His Brother's Christmas Bride Read online

  “I’ll see you for dinner,” he told her.

  She grinned at him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  So was he. And that was the problem in a nutshell.

  Chapter Five

  Will finished work early to start dinner in apology for missing the night before. Beyond the kitchen windows, Molly tramped through the snow, making notes in that colorful book of hers.

  She was throwing herself into the wedding preparations whole-heartedly. That had to mean she was excited about the big day, right? But was it the wedding or the marriage that interested her?

  He still couldn’t see her and Peter as a couple. Sure, Peter might be attracted to her brightness and enthusiasm. It wasn’t his usual style, but Will could accept it. After all, hadn’t he immediately fell under her charming spell? But what did she see in Peter? In an uptight workaholic with no social life?

  Surely she deserved better than that, right?

  But she was diligently planning for the wedding as if she was enthusiastic for it. It wasn’t Will’s place to change her mind or question her choices, but he did wonder.

  Maybe, when he saw them together, he’d figure it out. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, Peter would arrive, but it had to be in the next few days. Since Molly had arrived, he’d picked up the phone numerous time with the intent to call his brother, but couldn’t convince himself to dial, irrationally convinced his guilty conscience would make him blurt out something he’d regret.

  As long as Molly and Peter were both satisfied with the arrangement, Will was happy for them. And even if one or both of them wasn’t, he still wouldn’t speak out. He wouldn’t put himself in the position of breaking up a relationship, not for anything.

  And if they did break up, independently from him? He still wouldn’t make a move on Molly. She was off limits.

  He only needed to convince himself of that, before he ruined everything.

  Molly came in shortly after, her face flushed from cold and her eyes shining. It did nothing to deter his rampant desire for her.

  “Hey, I said I would help,” she admonished, seeing he was nearly done.

  “You can set the table?” he suggested.

  She gave him a narrow-eyed look, but extracted two bowls from the cupboard he indicated.

  “Can we eat in here?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “As opposed to the palace-sized dining room?”

  She let out a relieved laugh. “Exactly. Far too big for two.” He loved that she was down to earth.

  “My parents loved it, since they could pretend they were royalty.”

  She made a face. “Not something I aspire to. Give me a small and happy life. That’s all I need.”

  Yes.

  Will fell silent, concentrating harder than necessary on dishing up the pasta. That last statement of hers was more telling than she probably realized. Because as much as Peter disliked their parents—as much as Will did—he was much more like them than Will. He worked hard in pursuit of status and respect, like they had, and enjoyed the finer things in life, lavishing money on things Will would never even consider owning.

  From what Molly said, this wasn’t something she aspired to. Would she support Peter’s rise to the top? Sacrifice, so he could achieve that dream? With such different goals and values, could they ever possibly be happy?

  He couldn’t say. And he shouldn’t say. They were adults, making their own choices, and it wasn’t up to him to decide whether they were wrong for each other.

  No matter how much he might want to.

  “Should we have wine?” Molly asked.

  Will hesitated. “Sure.” Lowering his inhibitions around Molly was a terrible idea, since he was already on a knife’s edge. But he couldn’t refuse her when she appeared so eager. And the wine might take the edge off, help him relax after days of being high strung.

  Molly took out wine glasses from the cupboard he indicated, and Will disappeared into the cellar to pick a bottle of red, the nicest he owned. The shelves were mostly empty, but in his parents’ heyday they’d been brimming with all kinds of alcohol.

  Molly was watching him as he came up the steps in the floor and closed the door behind him.

  “That’s neat,” she said with a smile.

  “Lots of room to store the champagne for the wedding,” he told her.

  They brought their food to the breakfast table and settled across from each other. Outside, the moonlight glinted on the snow, a field of white leading to the dark forest beyond. A creature he couldn’t identify scurried across the space and disappeared beneath the trees.

  “I love it out here,” she said. “So peaceful.”

  Will nodded as he poured the wine. As much as this house held some bad memories for him, he still loved it. The peace and quiet, the atmosphere. Nowhere in the city would allow him to have a workshop that size, or go without seeing people for weeks at a time.

  The wedding would be a chance for him and his brother to make new, happier memories here. Though perhaps the place was too tainted for Peter to ever experience the same peace that Will had. His older brother had shielded him from the worst of their parents’ antics, so Will was less scarred than Peter to begin with.

  He’d find out next week, he supposed.

  “Wedding preparations going well?” he asked.

  “Yes. So far it’s turning out exactly how I imagined it. It’s tough to find good people this last minute, particularly in the lead up to Christmas, but I’m making it work.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I always like Christmas weddings. They’re so romantic.”

  Will’s eyebrows rose. “Are they?” Will supposed, if you liked both weddings and Christmas, he could see it. Maybe.

  “Where did you get married? Or is that an off limits topic of conversation?”

  He hesitated.

  “Forget I asked,” Molly said quickly.

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t talk about it much, is all. Ann and I got married in a church. Big wedding, loads of people.”

  “Not your thing?”

