Page 63 of View With Your Heart

“Hey, beautiful,” I greet her.

“Hey yourself, handsome.” The compliment makes me grin.

“Gee.” I hold out a hand, and he shakes mine like a practiced adult. I reach for his bow tie and wiggling it. “Snazzy.”

“It’s a clip-on,” he says, preparing to remove it to show me.

“Not yet,” Britton teases.

“Guys, picture,” a photographer says beside us, and I wrap an arm around Britton.

“Let’s have your son stand beside Mom as he’s almost as tall as you, and that makes you the centerpiece.” He pauses as we arrange ourselves. “Beautiful family.”

I choke on the comment as the flash goes off, but Britton doesn’t correct the photographer. When I glance down at her, her face is pink, and that unsettled feeling from earlier returns to me. I want to tell her we need to talk, but the timing isn’t right.

Instead, I lead Britton through the crowd, reacquainting myself with people I haven’t seen in years. Some I’d never recognize as physical changes have occurred in the last twenty years. Either way, it’s like a mini high school reunion.

Eventually, we’re called to dinner, where I sit separately from Britton as a member of the wedding party. Toasts are given, and finally, I’m able to find Britton and Gee again at a guest table. Holden sits near Gee, and the two play a game on one of their phones.

“Having fun?” I ask of Britton as I take a seat between her and her son.

“It’s been a beautiful celebration.” Her eyes dreamily coast over the decorated barn, and I want to ask her about her own special day. Is she thinking of it? Is she remembering him? I don’t want to be jealous of a dead man, but I am. He left behind a beautiful wife and an amazing son, and I’m not certain he appreciated either of them when he was alive.

“Uh-oh,” Gee mutters next to me, and I turn to him.

“What?”

“Mrs. Drummond,” Holden whispers, and I squint at the older woman approaching us. Mrs. Drummond had been my sixth-grade teacher, and I’d seen her last week in TeasMe!. She’s retired and became a local librarian from what I vaguely remember of her. She’s kind of a prominent figure in the community like Emily’s grandmother had been, but she’s also a busybody. Both boys seem distressed by her approach.

“What did you do?” Britton whispers, leaning over me to speak to the boys as they sit upright, guilty of something.

“Gavin,” the elderly woman states in her ancient schoolteacher voice.

“Yes,” I respond, but there’s an echo, and I turn to find that Gee is answering her as well as me. Mrs. Drummond stops on the opposite side of the circular table, looking from Gee to me and back.

“This is your boy?” Mrs. Drummond asks, only it sounds more like a statement. Like she’s clarifying something to me, and I twist to Gee again. He looks directly at me, our eyes meeting, and I’m reminded of earlier in the day when I gazed in the mirror standing next to Ethan.

Seeing myself for the first time.

Looking at Gee, I’m seeing . . .

“Mrs. Drummond, is there a problem?” Britton asks, and slowly my head turns to her. She sits upright, still as a statue. Her neck is lifted high. Her back stiff.

“These boys were shooting paintballs outside the library the other day.”

Britton’s mouth falls open. “Surely, you were mistaken,” she defends, fighting the fight for her son, but her fingers curl into fists on her lap. It reminds me of Mum. She’d go into battle for me but wage war once we were home.

“Gavin Scott, I expect you to rein in your son.”

“He’s not—”

“You were one mischievous devil as a boy, and I suspect your twin is just like you.”

I turn back to Gee, who’s staring at the librarian.

“Mrs. Drummond, he’s not my son,” I say to clarify. Maybe she’s confused. Maybe something’s not quite right with her.

“Of course, he is. He’s the spitting image of you at that age,” she says, waving out a hand to emphasize our matching appearances.