“Sure, sounds good.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip.
The meeting runs late, and we won’t make it back for the wedding rehearsal. There won’t be enough time to fly back and to do a run-through of the ceremony and still have time to get ready for dinner. My father calls my mother and informs her of our dilemma. She is disappointed but understands. I'm hoping Isabella does as well.
Nothing has ever been smooth between us, and this is just one more example of the rocky road we travel on.
We board the plane two hours later. It’s a three-hour flight, so once we land, we have just enough time to make it to the hotel to change and get ready. Carlos and Sebastian are in the back on the Xbox playing video games. My father sits across from me, reading papers.
I just stare out the window.
“She’s fine, by the way.” My father states.
I whip my head toward him. “Who?”
“Isabella. Your mother said she was fine today. No need to worry.”
I sit up straighter, attempting to hide my relief that she is fine. "I'm not worried. I just wanted to make sure she made it down the aisle."
My father drops the folder in his lap, pointing at my chest.
“So? There is no reason you keep rubbing your chest.”
I drop my hand immediately. He chuckles, actually chuckles at me.
“It’s called caring, son.” He points at my chest again, “Thattightness, the curdling in your stomach, the way the air gets sucked out of your lungs?”
He looks me in the eye. His expression softens somewhat.
“That’s what happens when a man cares. We are designed to protect and provide for those we value in our lives. The need to safeguard them, see to their happiness.” He picks up his folder and continues to look at me.
“That discomfort you feel. It is the ache of uncertainty. That you’re failing on one or all of those obligations?”
He picks up his folder and reads. Leaving me sitting there with a growing stab in my chest.
Do I care? Yes, I care if she’s okay. She is my responsibility now and will be until the day we die, according to the priest. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be breaking into shitty libraries to find her. Do I care if she’s going to be happily married to me? Somewhat, but it is what it is.
She’s already furious at me for locking her in the house, so I’m sure the hostility toward me won’t change any time soon. Do I love her like I love my family? My mother? No.
Oh, fuck this Oprah shit! I dig out my files and start to go over them. Better to work than figure out hearts and flowers.
~ ~ ~
We land and pile into the town car, heading to the hotel. I had Danny deliver my tux to the hotel earlier in the day to be picked up at the front desk. I took the rest of my stuff with me before I left. Carlos and Sebastian are staying with me tonight since the wedding is tomorrow. Christopher will be back later once he gets the club taken care of. He’s been having a blast running the club and has been bugging me to make him a partner. Now that I’ll be a married man soon, I should spend more time at home.
God, the ring isn't even on my finger yet and I'm already turning soft.
James checks us in and we head up to our separate rooms. Carlos opens the door to the suite and we throw our luggage into our rooms. I come back out and grab a drink from the bar cart. That unease hasn’t left me since this morning. It’s been there for most of the week, but more so today than any other day.
I’m lost in thought as Sebastian comes around the corner to the bar cart and pours himself a whiskey.
I turn from the mass of windows and watch him. He would have been so much better suited to Isabella than I am. They have so much in common while I’m still struggling to even be nice, according to everyone else.
Sebastian comes in and stands beside me. “Nervous, brother?”
I glance at him and then back out the window. "No, not really. We’re so different from one another, Sebastian. I am struggling to find a middle ground, but she doesn’t make it easy."
Sebastian takes a sip of his drink and looks out the window. He just nods his head in agreement, not saying a word.
He should be the one marrying her. I don’t know what my father was thinking.