  He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “How’d you guess? It should have been a sign that things wouldn’t work out. Though, her constant pursuit of something bigger and better was not what ultimately caused the demise of our marriage.”

  Molly’s eyes went wide. “What did? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Will’s shoulders tightened. He hadn’t discussed what had happened since the divorce proceedings. Though, he’d barely spoken to anyone about anything, so he wasn’t sure that counted.

  He let out a breath. “She cheated.” The words rang out, hanging for a moment between them.

  “Oh, Will.” Molly’s eyes were full of sympathy. “I already know you well enough to figure that was the one thing you’d never forgive.”

  Will’s gaze caught on hers, and held there for a long moment. Connection drew between them, binding them in a way he’d never experienced before. Molly understood him better in one day than his wife ever had.

  Or Ann might’ve known, and that’s why she’d done it. She’d wanted out of the marriage, and had known he’d wanted to stay and try. He believed in loyalty, in sticking with something even when it got hard. He kept his commitments, and had a sense of honor. He would have fought for the marriage, even knowing deep down it wasn’t working, simply because that’s the kind of man he was.

  But cheating was the one thing he never could abide.

  Will sucked in a deep breath and tore his gaze from Molly’s. He ran a finger over the grooves in the wood, his mind remembering Molly doing the same.

  “Yeah. But it was actually worse than that.”

  His gaze flickered to Molly’s to see her staring at him with concern. “What happened?”

  “The guy she cheated with was my best friend.”

  Molly gasped. “She didn’t. How could she do that? Particularly knowing everything you’d gone through as a kid. That’s…cruel.”

  Will swallowed, t
ouched by her empathy. “I don’t know if she meant it to be. She probably didn’t consider my history when she made the decision. I figure she wanted out of the marriage so desperately and took too-drastic steps to get there.”

  “And your friend?” she asked, face thunderous. “What was his excuse?”

  Will laughed bitterly, shrugging. “I honestly have no idea.” He could rationalize Ann’s behavior a number of different ways. But Eric’s? That was still a mystery.

  “Well, if you want to be all diplomatic about it, that’s fine. But if you don’t mind, I intend to be angry on your behalf. Very angry.”

  Will grinned, more naturally this time. His chest lightened for telling her, for her unconditional support of him. “That’s alright by me,” he told her. “I’ll admit I’m still mad, and if I dwell on it too much you’ll probably see me go off the deep end. But that never helps.”

  “I get that. Better to ignore it?”

  “Yeah. I keep myself occupied.”

  “Too occupied, by the amount of pieces you’ve got around the place. Do you ever get out? Have fun? Hang out with friends? Anything other than read and work?”

  Will played with an olive at the bottom of his bowl. “Not really. Don’t have any friends in these parts.” And that was one of the reasons he’d moved out here. How could he stay in contact with his friends after what Eric had done? The embarrassment was too acute and painful. Worse, was every time he saw them, he wondered if any of them had known what Ann and Eric were doing. If they’d betrayed him as his wife and best friend had.

  And he wondered if any of them would have done the same. Would have seduced his wife given half a chance, or let her seduce them, or however the hell it had happened.

  It had been too much, so he’d left.

  Now, he kept himself away from the world, not sure how he’d ever believe in people again. When he’d met Ann, he’d been in the process of rebuilding his sense of trust and stability from what his parents had done in his childhood. Before their divorce, he’d only just pieced himself together, as delicate as a house of cards, and she’d smashed it all down.

  He couldn’t risk his heart again. Couldn’t risk getting involved. A third betrayal would be impossible to come back from. Being alone was easier. Otherwise, he’d spend the rest of his life waiting for another blow.

  “You should make some,” Molly said. “Friends, I mean. Everyone needs friends.” Her voice was light, teasing, but he could sense the truth behind her words.

  He shrugged. “Too many people have disappointed me,” he admitted. “I not sure I could face that again.”

  “Not everyone is as awful as your parents, your wife, and your best friend.” She paused, then made a face. “Okay, that is an abnormally long list of bad people close to you,” she admitted.

  Will chuckled. “See.”

  “But there’s your brother. He hasn’t betrayed you, has he?”

  Will swallowed and shook his head. Peter had stuck by him through everything, saved his sanity during his childhood, looked after him all through his life. No, Peter hadn’t betrayed Will. But Will, staring across the table at Molly, was horrifically tempted to betray Peter.

  “One in five is not good odds,” he retorted.

  “Maybe not. But it was a learning experience, and you’ll pick a better wife and friend next time. Not much you can do about the parents, unfortunately.”

  “I’m not getting married again,” Will said firmly, more to remind himself than Molly. She blinked, and hurt flashed across her eyes so quickly Will was sure he’d imagined it. “And friends? Easier not to try.”

  “So, what? You’ll be a shut-in the rest of your life? Stay here in an isolated home away from civilization?”

  “Why not?” Will retorted. “It’s worked well so far.” The words tasted like a lie.

  “Has it?” she asked, her gaze steady.

  Will couldn’t face those knowing eyes. Again, she knew him so well after such a short time, like she could see deep into his soul.

