The SEAL's Best Man (Special Ops: Homefront Book 2) (18 page)

Half awake, half asleep, Jack could
barely register the sound of Maeve’s steady breathing on top of him, or the
gentle weight of her head on his chest.

There was no reason to open his eyes yet.
With the school year over, he could finally start a weekday slowly, skipping PT
and his usual morning rush for coffee. He could hold Maeve in his arms as long
as he wanted, without the annoying scream of an alarm clock waking him.

A dream called to him, and he let it take
over his thoughts. In it, he was with Maeve. They were on the beach in Fort
Story, Virginia, the golden sand warm beneath a couple towels he had carelessly
tossed on the ground.

He’d have to take her there one day, he decided
in his half-conscious state. She’d love it—watching the dolphins racing
along the coastline, feeling the ocean breeze on her skin and in her hair, as
she relaxed on a chaise along the dunes.

If he could just convince her to come
visit him, he could have the time he needed with her to show her how life could
be together. He could see the skepticism in her eyes when he talked about the
future, even in the short-term. With a divorce behind her, he didn’t imagine
she’d be eager to skip down the aisle again.

In his near sleep state, his brain was
calculating. Four days left. Ninety-six hours. About sixty-four of that she’d
be awake. And with all the wedding guests flying in today, bachelor party at
O’Toole’s, rehearsal dinner, wedding… he’d probably only get Maeve to himself
for twelve or so hours of that.

Not much time left.

But he wouldn’t worry about that. Not
now. Right now he would lie in bed and let the images of the sea lull him back
to a dream of Maeve relaxing in his arms on the beach.

Just about to fall into a deep slumber, a
knock at the door made him sit up straight in bed.

Maeve’s eyes cracked open. “Was that the
door?”

The knock sounded again.

He kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah. Go
back to sleep, I’ll get it.”

Glancing at the clock on his nightstand,
he slipped on some shorts, and ran his hand through his hair. His reflection in
the mirror proved that even with a short military cut, a guy could still get
serious bed-head. As his hand brushed against his stubble, he hoped it wasn’t
some Admiral at the door. His beard was way out of tolerance.

Opening the door, he barely recognized
the woman on the other side, her eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears. “Lacey?”

“Hi, Jack.” She sniffled.

“Are you okay?” Lame words, he knew. It
was pretty clear she wasn’t okay.

“Yes.” Her face curled up and tears
started to pour from her eyes. “No. Is Maeve here? She turned her phone off.”

“Yeah. Come on in.”

When Maeve emerged from his bedroom,
Lacey darted into her arms and sobbed.

“Oh my God, honey. What’s the matter?” Maeve
said, sounding as maternal as a woman could get.

“I can’t do it, Maeve. I can’t get
married.”

Oh, shit.
Jack took two steps backward.

“What are you talking about? Did you guys
have a fight?” Maeve’s voice was gentle and calming, a side of her that Jack
rarely saw.

“No. No, I didn’t even talk to him. He’s
at the gym. I left him a message.”

Ouch
. Jack headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Company
was coming.

“Saying what?” Maeve handed her a tissue.

Lacey blew. “That I’m too scared. That I
just can’t do this.”

“It’s just cold feet,” Maeve assured her.

“It’s not. It’s statistics,” she sobbed.

Jack stood baffled. He had taken plenty
of stats in school. Maybe he could actually be of use in this conversation.
“Okay. What statistics are you talking about exactly?”

“Divorce. We don’t stand a chance, you
know? It always ends in divorce.”

“It doesn’t,” Jack offered. “Fifty
percent isn’t ‘always,’ Lacey. My parents are still together. Maeve’s are. Your
parents are still together.”

Lacey reached for another tissue. “Vi’s
getting divorced.”

“Oh,” Jack said, finally understanding. Vi
hadn’t even been married a year yet. The ink on their marriage certificate was
barely dry. “And that’s making you panic about your own wedding.”

“Mmhm.” She wiped her eyes. “She told me
this morning when I picked her up at the airport. She didn’t want to tell me. But
I asked her why he wasn’t coming to the wedding and I kept pushing for the real
answer, you know? She kept saying he was working. But geez, what kind of a man
would suddenly need to work rather than see your sister-in-law get married,
right?” She blew her nose. “I mean, I flew all the way down to Palm Beach to
see them get married. You’d think that bastard could make it up here from
Atlanta. I knew something was going on.” She took the cup of coffee Jack
offered and sipped. “So she finally gave in and told me. He cheated on her.”

