“No. She would not. I would not. We are not open. And according to you, there is no reason for us to be open.
Belle Mont isn’t a problem
,” Rhett said, in what was supposed to be his best Gage impersonation. “
It’s as good as a done deal
, you said.
Everyone is excited and on board
.”
“It is a done deal, and everyone is on board.”
Rhett eyed him. “Good, because Steph ordered five hundred wedding invitations for our wedding, which will be held at Belle Mont House. So unless you want to be the one to inform her there’s a problem, then you’d better pray there isn’t.”
No way was Gage calling Rhett’s fiancée. Stephanie Stone was a fashion consultant who’d created a media empire out of teaching people how to, “Look runway ready with red-tag prices.” Even her dog had an agent, and over a million Instagram followers. The woman was savvy, smart, and ruthless as hell.
The same three traits Darcy possessed when she’d told him, in no uncertain terms, where he and his client could stick their outside help, before handing him a bill to cover the damage left behind by his rat on a leash.
Gage picked up the pitcher and refilled his mug. “There’s a problem.”
“Shit.” Rhett rested his head on the bar top. “I can’t deal with another problem. My manager booked an appearance while I’m on my honeymoon, my label wants me to meet their foreign markets guy, and Stephanie still has no idea that our honeymoon is a week shorter than planned. Which is why I pay you to handle my problems.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to handle this on my own,” Gage said.
“Yeah well, when you cash your part of the advance we just got from the record label, I’ll remind you of that,” Rhett said, leaning back in his chair, and Gage felt for the guy.
Rhett could barely hold his head up, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was a few pounds lighter than normal. Between playing gigs, recording his new album, and doing the media circuit, his brother barely had time to sleep for more than three hours in a row, let alone plan a wedding.
His career was on the verge of taking off, everyone knew it, including Rhett, who was working non-stop to make sure nothing hindered him from taking it all the way. From Stout to stadiums was the band’s motto. And they were almost there.
So when he asked Gage to fix the problem, Gage wanted to be the guy to fix it. The guy to make all of the shit in their lives disappear. Make it so whenever they saw each other it didn’t feel like there was a gaping hole in their world.
But Gage hadn’t only felt the void of Kyle these last few years, he’d felt the loss of Darcy as well. And seeing her today, a little battered but determined, had messed with his head. So he’d called his brothers. Josh, the oldest, was out of town on business, but the others had dropped what they were doing and come right over.
“Belle Mont House comes with its own wedding planner.” Gage leveled with his brothers. “Darcy bought Belle Mont house a few years back.”
“Holy hell,” Rhett said, his face the same degree of
what-the-fuckery
that had taken Gage three hours to come to terms with.
“Wait. Kyle’s Darcy?” Owen asked.
Gage wanted to point out that she wasn’t his anymore; she wasn’t any of theirs, but knew that they needed time to process. Hell, he was still processing.
He watched as the reality of Darcy being back in their lives began to sink in. Watched as his brothers’ expressions went from dumbfounded to anger, and finally sadness. Gage remembered what Darcy had said earlier, that they weren’t the only ones who had lost out, and found himself wondering who she’d leaned on.
“Does Mom know?” Clay asked, bringing Gage back to reality, back to the only person who really mattered.
“If she doesn’t, she will,” Gage said. “Darcy is adamant that no outside planner can be brought in.” Knowing how his mom would react if she learned Darcy owned the house, he didn’t blame her. “So, unless Stephanie wants to consider some other options…”
“It isn’t just Steph,” Rhett said. “Mom was with her when she got the call from
Wedding
Magazine
. They’ve both been clipping out wedding pictures and talking nonstop about it. I haven’t seen Mom this excited in years. Hell, she’s so excited that we’re getting married here instead of LA, she even made a Pinterest board with ideas that she updates hourly.”
“What if we offer her an out-of-network vendor fee or something,” Owen said. “I do it all the time here when someone wants to book the bar for an event but bring in their own caterer.”
“I don’t think a few extra grand is going to sway her.” After his ill-thought threat, he didn’t think anything shy of a public apology from every member of his family would sway her. “Plus, money doesn’t motivate her.”
“How do you know?” Owen said, crossing his arms in challenge. “She seemed to change her mind the second Kyle’s finances took a turn.”
Gage never agreed with his family’s consensus that Kyle’s financial status had a role in her decision to skip the wedding. Darcy was never looking for a hand-out. She was looking for a partner. Someone to love, who would love her back. “I just know.”
Rhett studied him long and hard. “If you’re so sure that money won’t sway her, then how about you?”
“What?”
“Well, you’re the one who claims to
know her
.” Owen threw up air quotes. “I forgot how close you two used to be before she and Kyle hooked up.”
Too close.
“No way.”
“It’s actually not a bad idea. She’s always liked you, trusted you,” Clay added.
“Not anymore.”
Not after today.
“And even if she did, that doesn’t mean she’d change her policy. Especially for an Easton wedding.”
Jesus
, Darcy was right. Saying it aloud made him realize what an impossible situation this was. Them expecting Darcy to agree would be like her asking Rhett to play at her wedding. Worse even, this wasn’t just her place of work, it was her home.
“She won’t change her mind,” he said, confident now in that fact, even if he wasn’t okay with it.
“She would change it for you,” Rhett said, so serious that apprehension twisted in Gage’s stomach. “And if she’s worried about the house, tell her I’ll bring in my best people.”
“What people?” Gage laughed, but it was more of a release of emotion. It had been one hell of a day and he was about at his breaking point. “You mean your roadies?”