  “You’re only saying that because you’re hurting,” she murmured.

  Maybe she was right. But did that change anything? No. He had no intention of changing his ways. He was happy here, away from everyone. Not constantly exhausted from second-guessing everyone’s actions. Wasn’t he?

  “My wife—ex-wife—said something interesting once I caught her,” he said, surprising himself as much as he apparently surprised Molly with the statement. Perhaps it was the wine, or the intimacy of the evening, or Molly’s sympathetic, unjudgmental gaze.

  “What did she say?”

  He fixed his eyes on the table, unable to meet her eye. “That I drove her to cheat. Because she always believed I expected her to do it, she eventually did.”

  “And did you?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s tough to figure out how to navigate a relationship when you haven’t had decent role models.” He took another sip of wine, surprised to find his glass was empty. Without thinking, he poured another, and one for Molly, too.

  “Given what happened with your parents, I’m not surprised it took you time to heal. Maybe you weren’t done yet. You might have married too young.”

  Will thought about that for a moment. “Maybe,” he allowed.

  “If you’d waited, you might have been more steady, more stable. More trusting.”

  “Yeah.” Will turned that over in his mind. It didn’t feel wrong. But he’d need some thinking time to figure out whether it was right.

  “Therapy might help,” she said lightly.

  Will laughed. “Probably.”

  “Whether or not you didn’t trust her, it still didn’t excuse what she did. There were about a thousand other better paths she could have taken. Talking to you being number one. Get a divorce without cheating on you would have been much higher on the list. Cheating, after what you’d already been through, was a mean, heartless move on her part.”

  Will let out a long breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. A portion of the guilt that had been weighing on him lifted and a lightness filled him. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to dump on you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “And don’t sweat it. I asked, remember? I am glad you told me, though.”

  They shared a small, private smile, and suddenly it was all too much. Too intimate.

  Will stood abruptly. “I’ll do the dishes.”

  Molly rose at a more normal pace. “No, you won’t. I didn’t cook, so I do the dishes. That’s the rule. Tomorrow night we can swap.”

  “Or tomorrow night we both cook and both do the dishes?” He didn’t know what possessed him to suggest that. Tonight was already enough like a date, between the food and the wine. To cook beside her? That would add another layer, dig him deeper into the emotional quagmire he’d found himself in.

  “I will also accept that as fair,” she acknowledged.

  Unable to leave his guest to do the dishes alone, no matter how much he wanted to escape, Will grabbed a tea towel and dried each dish Molly washed. That awareness was back—had never gone away—the one that made at least half his brain focus on Molly at any given time. Every shift and move and breath. His lungs tightened.

  Will talked to distract himself, asking Molly about her childhood, her teen years. Keeping the conversation to before she met Peter, or her hobbies, like the swing dancing. He wasn’t sure how much he could listen about their life together, about the wedding.

  “I became interested in classic films in high school,” she told him. “The women were so glamorous, so poised and stylish. I wanted to be just like them.”

  “But a funky version?” he asked, eyeing her hair.

  “Exactly,” she said with a grin. “It’s funny how back then, what they wore was considered “in”. Now I wear it, and my parents still aren’t sure what to make of me.”

  “Times change,” he agreed. “You still like those movies?”

  “Of course. I usually prefer them to the
more modern stuff.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They had some problems, but the scripts were so clever. The banter is particularly thrilling, though sometimes it’s the whole structure that’s smart. Like Preston Sturges comedies. That man was a genius.”

  “I’ve never heard of him,” Will admitted.

  “Oh, you must! I’ll find one on a streaming site and show you.”

  Will swallowed at the image of him and Molly, snuggled on a couch together, with a roaring fire and a movie playing. In his fantasy, they wouldn’t watch the movie much at all.

  He shook his head to clear it. “Sounds good,” he said instead. He’d have to make sure the armchairs in the living room were as far apart as possible so he wouldn’t get any ideas.

  “I’ll see if The Lady Eve is available,” she said, almost to herself. “That’s one of his most romantic ones, even though the heroine is a con artist. She’s played by Barbara Stanwyck, so you like her anyway.”

  “You like the romantic ones?”

  “I already mentioned that I’m a total romantic. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

  Will fell silent for a moment. “I’m not sure I believe in those anymore.”

  Molly’s soft hand landed on his arm. “You mustn’t let what happened with your wife define the rest of your life. She clearly wasn’t the right woman for you. And you’re a changed man now.”

  “Changed, like I don’t believe in a happily ever after anymore?”

  She shook her head, eyes hurting. For him? “No, I mean you’ve grown. Your wife felt like you expected her to cheat. Now, you know that’s not healthy, right? So next time you’ll pick the right woman, and you won’t drive her away.”

  Will stared at the plate in his hand, conscious of Molly’s fingers burning through his flannel shirt. He hadn’t wanted to admit he was at least somewhat at fault for what happened between him and Ann. He’d been too angry about the way she’d handled things. But when she’d blamed him, he’d realized he wasn’t totally blameless.

  “You think it’s my fault she cheated?” he asked, still not looking at Molly.