“Son of a bitch.” Maeve and Jack said in
unison.

“Yeah. He cheated. On Vi.” She sipped
again, seeming somehow stronger armed with caffeine. Anger flashed in her eyes.
“On Vi! I mean, who the hell would cheat on her? She’s gorgeous. She’s smart. Successful.
She’s every man’s fantasy.”

Jack’s temper boiled. Assholes like this
guy gave good men a bad reputation. “Lacey, when a guy cheats, it has nothing
to do with the woman. It has everything to do with the man. He would have
cheated no matter who she was, what she looked like, or what she did.”

His words fell on deaf ears.

She sat on the sofa. “And you, Maeve. It
happened to you. God, when I think about that prick who left you, I want to rip
his damn balls off.”

Jack fought the urge to cross his legs. He
knew her bark was worse than her bite. “Mick would never cheat on you.”

“How do you know that? How do
I
know that?”

Maeve sat beside her. “You know it,
Lacey. You wouldn’t be with him now if you had the slightest doubt.”

“But he’ll be gone so much, you know? If
Vi’s husband couldn’t be trusted—and they were around each other all the
time. They even worked together.”

“And you’re worried because Mick will be
deployed so much.” Jack sat on the coffee table, opposite Lacey.

“How could I not be?”

Jack lifted her chin up so that he could
meet her eyes. “There’s going to be plenty for you to worry about in the next
few years, Lacey. But Mick cheating isn’t one of them. He’d die first. I’m not
being dramatic. I’m being factual. Hell, I wouldn’t stand up in his wedding if
I had any doubts. Marriage is serious shit in my family.”

“Marriage is shit. Period,” Lacey
grumbled, dropping her gaze.

Maeve drew in a breath, holding her hand
to her mouth. “Oh, God, I’ve done this to you, haven’t I?”

“No.”

She shook her head. “I did. For years now,
I’ve been blasting marriage like it’s public enemy #1.”

“You said it because it’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth. And don’t let your
bitter, spiteful—” Maeve smiled briefly, “—albeit shockingly
beautiful friend ruin your ideas about marriage. Half the reason I’ve been so
bitter about my own divorce is because I had such high expectations. My parents
have a wonderful marriage. And my grandparents—God, theirs was one
destined for a Hallmark channel movie. I wanted that. And because I wanted it
so badly, I think I rushed into it with the first guy who asked.”

Maeve glanced at Jack briefly, and he
wondered for a moment if it was longing he saw in her eyes. Or maybe it was his
own wishful thinking. He stood to get a cup of coffee for himself. If he was
going to deal with anymore of this, he’d do it better with caffeine in his
veins.

Behind him, Maeve’s voice was so sincere
Jack could barely recognize it. “At its best, marriage is a beautiful thing. Imagine,
finding someone you want to commit to forever. Vowing before your friends and
family to do just that. Knowing that you will have each other during the good
times and the bad times. Growing old together.” He heard her pause, and her
voice softened, as though her words were only meant to be heard by Lacey. “If I
could, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Pouring coffee from the carafe, Jack missed,
a trickle of coffee splattering alongside his mug. He was glad to be facing the
other way so that Maeve and Lacey couldn’t see his jaw hitting the counter.

Maeve felt that way about marriage? Till
now, he had thought it might take months or even years to convince her to give
it a try again.

His mind wandered to his conversation
with Mick a few days ago. “We all know where this is headed,” Mick had said. Damned
if he wasn’t right.

Jack snapped out of it at the sound of someone
pounding on his door, right on cue.
Speaking of Mick.

Maeve tilted her head in Lacey’s
direction. “Well, my, my. I can’t imagine who that could be at this hour.”

More tears fell from Lacey’s eyes. “I’m
such a wreck. Why would he even want to marry someone like me?”

“Because he loves you more than life
itself. Don’t throw that away just because
some
men are asses, and
some
marriages don’t work. Yours will. I wouldn’t let you get married to him if I
didn’t believe that.”

Lacey fell apart at the seams, hugging
Maeve. “I love you, Maeve.”

“I love you, too.”