“No, I mean I will have Steph call the company that catered for Oprah when she interviewed her. I will provide background checks on every employee who walks on that property. And I will give every media outlet exclusive pictures from the wedding when it’s over. It might even land her a cover.” Rhett sounded so serious that Gage began to believe that it might work. “And I will personally vouch for everyone invited, as long as Stephanie gets her dream wedding and Mom gets to see us walk down the aisle without a reminder of Kyle hanging over her head.”
“And will you personally apologize for what happened at the funeral?” Gage asked, ignoring the shocked looks on his brothers’ faces.
He’d worked hard to do the right thing, to avoid situations where he treated others unfairly. After seeing the absolute conviction in Darcy’s eyes when she said there was more to the story, Gage began to question everything he’d assumed to be just.
Including how his family had treated her after the wedding day.
“Are we all going to apologize? Because, let’s face it, there is no way she’d feel comfortable letting Mom on the property after the fall-out they had.”
And by fall-out, he meant his mom having Darcy arrested for trying to get her stuff out of Kyle’s apartment, then accusing her in the news for the death of her son.
“When did you become Debbie Downer?” Rhett asked.
Gage had no idea. He was the guy with the plan, the brother who could find an upside to any problem.
Years of negotiating multi-million dollar contracts for some of the biggest egos in sports and music had taught Gage that most life decisions were driven by emotional needs. People didn’t haggle over an extra half-percent—they were searching for validation. The key to closing a deal was pinpointing what that meant to each person, then delivering it in a way that both sides felt as if they’d been heard.
Darcy didn’t want money, and she didn’t give in to threats. All she wanted was an honest conversation. And his brothers were right, the only one who could give her that was him.
Chapter 3
The wedding was in full swing and already deemed a success.
So why couldn’t Darcy pull herself out of the tailspin that Gage had started? He’d always had the ability to get straight to the heart of the matter, and today was no exception. Only this time, her heart hadn’t seemed to matter to him.
Which was okay
.
She herself had made a lot of decisions in recent years where his best interests weren’t a factor. Something she’d thought about non-stop since she told him to take his offer and his dog somewhere else.
Although, after a quick google search, she’d learned it wasn’t his dog, but it belonged to one of his clients. Stephanie Stone, to be exact. One of the most recognized names on the internet, a mover and shaker in the national media, and soon to be renamed Stephanie Easton.
Hosting her wedding would be huge for Darcy—and Belle Mont House. And even though passing on the opportunity had been a smart move, it had left an unsettled feeling that was too intense to ignore. Which was why Darcy needed some perspective.
Behind her, the sweeping music swelled as couples spun around the dancefloor in tuxedoes and elegant ball gowns, love and forever thick in the summer air. While above her, a million or so white lights twinkled, turning the rose garden and bubbling brook trail into a romantic paradise. But to Darcy, the most perfect part of the night was standing on the grass in front of the guest cottage, twirling under the stars.
Darcy stopped at the edge of the foot bridge that separated the main property from her cottage, her heart swelling with love as she watched her two-foot-tall ballerina lead a neighbor boy around the lawn. Dressed in pink feetie-pajamas with little puppies scattered down the front, a pair of Darcy’s pumps, and a veil someone left in the bridal suite decades ago, was the reminder she needed.
Darcy’s reason.
“You didn’t start without me, did you?” Darcy asked.
Kylie stopped dancing and turned around. The moment she saw Darcy her smile went radiant, and she let out a giggle that had the power to change the world.
“Mommy,” she said, clapping her hands and jumping up and down, the heels of the borrowed pumps making little divots in the moist lawn. “Look, Sammy, it’s my mommy. Mommy, did you see us twirling?”
“I sure did.”
“I told her I should be twirling her ‘cuz I’m a boy, but she keeps twirling me,” Sam said, sounding put out.
Kylie jabbed her little fists into her hips and said, “It’s only ‘cuz I know how to do it better. When you twirl me, you step on my veil.”
And even though Sam was two years older, a foot taller, and hated playing princess dance party, he always seemed content to indulge Kylie. Even when he’d rather be playing video games. And it was clear by the sleepy eyes, he’d been playing the doting partner for a little while.
“Well, that was very nice of you to play Kylie’s game with her, Sam.” Darcy looked at her daughter, prompting, “Wasn’t it Kylie?”
“Uh huh,” Kylie said. Then, hands clasped in front of her, she started twisting side to side. “Thanks, Sammy,” she sang.
Sensing his exit had finally arrived, Sam grunted, then ran inside the house, shouting something about video game time as he passed his mom.
“Ten minutes, then it’s time to get ready for bed,” Jillian called back with a smile.
Jillian Conner was the exclusive cake designer for Belle Mont. The two had met a few years back in Mommy & Me. But it wasn’t until Jillian’s husband filed for divorce, and she started baking sweets in her home to supplement her income, that the two bonded. Now, they were close friends, supporting each other through the trials and limitations that came with single-motherhood.
Swapping babysitting hours, craft ideas, and sharing in the joy that came with kids.
“I think Sam’s dance card was full,” Jillian chuckled from the rocking chair on the front porch. She wore ballet flats, khaki capris, and a white top with a bright yellow gauzy scarf twisted into some complicated knot around her neck. Her short chestnut hair was layered and effortlessly sexy. Anyone else might run the risk of looking like a soccer mom, but only someone with Jillian’s grace could pull off holly-homemaker with class.
“I think it’s because the carriage is about ready to turn into a pumpkin.” Darcy made her way toward the lawn to pick up her daughter. “Are you going to turn into a mouse?”
“Not a mouse, a dog!”
“Well, then I’d better get you to bed before you start barking at me,” she said, sending Kylie into an eruption of giggles that filled the night—and Darcy’s chest.
It was crazy how one giggle, one little smile could make all of the problems that had seemed so insurmountable moments ago vanish.