Chapter Six
Andrew swept his gaze over the room. Mercy and Ian’s wedding reception was like a junior-high dance, with her friends from her travels on one side of the room, and his from work and college on the other.
Andrew was only a little surprised that Mercy's father didn't walk her down the aisle. Despite Dean Rice making amends, her relationship with him was strained. Andrew steered clear of the older man. They met once, at a client summit for R&T. Dean made no secret of the fact he didn't like Andrew's work—and by extension Andrew—and thought he was to blame for Mercy’s founding her advertising agency on something as revolting as selling porn.
As much as Andrew thought most marriages were bullshit scams for both bride and groom, the ceremony had been beautiful. Mercy was gorgeous in an off-the-shoulder gown with a hand-beaded train, and Ian watched her walk down the aisle with what could only be described as pure, open adoration.
Now the happy couple stood with their wedding party, greeting guests and wearing pasted-on smiles. If they could bear their way through an entire night of this, Andrew could wait in line to wish them well.
The handshake he exchanged with Ian was stiff. “Congratulations,” Andrew said.
“Thank you.”
And that was that. Andrew didn’t have a problem with the guy per se, but Ian struck him as lacking in the ever-so-important sense-of-humor and chilling-the-fuck-out departments.
Mercy was next. Andrew kissed her on the cheek. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you. For everything. Ever.” She pulled him into a hug and squeezed.
“Always.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. The gratitude went both ways. He wouldn’t be here—among the living—if it weren’t for her.
He repeated the ritual with Liz, minus the choked-up feeling. Unlike her brother, Liz seemed to know how to enjoy the world.
When he reached Susan, his brain froze. A ridiculous reaction. It wasn’t as though he’d spent the week avoiding her for reasons he couldn’t explain. He greeted her the same way he had the other women. A kiss on the cheek and a brief, bible-between-them, chaste hug. It didn’t stop the familiar scent of sugar and vanilla from drilling into his head and taunting him. She even smelled like innocence and fresh baked cookies.
When he dipped his head close, she whispered, “Can we talk?”
“No.” His promise to Mercy echoed in his head. Talking to Susan wasn’t a bad idea by itself, but something about the request set off warning bells in his head.
He pulled away in time to see a scowl ghost in before her smile evicted it. She turned to the person behind him without another glance in Andrew’s direction.
She was good. How many events like this had she been marched through in her life?
He stowed the question, but it wasn’t as easy to get her request out of his head. Or rather, his reaction. What was it about her that both captivated him and set off his every warning bell—besides Mercy’s simple and reasonable request?
He couldn’t stop thinking about Susan, though, and every few minutes, his gaze drifted back to her. Her naïveté seemed genuine, and her attempts to hide it were standard, but there was more to it—to her—and he couldn’t name what that was.
He shoved aside the thought and worked his way through catching up with friends he and Mercy met while travelling. He caught the attention of Justin Conroy and approached him.
“Hey, old man.” Andrew clapped him on the shoulder.
Justin shook his head. He was only four years older, but when in their early twenties, that had seemed like centuries. “Whatever. Mercy know you’ve got designs on her little sister?”
“It’s not like that.” Was Andrew that obvious?
“Long story, right? You need time to polish it before you share?” From his tailored suit, down to the pewter cufflinks, Justin looked like he belonged on Ian’s side of the dance floor. It was a good mask. The man was a wicked-brilliant programmer, who was more comfortable talking movie trivia than socializing. The tattoos hidden under his sleeves were the result of years of work, done by various artists, in every country he visited. Andrew and Mercy had been there for some of them.
“Never let Mercy think there’s any kind of story. There’s not. Nothing there.”
Justin squinted and studied him. “I’m sorry—what? I think I’m talking to the wrong guy.”
“You’re funny. Barrel of monkeys.” Andrew fought the desire to glance back at Susan. No reason to make this worse. “Mercy hooked me up with your beta earlier this week. You collected all that in five years?”
“I’ve got a good team.”
A movement caught Andrew’s attention, and he turned in time to see Susan vanish out a side door.
“And… I’ve lost you.” Justin sounded amused.