Sighing, Jack picked up the fresh cup he
had just poured and carried it to the door. With four sisters, he was pretty
accustomed to this level of sap. Mick was going to need the coffee more than
him. “Want me to talk to him first?”

Lacey shook her head, and Jack opened the
door.

Mick stood in the doorway, looking like
hell, his t-shirt and shorts drenched in the sweat of his usual morning workout.
“Lacey?” he asked as his expectant eyes met her teary ones.

“It’s just cold feet, Mick,” Maeve
quickly assured him. “Vi’s getting divorced and Lacey panicked.”

“Oh, baby—” he started.

Mick took two steps toward Lacey and Jack
blocked him.

“You are not sitting on my sofa smelling
like that. I get enough shit from Maeve about that sofa as it is. I don’t need
it smelling like the combatives mats at the gym.”

Lacey stood and let herself be wrapped in
Mick’s sweaty arms.

Jack eased up to Maeve’s side. “She must
really love him—to hug him smelling like that.”

Maeve grinned. “Yeah, if we ever get in a
fight while you’re at the gym, promise to shower before you come home to work
things out, okay?”

“Deal.”

Squinting at her reflection in the
mirror, Maeve flipped it over to the magnifying side, and applied her eye
makeup with the prowess of a master. She sighed briefly at the sight of two
tiny new wrinkles alongside her eyes that had emerged overnight.

Frowning, she thought it unfair that just
when wrinkles were starting to appear, she had started needing a magnifying
mirror to apply her makeup, making the tiny lines seem even bigger.

But there was no justice in aging. She
glanced briefly at the tiny bottles of miracle creams scattered around her sink,
which provided no miracles at all.

In the battle between skin and gravity,
gravity always won.

Bess popped her head into the bathroom. “You’re
still putting on makeup?”

Maeve cocked her head. “Well, since I had
to do yours and Lacey’s first, yes, I am.”

Grinning ear to ear, Bess looked at
herself in the mirror. “You did an awesome job. I barely look like myself.”

Maeve couldn’t agree with her more. In
her vibrant bridesmaid dress, with her fiery red curls framing her porcelain
face, Bess didn’t look like a harried mom. She looked 23. And beautiful.

Maeve wished she could get Bess to dress
up like this more. Privately, Maeve vowed to burn every set of worn-down sweats
that Bess owned and force her to do some shopping after the wedding. Even the clearance
racks at Target offered more stylish options than Bess’s bleak wardrobe.

Turning back to the mirror, she focused her
attention on her lips, drawing a delicate line of red with her lip pencil and
filling it in with a dewy cherry gloss. She smacked her lips and, not pulling
her eyes from her own image, couldn’t resist asking, “Do you think I’m vain,
Bess?”

Bess tossed her head back in laughter.

Maeve stared at her, brows arched.

“Oh,” Bess paled. “You’re serious. I
thought you were joking.”

Maeve frowned. “So, I take it that’s a
‘yes.’”

Bess bit her lip, and Maeve winced, seeing
her friend’s perfect lipstick now smeared on her front tooth. “Well, maybe just
a little vain. And in a nice way.”

Maeve stepped back a foot, flipped the
mirror over, and smiled as the tiny lines around her eyes disappeared. To hell
with magnification. “In a nice way,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I guess that’s
okay, then.”

Bess brightened. “Absolutely. A little
vanity is a good thing. Hey—it got me out of sweats and into a nice dress
today, right?”

“And you look gorgeous. Seriously. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking better, except when you had just given
birth to Abby. But that was a different kind of gorgeous.”

“I should hope so. And speaking of
gorgeous, Lacey’s dress is on, but Vi can’t get it laced up right. Can you
help? I’ve got to get Abby in her dress.”

“I’m on my way.” Maeve glanced at her
reflection and gave a little nod. Good enough. Best not to outdo the bride,
anyway, she thought, stepping into the hall on her way to Lacey’s room.

The house was already abuzz. Half her
downstairs furniture had been whisked away to temporary storage to allow for
more seating for the cocktail hour. And now with staff doing the set up, the
noise echoed its way up the stairs, rattling her nerves.

Edith was downstairs helping direct
traffic. The older woman had proven to be a Godsend from the moment she walked
through the door that morning. With all her experience as a doctor’s wife
planning hospital fundraisers, Edith was just the person to make sure things
went smoothly.

