Anything for You
Page 76
“So are you, honey,” she said. “You should wear a tux every day. Oh, it’s too bad Jess and Davey couldn’t make it! They’re doing okay, though?”
“Yes,” he said, quashing the guilt. Best not to bring up any unpleasantness on his mom’s wedding day. “Davey has a couple minor burns, but they’re good.”
“Glad to hear it. All right, let’s get down with the others for pictures. Doesn’t Colleen look fantastic? She lost that baby weight overnight, it seems! Which was good, because she gained so much, didn’t she? And her cleavage is—”
“Ma. No.”
His mother laughed. “Well. I’m a grandmother at last. Carol Robinson can’t hold that over my head anymore. Can you, Carol?” she added as her bridesmaid came into the room.
“Oh, Jeanette, look at you! You look beautiful! And you’re not so bad, either, Connor,” Carol said.
Connor left his mom with Carol and the other bridesmaids—eight of them, including his sister—and looked around. Ah. There was the groom, leaning against a door and smiling at the women.
“So, Ronnie,” Connor began.
“Call me Dad.”
“I won’t, but thanks. So, Ronnie, I know that you can buy and sell anyone in this town, and you’re possibly connected to the Russian Mob, and the President is a personal friend and all that, but if you hurt my mother, you’re a dead man.”
“Got it, son!” Ronnie gave him a hard hug. “Good talk. Let’s get going, shall we? Give that woman away, Connor. I’ll take excellent care of her.”
Ronnie went outside; Paulie followed as his person of honor. Then the bridesmaids began their march out onto the vast yard. “Oh, Mom,” Colleen said, her eyes filling with tears. “This is a happy day, isn’t it?”
“Knock it off and do your thing,” Connor grumbled.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Jeanette laughed. “Oh, my kids. I love you both so much.”
Seven minutes later, Connor had a stepfather.
With the exception of the food, the wedding reception was the same as all others, give or take. The chicken statues had a certain élan to them, Connor admitted. His headache had subsided to a dull throb.
He took Isabelle so Lucas and Colleen could dance together, and kissed his niece’s little head. Sat on a bench under a tree so she wouldn’t get the sun in her eyes. Her head smelled good, the silky black hair soft against his cheek. She made a little sound, and he patted her back.
He liked babies. Always had.
He missed Jessica.
He missed Davey, too.
His throat was suddenly tight at the image of Davey Dunn, hurt and scared. Everything Jess had said was right—he’d had no business going over Jessica’s head. But it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Jess had seemed so close. He’d really thought that with Davey in his camp, maybe the knot on her heart would loosen enough for him to slip in there, but it didn’t look that way. And he was out of tricks.
Jessica Dunn was not the forgiving type. Not where her brother was concerned.
“Hey there, son.” Pete O’Rourke came down the stone steps to where Connor was sitting.
“Dad.” Weird that both Dad and Gail were invited, but, hey, at least Mom was happy these days.
“A beautiful day, isn’t it?” his father said.
“Yes, it is.”
Pete was looking at Isabelle. “Want to hold her?” Connor asked.
“Oh, sure,” his father said. The baby was passed, but Connor stayed seated, rather than find something else to do, his usual modus operandi for when his father was around.
Dad liked babies, too. Connor watched as his father leaned his cheek against Isabelle’s head and patted her back.
“How’s Gail feeling?” Connor asked.
“Oh, a little tired. The morning sickness is pretty bad. But she’s good. The baby looks healthy.”
“Good.” The breeze came up off the lake, and the sound of laughter drifted in with it. The band was playing “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake, and Connor winced at the thought of his mother dancing to it.
“Dad,” he said unexpectedly.
“Yes?”
Huh. He didn’t really have anything planned to say. “Uh...I just wanted to say something.”
“Yeah, sure! Go ahead.”
His father was a grandfather now. Despite the trophy wife, despite having a ten-year-old daughter and a new baby on the way, his father was getting old.
“You weren’t that bad of a father,” Connor said, then gave a little laugh at the lame compliment. “You were a good provider. You were hard on me to do well and in some ways, that was a really good thing.”
Pete swallowed. Patted Izzy’s back, same as Connor had done.
