Page 161 of Sheltering You

Derrick laughed at Michael, who’d ground out the words through clenched teeth. “Sure you are.” Hiding his grin, he turned away from his brother, facing the full-length mirror somebody’d propped against the wall in Sam’s den. He didn’t miss Michael’s scowl in the reflection.

Dad was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, hiding his own grin but not getting involved.

When Derrick and Jasmine had chosen to marry just a couple weeks after he proposed—the Saturday between Christmas and New Year’s—he’d figured he’d be wearing his best suit for the ceremony. Okay, fine, his only suit. He’d just hoped Leila and Sophie would be able to talk Jasmine into getting a more fitted dress than the potato-sack-shaped things she usually wore.

Not that he minded, obviously. He’d fallen in love with the woman inside those shapeless dresses, but he did hope to persuade her during their lifelong marriage that it would be all right to show her figure every now and then.

He adjusted his tie, then smoothed the vest beneath his tuxedo jacket. He’d been directed to wear this, which meant surely Jasmine had found something better than a slightly fancier potato sack for the small ceremony his family had put together.

His tie was straight. His hair was combed back from his face. He’d offered to get it cut for the wedding, but Jasmine had asked him not to. She liked it long. And he liked the way she played with it, her slender fingers brushing against the skin on his neck. They’d spent almost every waking moment together for the past two weeks, eating and laughing and planning and just…being. Watching television and reading books and talking about their days. He’d taken her to his condo, a tiny two-bedroom on the outskirts of Shadow Cove. She’d never been there, and he’d worried she’d be disappointed. It wasn’t as nice as Michael’s house, where she’d been living, with its three bedrooms and two bathrooms. And it was a pale comparison to Sam’s house, this palatial home with all the space and windows and ocean views. Derrick’s condo was a tiny place that shared walls with neighbors and had a pathetic little yard.

He’d been embarrassed as he’d watched her take it in, afraid he’d see disappointment on her face. He should’ve known better.

She’d been delighted. “This whole place is yours?”

“Ours.”

She’d launched herself into his arms and kissed him.

She’d gone from reticent to enthusiastic about kissing, but that day, alone in the house they’d share, nobody looking over their shoulders…

Oh boy.

He’d practically run out the door into the cold December morning, leaving a very confused, slightly hurt Jasmine behind. Hurt until he’d explained, and then she’d blushed and gotten all shy and…

Why anybody waited months for their weddings, Derrick would never understand. As far as he was concerned, the ceremony couldn’t happen fast enough. And did they really have to stay here and entertain guests afterward? Because he could think of a few better things to do.

“You okay over there, bro?” Bryan was seated on one of Sam’s leather sofas, his bum leg propped on the coffee table.

“I’m fine.”

“’Cause your face is a little flushed. Thinking about anything in particular?”

Derrick glared at him. “Thinking I should’ve asked Grant to be my best man. Less talking.”

Bryan just laughed.

“Be nice, son.” Dad used his behave yourself voice. He and Bryan both wore dark gray tuxes, like Derrick’s, though while his tie was the same dark gray as his suit, theirs were pale blue.

As if it had decided to coordinate with Jasmine’s color scheme, the sky beyond the wall of windows was also pale blue, the sun not quite at its zenith. Fresh snow covered everything in a few inches of powder, making the hillside between Sam’s house and the Atlantic below fresh and pure.

Perfect for Derrick’s bride.

Bryan pushed himself up and leaned on his cane. “Michael might not say so, but I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little annoyed.”

Michael leaned against the door, crossing his arms. Funny how similar he was to their father, who stood in almost the exact same posture just a few feet away. Michael wasn’t in the wedding party—only Leila and Bryan would stand up with Jasmine and Derrick—but he’d donned a suit for the occasion.

Glaring at Bryan, Michael said. “You and Sophie just met. I’ve been with Leila for a year, and we aren’t getting married for months. She wanted to put it off so Jasmine wouldn’t be pregnant at the wedding. Which was fine, but now the maid of honor’s gonna be a matron, and my baby brother’s beating me to the altar.”

“As long as you’re not annoyed,” Derrick said.

“Shut up.”

Dad shook his head, Bryan laughed, and Michael, though he was trying very hard to play the part of the irritated brother, couldn’t completely hide his smile.

“Do you guys need anything?” he finally asked. “Mom wanted me to make sure there were no pre-wedding jitters.”

Derrick turned, anxiety spiking. “No jitters here. Why? Is Jasmine⁠—?”