Mick had hit the lottery when he had
gotten Edith as a sponsor back in his Academy days. After he and Lacey moved,
Maeve made a promise to herself to keep in touch with Edith. Maeve owed her so
much after today, and she had to admit, she found Edith’s presence a steady
comfort and her advice was always spot-on.

So much like Gram, Maeve couldn’t help
thinking as her eyes caught a glimpse of her grandmother’s picture in the
hallway.

Food was in abundance in the kitchen,
waiting on warming plates and in chafing dishes till the time it would be
served. The smells wafted up the stairs, making Maeve’s stomach growl even
though she had just eaten lunch.

 Turning the corner into Lacey’s
room, the flashes of the photographer’s camera took her aback till she spotted
Lacey, looking radiant and stressed at the same time. Her dress sparkled, with
organza spilling down to the floor in long, dreamy swirls.

Vi stood alongside her, bent at the hip, struggling
to lace up the gown’s corset. Her make-up was perfect, and Maeve expected
nothing less from someone who spent so much time in front of a TV camera. But
her hair today wasn’t its usual all-business updo. It covered her shoulders in
long, loose curls.

“I heard you might need some help,” Maeve
offered.

“This corset is ridiculous,” Vi muttered.
“Why don’t they just use a zipper?”

Maeve laughed, nudging her to the side,
ready to take over. “Because it’s a bridal gown. Not a ski jacket.”

With the bow finally tied, Maeve turned
Lacey toward her. “God, honey. You look like an angel.”

“Mick’s going to fall over when he sees
you walk down that aisle.” Vi grinned as she held both her sister’s hands, and
the camera flashed in response. “Of course, he looked pretty amazing himself. Those
Navy uniforms are damn sexy. All those medals.” She fanned her ring-free hand
in front of her face.

Maeve tilted her head, someone’s image
popping into her brain. “If you like medals, then there’s someone I definitely
want to see you dancing with tonight.” She glanced at Lacey, who seemed to have
read her mind.

“Captain Shey?” Lacey whispered quietly
when Vi’s back was turned. “He’d be the rebound guy,” she warned.

Maeve let her Southern drawl slip out.
“And my, my. What a lovely rebound he’d be.”

Lacey laughed as Abigail toddled into the
room, a cherub in white, crowned with flowers. “Oh, little princess. You look
so pretty.”

Delighted, Abigail tottered back to Bess
and thumped on her mother’s thigh with her chubby hand. “Pretty,” she said,
looking at her mother.

Bess’s mouth dropped open. “Her first
word,” she said breathlessly.

Tearing up, Maeve put her hand to her
chest. “Oh, God. Here goes all of our eye makeup.”

Lacey walked over to Bess and hugged her,
the photographer snapping photos from behind. “She’s right, honey. You are so
pretty. Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

Bess was bawling now. “I won’t.”

Maeve sniffled, reaching for a tissue. The
first tissue of many she’d need today, she imagined. She let out a slow breath,
trying to compose herself.

“And now,” Vi said, the only one who
wasn’t streaked with tears, “for something old.” She reached into her pocket
and handed Lacey a simple ring of white gold with three tiny diamonds sparkling
on it. “It’s from Mom, Lacey. She wanted you to have this. It was her
engagement ring from Dad, back before they had any money and could replace it
with the rock she has now.” Vi tossed back a laugh, slipping it onto Lacey’s
right hand. “I know she doesn’t say it much, but she’s really proud of you.”

At that, Vi’s composure broke, her voice
cracking. “And so am I.” She hugged her briefly and then darted a look at
Maeve. “Oh, God. Where are those tissues?”

Maeve handed her the box. “For something
new, we’ll have to settle for the dress. But for something borrowed, I think I
have just the thing.” She reached into her jewelry box and pulled out her
grandmother’s ruby and diamond necklace and earrings that flashed rose red to
match Lacey’s bouquet.

Lacey glowed as Maeve draped the necklace
against her, the jewelry sparkling against her creamy skin.

Setting Abigail down on the bed, Bess
came over to Lacey, her outstretched hand holding a small box. “And for
something blue, this is from Maeve, Abigail, and me. To remember your time with
us in Annapolis.”

Her eyes already filled, Lacey took the
box in hand. Flipping it open, her breath caught. “Oh my God, you guys. It’s
beautiful.”