“And you’re a really great father to Savannah. I’m sure you’ll be the same with the new baby, too.”
His dad’s mouth wobbled a little. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Connor stood up. “Now give me back my niece,” he said. “I think I hear someone puking over by the green chicken statue, and I bet it’s Gail.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A PACKAGE ARRIVED for Davey three days after the fire. Jess didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the postmark was local. “Davey,” she called. “You got something in the mail, hon.”
He came galumphing down the stairs, sounding as ever like he was falling. It never failed to make her adrenaline spurt in familiar panic. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Want me to open it for you?”
“I can do it.”
His hands were better. He said they felt tight, but they didn’t hurt anymore. His face burn was a little more severe, so Jess had covered it with antibiotic cream and a four-by-four bandage.
He got the scissors out of the drawer. “Let me do that for you, sweetie,” she said.
“I can do it, Jess.” He sounded a little...patronizing, actually. She tensed as he ran the scissor blade across the tape. Didn’t cut himself.
Inside the box was a blue knit scarf and a card. “It’s from Miranda!” Davey said. His face lit up. “It’s a get-well present!”
Now that was a shock. Jess had always thought the relationship was completely one-sided. “That’s so sweet.”
Davey grabbed the phone and, clutching the box, went into the living room. A second later, Jess heard him say, “Hi, Miranda! It’s me, Davey!”
He had her number?
“Dave, I mean. Dave Dunn. Thanks for the scarf! Blue is my favorite color!”
Until a few seconds ago, red had been his favorite color. Jess smiled.
“It doesn’t hurt much,” Davey was saying. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow. Hey, who’s your favorite Avenger? Mine’s Iron Man.”
Looked like Miranda did talk after all. Or maybe she didn’t need to, since Davey was going a mile a minute.
“Jess, can Miranda come over and watch a movie with us?” he yelled.
“Of course,” she said. “Anytime. As long as it’s okay with her mother.”
Davey relayed the information, barely pausing for breath. “You can come now if you want. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Oh, okay. Sure! Bye!” His face was so happy, bandage or not. Unable to contain his happiness, he ran out of the room and clattered into the backyard with Chico Three, the dog’s happy barks echoing Davey’s laughter.
“Yes,” he said, quashing the guilt. Best not to bring up any unpleasantness on his mom’s wedding day. “Davey has a couple minor burns, but they’re good.”
“Glad to hear it. All right, let’s get down with the others for pictures. Doesn’t Colleen look fantastic? She lost that baby weight overnight, it seems! Which was good, because she gained so much, didn’t she? And her cleavage is—”
“Ma. No.”
His mother laughed. “Well. I’m a grandmother at last. Carol Robinson can’t hold that over my head anymore. Can you, Carol?” she added as her bridesmaid came into the room.
“Oh, Jeanette, look at you! You look beautiful! And you’re not so bad, either, Connor,” Carol said.
Connor left his mom with Carol and the other bridesmaids—eight of them, including his sister—and looked around. Ah. There was the groom, leaning against a door and smiling at the women.
“So, Ronnie,” Connor began.
“Call me Dad.”
“I won’t, but thanks. So, Ronnie, I know that you can buy and sell anyone in this town, and you’re possibly connected to the Russian Mob, and the President is a personal friend and all that, but if you hurt my mother, you’re a dead man.”
“Got it, son!” Ronnie gave him a hard hug. “Good talk. Let’s get going, shall we? Give that woman away, Connor. I’ll take excellent care of her.”
Ronnie went outside; Paulie followed as his person of honor. Then the bridesmaids began their march out onto the vast yard. “Oh, Mom,” Colleen said, her eyes filling with tears. “This is a happy day, isn’t it?”
“Knock it off and do your thing,” Connor grumbled.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Jeanette laughed. “Oh, my kids. I love you both so much.”
Seven minutes later, Connor had a stepfather.
With the exception of the food, the wedding reception was the same as all others, give or take. The chicken statues had a certain élan to them, Connor admitted. His headache had subsided to a dull throb.
He took Isabelle so Lucas and Colleen could dance together, and kissed his niece’s little head. Sat on a bench under a tree so she wouldn’t get the sun in her eyes. Her head smelled good, the silky black hair soft against his cheek. She made a little sound, and he patted her back.
