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But was there a bride who didn’t feel emotional? Was it such a bad thing to be a tiny bit apprehensive? She wasn’t a twenty-two year old virgin. She was a mother, and it’d been just her and TJ for years. Now she was moving her boy into a new home, another man’s home. Thank goodness Lawrence wasn’t like those testosterone driven alpha males who were all weird and territorial about raising another man’s child. He wanted to be a good stepfather. He wanted to do scouting with TJ and teach him to fish and how to throw a ball.
Not that Lawrence could actually throw a football. Or catch a pop up ball. But her brothers could teach TJ those things. Her brothers were tough and testosterone-fueled. What TJ needed was Lawrence’s quiet strength. His calm, his self-control.
So, no, Lawrence Joplin wasn’t a he-man, cowboy, athlete, bar room brawler. But he was invested in the community, and constantly giving back, which made him the right example for TJ Sheenan. The right example for a little boy who was growing up with his biological dad in jail.
“You look beyond beautiful,” Paige said, giving McKenna’s silk train a shake to make sure it didn’t wrinkle. “Simply gorgeous,” she added, adjusting the long veil to float above the gleaming white silk.
McKenna looked at her reflection in the antechamber’s oval mirror, thinking she’d taken so many photographs of brides in this very spot, doing one last make up check before leaving the dressing room for the church. It was a bit surreal being the bride herself today, and not the photographer. She was far more comfortable being in the background than in the starring role.
Paige kept up a steady stream of chatter to try to distract McKenna. “TJ looked adorable. I love tuxedos on little boys, so cute.” Paige had been McKenna’s best friend for the past two years, from practically the moment she arrived in Marietta with her two young children in tow.
“I hope he’s behaving,” McKenna answered.
Paige grinned. “He’s trying his best.”
McKenna smiled ruefully. “Are my brothers losing their minds?”
“Not too badly. And your brothers seem up for the challenge.”
“I think they wish he had more Douglas in him and less Sheenan.”
“But you love that little boy because he’s all Sheenan.” Paige leaned in and gave McKenna a warm hug. “Now don’t be sad,” she added, her voice dropping. “This is a happy day. You’re marrying your best friend. Lawrence is as steady as a rock. You know he’ll always be there to take care of you.”
Paige was right. Lawrence was exactly that—steady and reliable. A tad conservative, too, but she’d learned the hard way that conservative was better than crazy-ass wild. “I just hope that he’ll always be as patient with TJ as he is now, because a spirited five year old is one thing, but a sassy or sarcastic thirteen year old is another.”
“You’ll just have to work hard to make sure TJ doesn’t get sassy or sarcastic—”
“If he’s anything like his dad, he’s not going to be a saint, and you to have admit, he’s the spitting image of Trey.”
“I haven’t actually met Trey, but I know Troy, and yes, TJ is a miniature of his uncle Troy.”
“If only he acted like Troy…instead he’s wild. Wild like Trey.”
“Wild and adorable,” Paige retorted. “The cutest kindergarten kid ever, with an incredible sense of humor.”
McKenna smiled a watery smile. “He does have a good sense of humor.”
“Yes. He’s hilarious. And he just needs a good kind father figure, a father who is there.” Paige hesitated, picking her words carefully. “Is this about…Trey?”
“No!” McKenna shook her head. “No.”
“You’re sure? Because it’s not too late—”
“I’m sure.” McKenna’s voice hardened. “Absolutely sure. At least, with regards to him. He had his chance. He had dozens of chances. He’s not an option. At all. In any way.”
Paige reached for the box of tissues and pulled two soft sheets. “Look up,” she said, before dabbing beneath McKenna’s eyes. “I know you two had a stormy relationship, but he is TJ’s dad.”
“Then he should have acted like TJ’s dad. He should have been careful. He should have been responsible. He should have put his family first.”
The door to the dressing room opened, organ music swelled in the background, and Rory Douglas, McKenna’s oldest brother, stuck his head inside the dressing room. “I think they’re ready for you, Kenna,” he said.
And just like that, the butterflies were back. McKenna placed a hand across her stomach, calming the flutter followed by a wave of nausea. Coffee with weak toast probably wasn’t the breakfast of champions. “How’s TJ?”
“Looking sharp.” Rory crossed the floor, caught her in a quick hug. “And you, Kenna, you’re one hell of a beautiful bride. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you.”
And just like that, the tears were back, and the knot of hot emotion. She clung to her handsome big brother, fingers digging into his arms, needing the support. “I miss them,” she whispered against his chest. “I miss them so much, Rory.”
“I know, kiddo. I know.” His voice dropped low, his tone husky. “But I’m sure they are here with us today. I’m sure they’re looking down on you, as proud as anything.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, Kenna, I do.” He stepped back and kissed her on her forehead. “Now no more tears. You don’t want to mess up all that make up.” He glanced at Paige who was picking up McKenna’s heavy train. “Does this mean we’re ready?”
McKenna smiled through her tears. “I think so.”
“Then I’ll round up TJ and meet you in the vestibule.”
Chapter Three
‡
Trey sat in his truck in front of Marietta’s St. James Church watching the second hand on his watch, aware of every passing minute.
Two minutes after four o’clock.
Three minutes after four o’clock.
If the four o’clock candlelight wedding had started on time, McKenna would already be down the aisle, at the front of the church, getting ready to say I Do in front of Marietta’s most respectable citizens.
It would be a beautiful ceremony. The bridesmaids would probably be wearing red. It was a Christmas wedding after all.
Four minutes after four o’clock.
If he was going to do this, it had to be now, before she’d said her vows.
He grimaced, aware that his appearance would be problematic. McKenna was not going to be happy to see him. No one was going to be pleased by his appearance…not even Troy, who was sitting inside with his librarian girlfriend.
Common sense and decency forbad him from interrupting McKenna’s wedding.
But Trey apparently had neither.
He glanced down at his watch. Five minutes after four o’clock.
If he was going to do this, he had to do it.
He drew a deep breath, feeling the snug blazer pull across his shoulders. The jacket was too tight. The trousers a little too fitted. It wasn’t his suit. It was Troy’s, and if the hand sewn label inside the jacket was any indication, very expensive.
He didn’t have to dress up today. One didn’t need to be in formal wear to interrupt a wedding, but he wanted to be respectful. This was McKenna’s big day. So he’d borrowed his brother’s suit, and paired it with a black dress shirt, but had passed on the tie—he wasn’t a tie guy. He was wearing black boots with the suit because those were the only dress shoes he owned, but he did feel a bit like Johnny Cash, The Man in Black.
Today the black shirt wasn’t a fashion statement.
Today he’d dressed for a funeral. McKenna marrying Lawrence was an end…the death of a dream. But he wasn’t going into the church to fight, or to protest. He just wanted to speak to McKenna, to make sure she’d recognize his rights as TJ’s father. Because he could maybe—just maybe—accept losing McKenna, but he couldn’t wrap his head around losing TJ.
TJ was his boy. His son. His flesh and blood.
&nbs
p; He loved that boy, too. Fiercely. Completely.
But that didn’t matter in a court of law. Not when McKenna had sole custody, just as she’d had sole custody from the beginning, and let’s face it, no judge would ever take him from his mother, not when the mother was as good as McKenna, and the father as rotten as Trey Sheenan. Or so said Judge McCorkle when he gave McKenna sole custody all those years ago.
Six minutes after four o’clock.
