Knowing my mother, she more than likely had pest control out in full force leading up to today, killing off every bug she could so they wouldn’t bother the wedding guests.
“We should probably go to our seats,” Louisa says to me after Wren and Crew leave us, headed for the lawn.
“I’m waiting for my date,” I tell her. “He’s getting me something to drink.”
“Oh? Someone new in your life then?” Her eyes light up. She seems hopeful.
“Just a friend,” I reassure her, touching her arm. “If you’d like to go down, please do. I don’t mind waiting alone.”
She gives me a quick hug and I watch her walk away, that odd sensation still lingering. Like someone is watching me. I glance over at the bar, the line mostly diminished, Cliff seemingly flirting with the attractive bartender behind the counter, two full glasses set out, waiting for him to bring one to me.
Turning away, I shake my head. It figures he’d flirt with the bartender. I never did spot Monty on the terrace. Is he already out on the lawn? I turn to look over the edge of the railing, bumping into something solid.
More likesomeonesolid. A very tall, muscular someone.
“Oh.” I back away, glancing up to find him standing directly in front of me, a glower on his dark face.
Spencer Donato.
FOUR
SYLVIE
I straighten my shoulders,my body trembling as his assessing gaze sweeps over me. I say nothing, afraid my voice might shake if I speak, and I don’t want him to know how much he still rattles me.
“Mrs. Wainwright. It’s been a while.”
His deep, smooth voice washes over me, and I can’t help but flinch at him calling me by my married name.
I never went by it. Not once. They would refer to me as Sylvie Lancaster Wainwright occasionally online, but legally, I never changed it.
I am forever a Lancaster, married or not.
“Spencer.” My voice is level, and I’m proud of my apparent non-reaction to this boy. Man. Definitely a man. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I’m a liar. Deep down, I knew this would happen, though Whit hasn’t brought up Spencer’s name to me in a long time.
“I’m your brother’s best man. He’s one of my oldest, dearest friends.” He tips his head toward me, his expression impassive. As if standing in front of me doesn’t affect him whatsoever. “Whit didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I shake my head, pissed at myself. I didn’t think to ask, but come on.
Subconsciously, I knew.
“I thought you weren’t coming. When you weren’t at the rehearsal dinner last night…” His voice drifts, a single brow arching.
“I stay away from my mother as much as possible,” I admit, falling back into the old habit of admitting my truth only to this man. “We came to a compromise by my agreeing to attend the wedding.”
He’s quiet for a moment, letting that tidbit sink in. “Things still aren’t—well between you and Sylvia?”
“They never will be,” I say firmly. “I don’t trust her.”
The wary look Spencer shoots my way says he can’t trust me either.
I suppose I can’t blame him.
“Shouldn’t you be with Whit?” I ask.
“I had to find the minister for him, so I could give him a message,” Spence explains. “I saw you standing alone on the terrace and thought I would take a chance and approach.”