The more I’d learned about the film, the more I’d come to understand just how demanding the work was for everyone involved. Ian liked to downplay a lot, but he had dialogue and blocking to memorize, and so much going on behind the scenes that it had to be stressful.
But he never let on if he’d had a difficult day or an early start. He never seemed exhausted or frustrated with his work. George and I only ever saw cheerful, happy Ian.
The man was a professional. He’d admitted that his least favorite part of being an actor was when everything wrapped and the film was released. Promoting and dealing with the press took a toll, requiring his time and attention in a way that acting on screen did not.
Curious, I’d asked if he wasn’t famous enough to get out of doing the boring interviews and jumping through all those hoops. And he’d said he didn’t think anyone was famous enough to avoid that stuff.
“Let me make you guys some coffee,” Ian said, drawing my thoughts back to the here and now and this wedding-prep meeting.
“Here we go,” I murmured. “Game faces on, people.”
Brady, Candace, and Mercer looked at me like I was insane.
“Actually,” Ian called over his shoulder as he measured coffee beans and twisted knobs, “I wanted to make sure you two were still okay with me officiating. I didn’t think about it when I offered—I was just happy to be involved—but I could see how I might be a distraction.”
The sound of grinding interrupted us for a moment.
“Maybe I put you on the spot when I offered,” Ian said sheepishly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to back out and find someone else. I don’t want to divert attention away. This should be your day.”
With his focus on delivering the first two lattes, Ian didn’t see Candace’s panic.
“No, Ian. No,” she hurried to assure him. “It’ll be fine. The wedding isn’t going to be that big. You’ve met most of the people who’ll be there. We are thrilled to have you included in the ceremony.” She smiled genuinely at this, and Mercer nodded his agreement. “I am confident our guests will be more interested in the wedding than leaking photos of you to TMZ.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but it really was too late in the game to find someone else.
Still looking a little uncertain, Ian nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
Then he shifted back to the coffee maker.
I watched as Candace reached for her mug. She took a sip and immediately spit it back into the cup. Mercer had been in the middle of lifting his mug to his lips, but after his fiancée’s reaction, he set it back down.
I gave him a stern glare, and he sighed and picked it up again.
“Just drink it,” I whispered over the hiss of steamed milk.
Brady stared at Candace, who looked like she was trying to scrape the taste off her tongue with her front teeth.
Fear overtook my brother’s features. With his pants very much on fire, he shouted, “I’m lactose intolerant. You can skip me, bro.”
Liar, I mouthed at him.
Brady shrugged, looking pleased with himself until Ian spun toward the refrigerator.
“That’s okay, bro. I have oat milk.”
“Great,” Brady called with forced enthusiasm.
I didn’t bother hiding my grin.
A few minutes later, we all had various mugs of caffeinated abominations in front of us. I was able to sip stoically, probably in large part to the tolerance I’d built up from all the travel mugs Ian had brought me over the last month. Today’s blend was definitely an improvement over some of his other creations. But still worse than any gas station coffee I’ve ever had.
“Oh, something else I wanted to discuss,” Ian said from where he faced us across the kitchen island. “Eloise asked me to be the grand marshal for the Christmas parade coming up. She wants me to dress up as Santa.”
Candace and Mercer exchanged looks. Brady groaned in sympathy.
“You didn’t agree, did you?” I asked incredulously.
Ian frowned in confusion, and it looked so unnatural on his face that I almost laughed. “Obviously, I agreed. Santa, Joan. I’m going to playSanta.”
