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“Stripes,” Dane announced, lining up for his next shot. “I suppose Mom wanted to make a good impression on your new fiancée.” Emphasis on the last word.
Simon’s gaze followed number thirteen as it dropped into a side pocket, and he wondered what his brother had thought of the surprise engagement.
“And it’s working,” he said. “She’s looking a little overwhelmed by all the attention.”
“I’m not surprised. Francine got the impression she wasn’t your type.”
Although Simon had a pretty clear idea of the sort of women his family thought he preferred, he asked the question anyway. “What type is she?”
“Unsophisticated.”
“I doubt that was the word Francine used.” Simon fought to keep his annoyance from showing as he waited for Dane to take his next shot. Where did Francine get off passing judgment on Caroline? “It’s no secret that Caroline is as different from Francine as day is to night.”
Better. He should have said Caroline was better than Francine. In so many ways. Her determination. Her softness. No hard edges on the hardworking law student. Maybe a few prickles, but roses needed thorns for protection. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that she needed to be protected from him.
“I can’t wait to meet her.” Dane circled the table in search of his next shot. As he passed Simon, he jabbed the butt of his cue stick into Simon’s abs. “By the way, what exactly was my fiancée doing at your place?”
Simon waited until Dane’s shot missed the pocket, before saying, “She came to tell me she picked the wrong brother to marry.”
Dane laughed as he retreated to one of the bar stools placed against the wall, but he had his lawyer face on. “No really, why was she there?”
“I don’t know. She’s your fiancée.” Simon chalked his cue stick and studied the table. “Why does Francine do anything?”
“Good point.”
Simon sunk two balls in a row, moving fluidly around the table toward his third shot. He’d spent a lot of time practicing this game when he was younger, time that probably would have been better spent studying chemistry or doing his English homework.
At this point Simon could have let the matter of Francine’s visit drop, but nothing about their irregular little triangle had ever sat easily with him. “I thought maybe it was your idea that she show up looking all sexy and gorgeous to rub my face in how you were the luckiest guy in the world and I was a schmuck.”
Dane frowned as he followed Simon’s progress around the table and watched his win slip away from him. “You are a schmuck.”
Simon imagined slipping into bed beside Caroline. Of her pale hair flowing across the pillow and her face relaxed as she slept. Of kissing her awake in the middle of the night and making slow, silent love to her as the rest of the house slumbered around them. A string of curses slid through his mind as his blood thickened and slowed. He could feel each beat of his heart push anticipation through his veins until he ached.
“Yep,” he agreed. “The unluckiest schmuck in the world.” He lined up his shot and sunk two balls at once. All he had left was the eight ball. He planted the butt of his cue on the floor and flashed Dane a smug grin. “Except when it comes to pool.” He tapped the eight ball in.
Dane grimaced. “Best two out of three?”
“Sure.”
They were setting up for game three when Elizabeth came down the stairs. “Simon, can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Can’t it wait?” Dane injected. “We’re all tied up at the moment, and he’s going down.”
Simon had let him win the second game. Not out of some altruistic gesture, but because victory always tasted sweeter when your opponent thought he was going to win. Well, maybe some of his shots had been a little off because Dane had grilled him about Caroline and thrown off his concentration. Until subjected to his brother’s third degree, he hadn’t appreciated how little he knew about her. Maybe he should’ve spent some time on the drive down asking her questions instead of regaling her with amusing stories of his past.
“Dane, you know I hate all this competitiveness between you two.” Elizabeth advanced into the room and plucked the cue out of her elder son’s hand. “I’m sure Simon will make himself available for another game at some poi
nt before you leave. Right now I’d like to talk to him. Why don’t you go upstairs and help your father with the martinis.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Married thirty-five years and the man still can’t make a decent cocktail.”
Simon took Dane’s cue stick from his mother and circled the table to return both to the rack. He waited until Dane’s footsteps faded up the stairs before facing her. “So, now that you’ve grilled Caroline, it’s my turn to be interrogated?”
“Interrogated?” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and lined up Simon in her sights. “Is that what you think I do? You are a horrible boy. Where did I go wrong?”
“Nowhere, Mom. You were a perfect parent. What do you want to know first?”
Returning to her side, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. She smelled like expensive flowers and he wanted to linger with his arms around her until he’d convinced himself she was all right. All his life she’d been the strongest person he knew. The cancer had changed that. Gave him a glimpse of her fear. Forced him to watch as the chemo ravaged her body. Never in his life had he felt more helpless.
“Why did you go out and buy her all new clothes?”
