The tears pretty much fell like rain at that point.
She cried when Gretchen walked down the aisle and arrived in front of her groom, who, for the first time since she’d met him, was wearing a wide smile. She cried when Hunter lifted Gretchen’s veil and his fingers caressed her cheek as he did. She cried when they joined hands and said their vows, and Gretchen promised to “smack that ass as often as possible” and Hunter’s ears turned red. She wept when they exchanged rings and vowed to love each other forever. And she cried a little more when they kissed, and then Gretchen and Hunter were married.
And she might have cried a little more when the party moved to the reception hall—a big banquet area set up in one of Buchanan Manor’s many many rooms, because Gretchen immediately made a beeline to Daphne and hugged her. She managed to keep her composure when the sad, collapsed wedding cake was brought out and the bride and groom fed each other. It didn’t matter that the cake was ugly—everyone declared it was utterly delicious.
Then, to Daphne’s dismay, the band began to play, the bar was opened, and people began to eat and drink. She tensed, feeling the uncomfortable, unwanted craving rack through her. Just one drink. Just one cupcake. She watched as her twin, Audrey, picked up a bowl of the wrecked croquembouche balls and popped one into her husband’s mouth, laughing as Reese juggled the baby. Yeah, that was pretty much a trifecta of things she couldn’t have: sweets, drinks, and a man that loved her.
She sighed.
Gretchen and Hunter moved out onto the dance floor as the band began to play Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud,” and then a hand slid to Daphne’s waist. “You look like you need to get away,” Wesley murmured into her ear.
Daphne shivered, because he was so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his body. “That obvious?”
“Only to someone who knows you and knows what you’ve been through.”
“Am I a bad sister to leave the party early?”
He shook his head and gave her waist a squeeze. “The only bad sister would be the one that didn’t understand why you wanted to leave.”
A wistful stab moved through her as she saw Gretchen and Hunter press their foreheads together, dancing close. “It isn’t that I want to leave at all.” A server walked past with flutes of champagne, and that awful gnawing returned to her belly. “But I need to.”
“She’ll understand,” Wesley said gently, and steered her out of the ballroom.
A short time later, they were in a car heading back to the city. The sun had come out despite the torrential snow earlier in the day and the roads were turning slushy. The driver cussed as he drove, but he went slow. “We might be here a while,” he called back to them. “Hope you ain’t in a hurry.”
“We aren’t, thank you.” She smiled at him.
“Merry Christmas,” he called back, then turned the radio up to give them a little privacy. Bing Crosby’s voice filled the quiet car and the driver rolled the window up, muffling the music.
Daphne leaned back against the seat, gazing out at the blinding, melting snow. Maybe she’d have herself a merry little Christmas after all. She had family again for the first time in what felt like forever. She was strong and on the road to recovery, however strict. And she was with someone she loved, even if it wasn’t returned.
She glanced over at Wesley and was surprised to see the look on his face was troubled. She knew him well enough to know that when his brows tilted just a hint and he drummed his fingers on his leg, something was bothering him. She reached over and touched his knee to get his attention. “You okay?”
He hesitated.
Daphne arched a brow at him. “No secrets between friends, remember?”
Wesley nodded, and then leaned in to her to whisper in her ear. “Didn’t like that your sister was serving alcohol at her wedding. Thoughtless considering she invited you.”
Aw, that was sweet. “She asked if I wanted her to shut down the drinks portion of the wedding, but she’d already had so many other things go wrong that I felt bad even asking. And the sweets were more tempting than the champagne.”
He nodded slowly. “I can make you a protein pancake when we get home. There’s an eggnog flavor that just came out.”
She made a face at the suggestion. “Protein pancakes are horrible.”
“Not mine.”
“Yes, yours,” she said, laughing. This felt good. It felt normal and right to be here with him, even if they were stuck in the back of a slowly moving car for the next few hours. Wesley had that hint of a smile to his somber face, and she wanted to coax it out even further. “When you leave,” she teased, “I’m going to binge on real pancakes for a day. I’ll gain two pounds and then go to the gym to work them right back off, but at least I’ll get the craving out of my system.”
He glanced down at his big hands, clasped in his lap.
Oh, shit. She’d said the wrong thing, hadn’t she? “Sorry, Wes. I wasn’t trying to throw it in your face. If it’s something you have to do, I understand. I don’t like it, but I’ll understand—”
Wesley nodded slowly, still gazing at his hands. He looked thoughtful, but she knew him. He was wrestling with something. He inhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and then exhaled and looked over at her.
“What?” she asked warily.
“My plans changed.”
She tilted her head, confused. “Your plans changed?”
He nodded. “I quit my job with the label.”