His Plus One by Kate Aster
Chapter 16
- GRAYDON -
Through the windows of the restaurant on the cruise ship, overlooking the twinkling lights of the historic buildings of the Royal Navy Dockyard, I see the light of the sun slowly take on a crimson hue as our third day in Bermuda nears its end.
And it pisses me off.
I should be outside with Hailey right now, enjoying our last sunset in Bermuda, not held hostage in a rehearsal dinner.
“… and that was when I knew that Freya and Mason were meant for each other,” drones some random second cousin once-removed as he raises his glass. “So here’s to Freya and Mason. May the world rise up to meet you, and the wind be always blowing in your direction.”
Half of those of us who are still sober burst with laughter, sharing a look among ourselves as he drinks from his champagne flute, oblivious. He sits back down, looking fully satisfied with himself.
“Isn’t it ‘the wind be always at your back’?” Hailey whispers to me.
“Yeah. And the road rises up to meet you. But after that many drinks, it sounded right to him,” I reply, noting the ample empty bourbon glasses in front of him.
I glance around hopefully.
Please God, don’t let anyone else try to top that last toast.Up until tonight, I’d pretty much had the perfect day with Hailey. But now, we’re forty-five painful minutes into the toasts and we must have heard from half this crowd by now.
Then, once again, another person stands.
“Ugh.” I actually hear the expression we’re all thinking from Freya’s adorable four-year-old niece who is destined to play flower girl at tomorrow morning’s sunrise ceremony. If the little kid can manage to get up that early, that is.
I send her a cheeky grin. Yeah, I’m right there with ya, kid.
“I’d like to toast Mason and Freya,” the guest begins—a great aunt of mine who I’m betting Mason didn’t expect would attend. “You don’t know this, but…”
Fact is, we probably do know this, I can’t help thinking. Because there can’t possibly be another anecdote or pithy story that hasn’t yet been shared in the toasts tonight.
My eyes move to Hailey who is politely watching.
Her gaze is locked on my great aunt, and she has the same respectful countenance that she’s had for the past forty-five minutes of toasts. I honestly don’t know how she’s doing it. She’s a trouper.
I throw back the rest of my champagne, hoping the alcohol will give me the same tolerant attitude my girlfriend has.
My girlfriend.
My girlfriend.I let the two words roll around in my head several times, and each time, I like them more.
It’s not as if I would have let this thing between us advance to this point without being prepared to stick it out for a while. There’s too much at risk. A work relationship. A friendship. Even the success of our mission when we’re in the field together. I wouldn’t have risked any of that if I didn’t think this had some potential.
But when I think of that look in Hailey’s eyes when I told her I was taking her parasailing today… when I remember the way she squealed with joy when she experienced something for the first time… all I can think is that I don’t want the “potential” for more of this.
I want the certainty of it.
I want to always be the one who makes her light up like I did today.
Today, high above the ground, I saw that little girl inside of her who used to believe in fairies. I love that side of her—such a contradiction to the Hailey I see at work.
Fairies. I almost laugh when I think of it now. I guess maybe lots of little girls believe in them. But the idea of logical Hailey believing until she was seven years old…
Seven years old.
Wasn’t that when she lost her mom?
My heart pinches suddenly. I pull my eyes from the woman giving the toast and glance at Hailey. Her gaze meets mine and I force a smile.
God, how that must have changed her. If her mom was sick for five years like she said, she probably doesn’t even have a memory of her mom when she wasn’t battling cancer. Hell, Hailey probably believed in fairies, in pixie dust, in magic spells, in anything that a little kid might think could help her mom pull through.
And then she lost her.
Yeah, that would make me lose faith in fairies too.
I should be alone with Hailey right now, doing my damnedest to make up for a childhood she pretty much lost. I feel like she’s still owed so many smiles and laughs and thrills that were stolen from those years, and I love the challenge of trying to make it right for her.
But instead, we’re trapped in one of the ship’s restaurants with about eighty or ninety people who all seem to think that their toast is The Toast—the one that will touch every alcohol-saturated heart in this restaurant.
Damn rehearsal dinner. It’s bad enough that we’ve got to wake up at the crack of ass to make it to their wedding before dawn. But to put us through this torture the night before seems unjust.
I glance at a table with about five of Mason’s Teammates and their dates, a few of whom already gave toasts that were a hell of a lot more interesting than hearing about the first time Great Aunt Arlene held baby Mason in her arms, or the time that Freya scrolled “boys are stupid” in chalk on her grandparents’ driveway. And let’s not forget the toast that found a way to work in the story about when Mason farted in church when the bishop was visiting our parish, which I’m damn sure isn’t an appropriate story to share at a rehearsal dinner.
And when Great Aunt Arlene sits only to be replaced by another one of Freya’s ample cousins, I’m quite certain I’m going to die.
I’ve survived four years of the Naval Academy, twenty-four weeks at BUD/S, five years as a SEAL, and more missions than I can count… only to be taken out by one-too-many toasts at my brother’s rehearsal dinner.
Four seats to my right at our head table, I hear my mother whisper to my dad, “How do we get the toasts to stop?” and I nearly snort.
Poor Mom. She worked so hard to make this evening perfect for Mason and Freya only to get the evening hijacked by a bunch of half-wasted people giving toasts.