He liked babies. Always had.
He missed Jessica.
He missed Davey, too.
His throat was suddenly tight at the image of Davey Dunn, hurt and scared. Everything Jess had said was right—he’d had no business going over Jessica’s head. But it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Jess had seemed so close. He’d really thought that with Davey in his camp, maybe the knot on her heart would loosen enough for him to slip in there, but it didn’t look that way. And he was out of tricks.
Jessica Dunn was not the forgiving type. Not where her brother was concerned.
“Hey there, son.” Pete O’Rourke came down the stone steps to where Connor was sitting.
“Dad.” Weird that both Dad and Gail were invited, but, hey, at least Mom was happy these days.
“A beautiful day, isn’t it?” his father said.
“Yes, it is.”
Pete was looking at Isabelle. “Want to hold her?” Connor asked.
“Oh, sure,” his father said. The baby was passed, but Connor stayed seated, rather than find something else to do, his usual modus operandi for when his father was around.
Dad liked babies, too. Connor watched as his father leaned his cheek against Isabelle’s head and patted her back.
“How’s Gail feeling?” Connor asked.
“Oh, a little tired. The morning sickness is pretty bad. But she’s good. The baby looks healthy.”
“Good.” The breeze came up off the lake, and the sound of laughter drifted in with it. The band was playing “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake, and Connor winced at the thought of his mother dancing to it.
“Dad,” he said unexpectedly.
“Yes?”
Huh. He didn’t really have anything planned to say. “Uh...I just wanted to say something.”
“Yeah, sure! Go ahead.”
His father was a grandfather now. Despite the trophy wife, despite having a ten-year-old daughter and a new baby on the way, his father was getting old.
“You weren’t that bad of a father,” Connor said, then gave a little laugh at the lame compliment. “You were a good provider. You were hard on me to do well and in some ways, that was a really good thing.”
Pete swallowed. Patted Izzy’s back, same as Connor had done.
“And you’re a really great father to Savannah. I’m sure you’ll be the same with the new baby, too.”
His dad’s mouth wobbled a little. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Connor stood up. “Now give me back my niece,” he said. “I think I hear someone puking over by the green chicken statue, and I bet it’s Gail.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
A PACKAGE ARRIVED for Davey three days after the fire. Jess didn’t recognize the handwriting, but the postmark was local. “Davey,” she called. “You got something in the mail, hon.”
He came galumphing down the stairs, sounding as ever like he was falling. It never failed to make her adrenaline spurt in familiar panic. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Want me to open it for you?”
“I can do it.”
His hands were better. He said they felt tight, but they didn’t hurt anymore. His face burn was a little more severe, so Jess had covered it with antibiotic cream and a four-by-four bandage.
He got the scissors out of the drawer. “Let me do that for you, sweetie,” she said.
“I can do it, Jess.” He sounded a little...patronizing, actually. She tensed as he ran the scissor blade across the tape. Didn’t cut himself.
Inside the box was a blue knit scarf and a card. “It’s from Miranda!” Davey said. His face lit up. “It’s a get-well present!”
Now that was a shock. Jess had always thought the relationship was completely one-sided. “That’s so sweet.”
Davey grabbed the phone and, clutching the box, went into the living room. A second later, Jess heard him say, “Hi, Miranda! It’s me, Davey!”
He had her number?
“Dave, I mean. Dave Dunn. Thanks for the scarf! Blue is my favorite color!”
Until a few seconds ago, red had been his favorite color. Jess smiled.
“It doesn’t hurt much,” Davey was saying. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow. Hey, who’s your favorite Avenger? Mine’s Iron Man.”
Looked like Miranda did talk after all. Or maybe she didn’t need to, since Davey was going a mile a minute.
“Jess, can Miranda come over and watch a movie with us?” he yelled.
“Of course,” she said. “Anytime. As long as it’s okay with her mother.”
Davey relayed the information, barely pausing for breath. “You can come now if you want. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Oh, okay. Sure! Bye!” His face was so happy, bandage or not. Unable to contain his happiness, he ran out of the room and clattered into the backyard with Chico Three, the dog’s happy barks echoing Davey’s laughter.
