Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
Wes
“Finally!”
Lottie’s mom, Claire, is outside before we’ve even made it to the front door, wrapping a cream-colored sweater around her shoulders as she rushes out to greet us.
She’s petite, maybe a couple of inches taller than Lottie, with shoulder-length dark brown hair streaked lightly with silver.
She has warm brown eyes and the kind of easy smile that makes people feel welcome.
The second she spots Lottie, her entire face lights up. Suddenly, a flash of my own mom standing in front of the doorway after school flickers through my mind. It’s one of the only clear memories I have of her. The way she smiled as soon as she saw me, like she’d been waiting all day.
“See? I told you she was watching for us,” Lottie whispers beside me.
When Claire reaches us, she immediately pulls her daughter in a massive hug.
Lottie laughs, her arms wrapping around her mom, and for some reason I can’t look away.
It’s clear where Lottie gets her warmth and kindness from—the way she throws herself wholeheartedly at the people she loves.
Claire’s eyes squeeze shut as she smiles into her daughter’s hair.
Some people never have to wonder if they’re loved, and Lottie is one of them.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Claire says. “I was starting to think you’d changed your minds.”
When she finally lets go of Lottie, she turns her attention to me and the smile she gives me is just as bright. Before I can react, she’s pulling me into her arms for a hug as well.
“Welcome,” she says simply, embracing me like I’m someone worthy of marrying her daughter. Her hand cups the side of my cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here.”
Wham, the thing in my chest tightens again. Lottie slips her fingers through mine and gently squeezes. I glance down at our joined hands for a second before looking back up. Her mother is still smiling, still looking at her daughter with sparkles in her eyes.
How the hell are we supposed to lie to someone who loves Lottie this much?
Another woman has appeared in the doorway and is staring at us with a wide smile that reminds me of Lottie. She has to be Harper.
"Oh, he's tall," she says with a smirk.
Beside me, Lottie groans, but there’s a hint of laughter in it.
"What? He is. He’s muscular, too."
“You must be Harper,” I say with a grin.
“I am. Nice to meet you, Wes. And I can see you’ve already learned that we're a family of huggers."
Claire pulls back but leaves one hand on my forearm. “Very much so,” she agrees.
"You should know, we're also nosy," Harper warns.
"Now, now. Let’s not tell your sister’s new husband all our secrets before he’s even sat down for dinner." Claire raises an eyebrow as she hooks an arm through mine and leads me to the door. "Come on," she says. "Everyone's waiting to meet you."
“Everyone? What do you mean by ‘everyone?’” Lottie sighs, following behind us. “Mom, what did you do?”
Claire winks and then pushes open the front door. That’s when I realize this isn't just dinner, it's a full-scale family event.
The past half hour has passed in a blur.
Lottie hasn’t stopped, helping her mother carry trays from the kitchen, refilling drinks, hugging relatives, introducing me to cousins whose names I immediately forgot.
Everywhere she goes, people reach for her, call her name, and somehow, she makes time for each of them.
The house is packed with people, dozens of relatives and old family friends milling about.
There are vases of flowers covering just about every available surface, balloons tied to the staircase railing, enough food filling the dining room to feed an entire army.
Someone has even hung a banner across one wall that reads, “Congratulations on your wedding!”
When Lottie walked into the house and caught sight of it all, she stopped so abruptly beside me that we almost collided. Her jaw dropped as she realized the lengths her mom had gone to.
“What?” Claire had said with an innocent shrug. “You got married. We want to celebrate the occasion! And everyone wants to meet your new husband.”
I stood there looking around the room trying to make sense of it all.
Lottie’s parents had been friendly when we ran into them at the drug store, but I was preparing myself for some tough questions today.
Instead, I got the warmest welcome I’ve ever received in my life.
They found out their daughter secretly got married to someone they’d never met, and their response is to throw a party, not an interrogation.
The Hart family doesn’t do anything halfway.
Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents pressed forward to greet Lottie and me one by one, everyone dressed up and genuinely happy for us.
But everyone in the room faded away when Lottie’s father, James, pushed himself up slowly from his chair.
Lottie let go of my hand and crossed the room to him immediately.
“Dad,” she had said. “What are you doing? You didn’t need to get up. I was coming to you.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, once he got to his feet. “Don’t be silly, I’ve been waiting all day for this.”
He opened his arms and Lottie walked straight into his embrace. He held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. When they finally pulled apart, her father’s hand stayed wrapped around hers as she looked at him with love and concern in her eyes.
James’s illness is impossible to miss. He’s thin, his face is drawn, and his movements are slow. But despite the toll his illness is taking on his body, his eyes are clear, and they brighten every time he looks around the room.
In the thirty minutes since then, Lottie hasn’t strayed far from his side. She’s pulled a chair over from the dining room table and is sitting next to him, listening as he describes the way her mom had worked late nights to throw this party together over the past few days.
Lottie runs her hand down her dad’s arm, and my pulse stumbles under my skin.
It’s so natural, the way she does it, like touching him is as familiar to her as the sound of her own name.
Her father reaches for her hand and his fingers wrap around hers.
She gives him a small smile and leans into him, close enough that their shoulders touch.
My chest somersaults behind my ribs at the way he looks at her, the way she leans into him without thinking, the way they seem to exist in their own little world despite the dozen conversations happening around them.
I’ve seen parents love their kids and I’ve seen kids love their parents.
But this feels like more, like they’re both trying to memorize something.
A lump forms in my throat as I understand the reality of what this man is facing. What Lottie’s entire family is facing.
“You know what your father did yesterday?” Claire says as she emerges from the kitchen. “He drove all the way across town to the bakery because he heard they had your favorite peach pie.”