Maeve took the delicate bracelet of
sapphires in white gold, and fastened it over Lacey’s wrist.

Brimming with emotion, her friend’s hands
were shaking. Maeve stilled them in her own. “Now, you are perfection,” Maeve
said. “And if I’m not mistaken, I think perfection could use a glass of
champagne.”

***

With the sun sinking lower in the crystal
clear sky, Maeve stood among her dearest friends gazing at her backyard, speckled
with candlelight and flower petals, as Lacey walked up the aisle.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
She didn’t dare look at Bess, whom she
guessed would be drenched with tears by now. She pressed her lips together,
struggling to keep it together. Her eyes darted to Jack across the aisle,
looking completely composed in his uniform, as her first tear fell.

He smiled tenderly in response.

On her father’s arm, Lacey looked calmer
than Maeve had ever seen her. Her eyes were locked on Mick, looking
breathtaking in his Navy choker whites, with his medals glimmering in the
evening sun. They were so right together.

Yet it still somehow broke Maeve’s heart.
Her mind flashed to the day she had met Lacey—at her grandmother’s
funeral of all places. Damned if she didn’t feel Gram’s presence here right
now, holding back the clouds and ensuring a perfect evening for Maeve’s dear
friend.

Maeve glanced at the house adorned with
festive white buntings that blew in the breeze. She would have sold this house
if it hadn’t been for Lacey. She’d still be living in Baltimore, probably
working at the same dead-end firm, aching from the pain of divorce and memory
of cancer.

And Jack? Jack would still be a memory
from her 29
^th
year—a weekend fling that would make every man
since then pale in comparison.

When Lacey reached the end of the aisle, Maeve
took her bouquet so that bride and groom could join hands. She noticed Lacey’s hands
weren’t shaking any more. She was strong and certain and secure. She was right
where she was supposed to be. At Mick’s side.

Even if that took her far from Annapolis,
Maeve knew it was right. She’d let her friend go.

Her eyes met Jack’s again. There was so much
letting go to be done in her future, she thought, her mind drifting to a place
called Little Creek where he’d plant his roots for the next years. She watched
him, his face solemn as he watched Lacey and Mick say their vows.

For a man like Jack, they weren’t words. They
were an oath.

A little hand tugged on Maeve’s dress. Glancing
down, Maeve kissed her hand and then planted it on Abby’s forehead, and the
child beamed up at her in return. Her heart warmed. She’d let go of Lacey because
Lacey loved Mick. She’d let go of Jack because she loved him.

But never you, my sweet goddaughter. I’ll
never let go of you.

“You may kiss the bride,” the chaplain
said. They kissed, Lacey’s hands holding Mick’s face as his arms wrapped around
her waist. The cameras flashed and tears fell. Maeve dared to look at Bess, who
was all but falling apart next to her. Maeve gave her arm a gentle squeeze and
handed her the tissue she had hidden underneath her bouquet.

“I’m really happy,” Bess whispered. “I don’t
know why I’m crying.”

“Because it’s a wedding.” Maeve smiled as
she took Jack’s arm to walk down the aisle.

At the end of the aisle, Jack moved her
off to the side and kissed her.

“What was that for?”

“You looked like you needed it. Are you
okay?”

Maeve sighed as she looked at the crowd
starting to filter out of their chairs. “I’ll be okay when we pull this night
off without a hitch. I’m going to make sure we’re ready for cocktail hour in
the house.”

“Don’t. Edith has it under control. She
said she’d chase us out if she saw any of the wedding party in there till the
photos were done.”

He took her by the hand, following the flashes
of light to the photographer, who was already doing the customary poses in
front of the camera.

Bride’s side of the family. Groom’s side
of the family. Groomsmen.

Maeve’s breath hitched at the sight of
Jack surrounded by his fellow Sailors. The two other groomsmen were SEALs, like
Mick. Yet in Maeve’s opinion, Jack looked more impressive in his uniform than both
of them put together.

Her mind wandered to an image of Jack at
22, fresh out of the Academy. His shoulders seemed twice the size as they used
to be, and he seemed… taller, as though something about the years had given him
a more intimidating stature. He was so different from the young man she had met
so long ago.

The Silver Star that had been pinned on
him just weeks ago glimmered on his uniform, just one medal in a sea of others.
She’d have to ask him what they all meant one day.