Meanwhile, Freya looks like she was hit by a stun gun, and Mason’s written WTF on his plate with mashed potatoes.
Time to put my foot down.
When Freya’s cousin Lucille or Cecille or something like that sits down, I stand quickly before anyone else can.
“I’d like to offer one final toast,” I begin, adding unmistakable volume for those last three words which earns me a smattering of applause from Mason’s Teammates, “before you all can go outside and enjoy the last remnants of that lovely sunset arranged by my mother herself.” I glance at my mom and she grins gratefully.
“I’d like to toast to my mom and dad, our hosts for this evening,” I continue. I didn’t have a toast ready for tonight or tomorrow for that matter. I’m not the best man. Though as I glance at poor Harris who is sitting next to yet another single woman, I’m thinking one of us brothers might have to serve as his understudy, because it’s just a coin flip whether or not Harris will pack his bags and grab a plane home before the ship leaves port tomorrow at two.
But despite my lack of prep time, one unexpected skill we all gain in the military is the ability to give a toast on the fly. “When I look at my brother Mason since Freya has come into his life, I see more of my parents in him than I ever have before. There’s something in his eyes now—a level of contentment, of happiness, and of complete devotion that until recently, I’d only seen in my mom and dad.”
I glance at Mason, then back to Mom and Dad. “My parents, if you didn’t know, knew each other for four years in college before they actually started dating just after they graduated. They used to tell us that the key to a happy marriage is to first lay a firm foundation. Because on that, you can build anything. That’s what they did, they like to say, in those four years where they got to know each other first as classmates, then as friends, before they ever even thought to fall in love.”
I glance at my mom and her eyes sparkle. And I’d swear it’s from pride—she’d say pride in me, but tonight I think it’s more specifically pride in knowing she produced a son who knows how to wrap-up an evening. “I used to think it was a rare thing—” I continue, “—that most people, unlike my parents, just fall head over heels and then hope that when that spark dies out, they’ll have something to fall back on. But looking to my left and my right, I can see it’s not that unusual at all. Mason and Freya were best friends for two years before they ever thought to go on a date. My brother Carson first laid eyes on his fiancée Natasha when he was just thirteen years old. The friendship between Max and my brother Colt was practically legendary in our cul-de-sac—they’ve been inseparable since they were ten.”
My eyes glance at Hailey for a moment and it strikes me. I’ve known her, worked with her, for four years. Am I following the same path as my parents did? As all three brothers did?
“And I know that Freya and Mason’s love will be just as strong and everlasting as my parents. So let’s raise our glasses one last time,” I say again with liberal emphasis, “to love that is built on a foundation that lasts.”
“To love!” A bunch of Mason’s Teammates raise their shot glasses sending me grateful looks, just as everyone else raises their champagne flutes.
And after they take a sip, I see about half the crowd begin to shuffle, ready to call it a night.
My mom stands and comes to me after I sit. Leaning over, she whispers, “I know I’ve always said I don’t have a favorite son. But for the next fifteen minutes, dear, you’re my favorite.”
I chuckle. “Someone had to stop the train wreck.”
Hailey grins. “That was a beautiful toast.”
“Not as beautiful as you are.”
A single eyebrow rises. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, Graydon. Does that mean you’re hoping to get lucky?” Her tone is hushed and only I can hear her.
I drape my arm over her shoulder. “I’m already lucky. But I hope to get even luckier.”
I lean over and give Hailey a kiss and spot Max taking a picture of us. I wave her away. “Do you ever stop?”
Max laughs. “I’m hedging my bets. If food photography doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll be a wedding photographer. Hey, uh, Hailey, after the reception tomorrow, Natasha and I scheduled some time at the spa on those thermal loungers. Want to come?”
“Sure!” Hailey replies immediately.
“I lost out to girl time?” I grumble.
She gives me a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she says before leaving my side to firm up plans with her newfound friends.
She’ll make it up to me.Even the thought of how she might do it sends a flash of heat through my body and makes my cock perk up.
My mom sidles up to me.
And… that mood is gone.
“She fits into the family well, Graydon,” she says.
“Don’t go there, Mom. It’s too early.”
She shakes her head. “It’s never too early to fall in love, honey,” she tells me before walking back over to Dad.
Harris comes up behind me and thumps me on the back. “You saved the night with that toast. You should have been the best man.”
“Hey, you’re the best man for simply sticking it out. I know what Freya’s been putting you through.”
He casually waves a hand through the air. “She means well. I’ve got two sisters, so I’m used to it.”
Outside the restaurant, I see the older family members head straight to the elevators, and some of the younger ones head to the lower decks where there is usually plenty of entertainment at this hour.
Hailey and I meander through Deck 7, headed to the stairs. Most of the stores are closed. But it still makes for good window shopping.
We stroll at a lazy pace, her hand tucked in my arm, looking through the windows of the shops. They’ve got it all—fine jewelry… cheap jewelry. High-end purses… cheap tote bags with the ship’s name emblazoned across it. Expensive clothing… and cheap t-shirts with sayings like “Ship Happens.”
As we walk by one of the store’s open doors, I ask, “Is there anything you need in there?”
The look she gives me is laced with desire. “There’s only one thing I need right now.”
Grinning, I stoop to pick her up, right there for all the world to see, earning a surprised giggle from her.
“Where are you taking me?”
“If you have to ask, then you haven’t been paying attention.”