“Dad—”
James shrugs. “I know how much you like it. Figured you can bring it home with you.”
“That was really sweet, Dad.”
James shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal.”
Lottie’s face softens. “You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
James huffs. “I’m fine, sweetheart. It was just a drive, it’s not like I climbed Everest.”
“Pretty soon you’ll be feeling better, but until then, you need to let us all take care of you for a change.”
Before James can fight her on it, Lottie is called over by one of her cousins to settle an argument. She gives her dad’s shoulder one last squeeze before glancing at me. “You okay?” she mouths. I nod.
James watches her go before turning his attention to me.
“So,” he says, settling back into his chair. “Lottie tells me you’re a pilot.”
I nod, the corner of my mouth lifting. “I am.”
“Commercial?”
“At one time, but now I fly private charters.”
He nods. “Ever crash?”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised by the question. “No sir, I haven’t.”
“Good.”
The response comes so quickly that I laugh. He smiles at me and suddenly I see where Lottie gets it from. The way she can put people at ease, lighten the tension in a room.
My gaze wanders to the mantel and the framed photos that stretch from one end to the other.
There are a few of Lottie as a kid—grinning widely to reveal her missing front teeth, jumping waves in the ocean with her sister.
My eyes linger on one where she’s wrapped around her dad’s neck, both of them laughing at something outside the frame.
I don’t realize I’m staring until James speaks.
“She was a happy kid.”
The emotion in his voice makes me look at him.
“Looks like it.”
His smile softens. “Still is.”
I look back at the photographs of the little girl who grew up surrounded by people who adore her, and I suddenly understand how someone like Lottie emits light because she was taught how to share it.
“You know, you’ve caused quite a stir around here tonight. For once in a long while all the attention is off me. Thanks for that.”
Before I can answer, Claire appears at our side and hands me an ice-cold glass of beer. “Lord, James. Stop interrogating the poor guy.”
His laugh rumbles through the room. “I’m not interrogating him.” Then he winks at me. “Besides, I don’t think Wes is the type of man to run.”
I smile politely, but if I’m honest, every instinct I have is screaming at me to do exactly that.
Not because of the crowd or the occasion, but because this house feels like something I haven’t experienced since I was ten—parents who adore their kids, a home full of laughter.
Love is woven into the fabric of this house and you feel it the second you walk through the front door.
Standing in the middle of it feels a lot more intimidating than I would have thought.
James takes a sip of his water. “You got family still in Deep Cove, Wes?”
I shift back in my chair, the wood creaking. “Yeah, I do. I’ve got my three brothers, Ford, Jesse, and Noah.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard about the Winters brothers.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I’m well aware of my family’s reputation. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard some variation of I’ve heard about the Winters brothers that ends in a rumor or a story that’s only half true. It’s the downside of growing up in a small town.
His grin widens. “Nothing to be sorry about. You and your brothers should be very proud. Your success is impressive as hell. How about your parents?”
I look down at the glass in my hands, watching condensation slide beneath my thumb. “My dad’s around. My mom passed away when I was ten.”
James’s smile fades, replaced by a quiet sadness that settles into the lines around his eyes. “I’m very sorry.”
I nod. “Thanks. It was a long time ago. I don’t remember her all that well anymore.
The sound of her voice, what she smelled like.
Stuff like that. But sometimes I think that’s easier,” I say, shifting in my chair.
“Not remembering.” I clear my throat, surprised that I just shared all of that with him.
Claire looks at me with kind eyes. “It doesn’t sound easy,” she says quietly.
“I told Lottie that you can’t miss what you don’t remember,” I tell them, thinking back to our conversation. “She said I wasn’t mourning the memories, I was mourning everything I never got to have with my mom.”
Silence settles for a moment. When I finally look up, James’s eyes are shiny. “Sounds like my girl.”
I take another sip of my beer. Across the room, Lottie walks out of the kitchen with her sister.
Her cheeks are flushed, and I notice the faint dimple in her cheek that appears when she’s really laughing.
She really is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I turn my head to look at her dad, and the look on his face is so full of love it almost hurts to see it.
“She was always my easy kid,” he says. “Harper needed rules. Lottie needed supervision.”
I smile. “That tracks.”
“When she was nine, she convinced half the neighborhood kids they could start a circus in our backyard.” His eyes crinkle at the memory.
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“She came to me asking where she could find an elephant.” James laughs. “Lottie was always like that. She doesn’t shy away from people. She’s always trying to make others happy.”
The words settle deep in my chest because he’s right, she does. I haven’t known Lottie for long, but from what I’ve seen, she’s always thinking about others.
James looks at me then and something in his expression shifts. It becomes more serious. “You take good care of her for me.”
The noise of the room fades into the background, and I can feel the weight of what he’s handing me—unspoken but unmistakable.
“I will.”
“Good.” Relief flickers across his face so briefly I almost miss it.
I take a long pull from my beer. The truth is, I wish that was a promise I could guarantee I’d keep.
I hate that he’s sitting here trusting me with his daughter not knowing the truth about us.
Every time he looks at me like I’m already part of this family, the lie sits heavier in my chest. He deserves better than half-truths and a son-in-law who has an expiration date.
I look around the room. There’s something about sitting in this house, listening to the sounds of people bickering and laughing and telling the same stories they’ve probably been telling for decades. Nobody seems in a hurry to be anywhere else.
I’m not in a hurry either.
I like it here.
I want to sit around this dining room table and get to know these people. To watch Claire and Harper laugh over something only they think is funny. To hear them reminisce about family vacations and Christmas mornings. To share meals and memories and stories.
I want more of this.
“I hope you come over again soon,” James says, nodding at me. “I enjoy talking to you.”
I smile. “You might get sick of me. But, yeah, I’d like that.”