anyone viewing it.
“Or if you stood in one of the windows of the Hardwig and captured a view of the gardens from that vantage point. Or … who knows what’s all in this estate? This is just a little piece.”
I open my eyes to see him watching me. “Those sound intriguing.”
He means it. I can tell by the tone he used and the inflections in his voice. He listened to me as a professional, as someone with a passion for what I do.
“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks aching.
He rolls his eyes but grins too.
The crowd grows quiet. I have no idea where they get their cues from, but the violins fade. As their notes soften, a piano begins to play.
The music flows so beautifully that it fills the entire garden with joy. I search the area until I find a white piano on a small platform covered in flowers.
“That is my cousin Larissa’s boyfriend, Hollis,” Wade whispers, pointing at the pianist.
I can feel the heat on my skin from his breath. Instinctively, I want to lean into him, but I don’t. I’m not sure what he would do if I did.
“You used boyfriend pretty certainly,” I joke.
“Trust me. If Riss got engaged, we’d all know it.”
I look at him over my shoulder and smile. “Do I sense a little protective big cousin?”
He shrugs and looks away … and I was wrong when I thought he couldn’t get any sexier than when he was standing on my doorstep in a suit.
Ushers walk various people up the aisle and get them seated at the front. And then the music changes again. The violins join back in this time, and the wedding party makes their way to the arch.
“Those dresses are gorgeous,” I say softly, admiring the pale pink fashions of the bridesmaids.
Wade leans in. “Those are Blaire’s brothers’ wives, I’m pretty sure, and Larissa since she’s like our sister. I think some of Holt’s groomsmen are Blaire’s brothers. I’m not sure.”
“You sure know a lot about them for a guy who didn’t want to be involved.”
He gives me a look. “I had dinner with them all last night after their rehearsal. I tried to learn as little as possible so I don’t feel obligated to talk to anyone tonight.”
“You are such an asshole,” I tease.
He shrugs and redirects his attention back to the parade of bodies coming down the white carpet.
Finally, the telltale notes of the “Bridal Chorus” ring through the garden, and the guests all stand. I assist Gramps, holding on to his elbow.
The bride is stunning with her long, dark hair in contrast to the slim-fitting white dress with a train to die for. She joins her groom under the arch, and we all sit again.
Gramps slides me another Life Saver, and I take it. Luckily, he doesn’t pay attention, and I slide it into Wade’s palm. He tries to push it back into my fist, holding it in place with his other hand, but I jerk it away. He gives me a stare that makes me smile … and swoon.
We settle into our seats as the mechanics of the wedding take place. I appreciate the gardens and the perfection of the setting sun … and of the man sitting next to me … until I hear the vows.
As the groom clears his throat and then the words he wrote on a piece of paper begin to be read aloud, tears dot the corner of my eyes.
His love for Blaire is evident. It’s palpable. It’s the kind of love that a woman wishes for if they wish for that kind of thing at all.
It’s the kind of love that touches my heart just from witnessing it.
My gaze trickles over the men standing next to him. Some are near carbon copies of Wade and others are bigger, stronger, bulkier but also extremely handsome. They watch Holt give his vows with the utmost seriousness. It’s clear they, too, love Blaire.
Gramps hands me a handkerchief, a red silk piece of fabric with orange diamonds embedded into the cloth.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He pats my leg with a shaky hand.
I dab my eyes and watch the action in front of me.
Wade leans his head to the side. “You all right?”
I grin but don’t look at him. “Yeah.”
“Why are you crying?”
My chest shakes as I try not to laugh. I turn toward him so as not to disturb anyone else and lean in close to his ear.
“Aren’t weddings supposed to be emotional?” I ask.
“No.”
I smack his leg softly. “Do you get emotional about anything?”
I’m not sure what I said, or if he’s irritated by the contact I initiated without thinking, but his eyes narrow, and he leans back. “No.” He nods toward the ceremony as if he wants to watch it without me disturbing him.
So I keep a distance and pretend not to notice that he’s staring at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
I’m not a fool to think that this seemingly emotionless man will change because of me—that he’ll ever want an emotional connection with me.
But I can’t help feeling stirred to want to know why and how he is the way he is.
Why does someone who has so much to give avoid connecting with people … intentionally. Like it’s his damn job.
Maybe it’s the emotion of the evening, or maybe it’s Gramps’s words, “I’ve never gotten anything worth a damn without working for it,” but I’m resolved about one thing: come hell or high water, I will get to the bottom of Wade Mason.
Even if it kills me … or my heart.