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CHAPTER TEN
The next day, while Jamie took care of brother-of-the-bride duties, Lucy stood in front of a full-length mirror, looking at her reflection. Her hair was styled in a way she never would have chosen to style it, her body encased in a dress she never would have chosen to wear. The dress was pretty but subdued, with a modest neckline trimmed with lace.
Sighing heavily, she slipped on her silver shoes with the lovely but sedate three-inch heels and headed out.
The wedding was being held outside, on the green manicured lawn in the courtyard of the hotel overlooking the beach. As she walked toward where the pretty chairs were all arranged, she noted her casual up-do and dress seemed very similar to what other women were wearing, which both relieved and annoyed Lucy.
Luke, the man Melina had speculated was either a cop or a drug lord, smiled and held out his arm. She took it and let him usher her to her seat. Once she sat down he leaned close and said, “You look very nice today.”
“Thank you. You look handsome, as well.” And he did. Even when he smiled, Luke exuded danger. He was definitely a bad boy. Yet to her surprise, aside from noticing he was indeed good-looking, Lucy didn’t feel that heady tug of attraction she was expecting herself to feel. It was almost as if Jamison Whitcomb the Fourth had ruined her for other men.
She was seated at the end of the aisle somewhere near the middle. She could see Jamie near the front, looking good enough to eat in his black tux with burgundy vest and tie. She watched him talking and laughing with his friend Cole. And she noticed that several women seated around her were also looking at him.
Did they know he was as nice as he was sexy? And whereas Lucy had once thought those two things couldn’t truly be compatible, she knew his kind heart only made him that much more sexy.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his gaze suddenly found hers and he smiled. Then he really looked at her, studying her from head to toe. He smiled again and mouthed the word, “Wow,” and fanned himself with his hand.
She felt herself blush, which pissed her off. She wasn’t the blushing type. She turned away quickly, only to jerk when she saw the two couples standing in the aisle next to her.
Mason’s parents, and his sister Diana and her date, likely her husband.
Mason’s mother smiled.
After all these years, Lucy still remembered Evelyn Lancaster’s smile. This was a pale imitation. That sparkle in her eyes, the way her whole face would light up when her son was in the room, was missing. There were deep lines around her blue eyes, and Lucy wondered how many of those lines came from the hours she’d spent crying over the loss of her son. Evelyn always had high cheekbones, but now they stood out so prominently she looked gaunt. There obviously wasn’t enough money in the world to erase the toll heartache had taken on her. Lucy’s heart ached for Evelyn in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible.
“Hello, Lucy.”
“Hello.” She stood. “I’m very sorry about Mason. At the hospital, I didn’t get the chance to tell you.” Her parents had attended Mason’s funeral, but she hadn’t been invited. And the Lancasters had left Gail’s funeral as soon as it was over—too emotional to stay to chat, Lucy figured.
“Of course not, dear. You were very upset. We all were, of course.”
Mason’s father nodded. She remembered him as a giant of a man, but in reality, he was a couple of inches under six feet. His eyes were almond-shaped and the color of chestnuts, and when she was younger they’d always seemed cold. His wide nose had seemed to flare like an angry bull’s when she was in room, confirming his distaste for her. Now his eyes just looked aged and a little bit sad.
She had to wonder how much of her memories had been skewed by her own youthful insecurities.
Lucy could see Mason in him and she wondered how a father could stand to lose a part of himself that way. Was Mason’s sister a comfort to them now?
Would I be a comfort to my parents?
What kind of daughter lets her parents go through losing a child alone?
She looked at Mason’s sister, Diana, as they took seats in the row behind Lucy. She was dressed in a designer gown, her brown hair swept gracefully back from her face and fastened in a smart bun at the nape of her neck, her lashes long and dark and undoubtedly extensions, and she didn’t look grief stricken. But if someone stood Lucy in front of a mirror right now, would they be able to see the pain of losing Gail? Just because they couldn’t didn’t mean it wasn’t there. That it would always be there.
Mason’s mother leaned toward her. “Your dress is lovely, dear. You look like a princess.”
“Thank you,” she said. She looked down at her dress. It wasn’t her, but the back…she liked the back of it. The lace met in a V across her upper back and then it was open to the waist. Sexy in a classy way.
She rolled her eyes suddenly and thought, Keep it up, Lucy, and you’ll be a Stepford Wife before you know it.
“How is Milly?” she asked, unable to help herself.
Evelyn’s face grew soft at the mention of her grandchild. She nodded toward Diana, and said, “Diana is doing a great job caring for her, and the baby is growing each day.”
A tug pulled at Lucy’s heart. Her sister had wanted her to have custody of her daughter, this woman was trying to stop that. Yet…
She caught a brief glance between Evelyn and Diana—a glance containing love and support.
At least Gail could rest well knowing Milly was surrounded by people who not only wanted her, but loved her, too.
