Resolution (Mason Family 5)

He’s happy. He’s so fucking happy.

I clear my throat. The sound echoes through the greenhouse.

“On behalf of the Mason family, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the marriage of Holt and Blaire,” I say.

The crowd claps. I use the opportunity to inhale and exhale as deeply as I can to settle my nerves.

“My brother asked me to say a few words because I opted out of the wedding party.” I scan the long tables extending from the bride and groom. “I didn’t think anyone would miss me with that many people involved.”

Everyone laughs, much to my surprise.

I clear my throat again. My mind is working overtime, trying to figure out what to say.

“I tried to write a few things down before I got here,” I say, keeping my gaze focused on a basket of hanging greenery just above the violinists. “But nothing felt quite right.”

“That’s why I should’ve given the speech!” Boone yells from his seat next to Oliver.

Laughter bursts around the room.

I use the moment to watch Holt and Blaire.

When Holt first fell in love with her, I thought it was silly and irresponsible. We were in the middle of a giant contract, and Blaire was the ultimate distraction. But now, as I watch her lean her head on his shoulder and him kiss the top of her head, something about the two of them together is … right.

I glance down at Dara. When she smiles up at me, my insides tremble.

“Holt has always been someone I can count on,” I say into the microphone, trying my best to focus on the task at hand—and not the woman sitting right beside me. “He’s superbly intelligent, decidedly rational, and an incredible businessman. He values logic and wisdom, and if there was a problem with anything, Holt could find the solution.”

I take another breath and glance at Holt. He’s a damn good man.

I know what has to be said next.

“I have admired this about him throughout my life,” I say. “But when he told us that he was going to hop on a jet and fly to Chicago to convince Blaire to marry him, I thought he was out of his mind.”

A chuckle ripples around the greenhouse.

“But now, as I watch him with Blaire, I realize something,” I say.

My eyes lock with Holt’s, and an understanding passes between us—something of respect and loyalty—that only we understand.

“I realize that he was right,” I say. “He was right to go to Blaire because she fulfills something in his life that only she can.”

Dara’s hand flexes against the back of my thigh, and whatever I was going to say next is gone.

“With that,” I say, finding a way to wrap up the speech, “I would like to welcome Blaire into the family.”

I hand the microphone back to the woman who brought it to me and sit back in my chair. Holt and Blaire’s family and friends clap, cheering on the newlyweds.

On cue, dishes are placed in front of us. Glasses are filled. Silverware clinks against the sides of china as the reception dinner kicks off.

I gather myself, grateful no one is staring at me after that show, and can breathe again.

Dara leans in, filling my senses with her presence.

“Hey,” she says, her hair swishing against my suit. “That was a great speech.”

“Yeah.”

“It was.” She giggles. “I think you should be a professional speech giver.”

I look at her warily. “Do you now?”

She grins.

I stretch my arm across the back of her chair. Sitting this way, she appears nestled in the crook of my arm, and even though I try not to dwell on it, I can’t stop.

She looks beautiful cozied up to me and completely natural in the midst of the Masons and our friends. If only I wasn’t me …

“Wade?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“Yes?”

Her grin turns from sweet to sinful. It heats my blood as I pull my arm away, needing distance again.

“Are you going to dance with me tonight?” she asks.

Damn this woman.

I face the table. “How about you drink your wine and stop talking?”

Her laughter mixes with the weight of her hand on my forearm.

Maybe it’s the festivities.

Maybe it’s the whiskey.

Maybe it’s her.

But something tells me that tonight is going to get out of control.

Fast.

TWENTY-TWO

DARA

I still can’t believe this is real.

Dinner has been whisked away. The cake has been cut. Wade commented on the extravagance of the dessert, making it clear he wasn’t a fan. I, on the other hand, argued that it was beautiful and a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It should be extravagant.

We agreed to disagree.

The sun has set, and golden-hued lights glow from strands strung overhead. Brilliant chandeliers adorn the center of the venue, casting a radiant sparkle on the glass walls. The ambiance creates a sophisticated, beautiful vibe. It makes me feel beautiful by association.