Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

Perfect.

Ruby Grace’s sister and best friend stood behind her, and I watched them get just as emotional as my brothers during the ceremony as we watched Noah and Ruby Grace pledge their undying love to one another. They held each other’s hands as Pastor Morris spoke of eternal love and sacrifice and compromise and I knew without a doubt that they barely heard a word of it, because they were lost in each other’s eyes, in the dreams they had built together, in the ones yet to come.

Perfect.

It all seemed to come and go in both slow motion and the quickest hour of my entire life. I was wrapped up in every moment, until Pastor Morris declared that they were now husband and wife and Noah could kiss his bride. When he did, the church roared with applause, and Noah turned to the crowd, thrusting his hand holding Ruby’s into the air while he yanked his opposite fist into his side in a victorious pump. He’d landed the girl. She was his, and he was hers, and their new life together started now.

Perfect.

On the outside, at least.

Because on the inside, under the rib cage that held my lungs and heart in place, and under the skull that protected my brain, and inside the deepest part of my gut?

It was total and complete chaos.

As I’d predicted, sleep hadn’t come for me the night before — not after what I’d discovered. I hadn’t been able to eat this morning, either, because the mere thought of food made my entire body heave in protest. Every nerve, every cell that made up the man I was was focused on that journal entry, on what I’d read, on what my father had left behind as the final clue to solve the mystery of his death.

And the worst part was that I knew I couldn’t tell anyone.

Not yet.

It was Noah’s wedding day — a day he’d been planning for and looking forward to for months. It was a day Mom had dreamed of for his entire life. It was a day to celebrate love and union, not to make my entire family sick with the knowledge that Robert J. Scooter had a Will, and we were in it, and Dad had found it, and Patrick knew about it, too.

And the last request he’d made was for Dad to meet him in the office he’d taken his last breath in.

All of it compounded right on top of the feelings that had been stirring inside me over Sydney — the original reason I couldn’t sleep last night. So, while I forced my best smile for my brother and did everything in my power to be present, to celebrate, to let it all go until the day was over, I was powerless to fight the wave of anxiety that took me under over and over again.

After the ceremony, Ruby Grace and Noah stood near the doors to speak with all the guests in the receiving line. Mom stood on one side while Ruby Grace’s parents — Mayor Barnett and his wife — stood on the other, each of them greeting the guests with a handshake or a hug and a thank you so much for being here.

My brothers and I stood off to the side, waiting for the time when our next job duties would kick in. We each had our role to play in the day, and the next step was transporting the bride and groom to the outdoor reception that would be hosted at the Mayor’s mansion.

I had my hands in my pockets, watching Noah’s genuine grin, wondering how the hell I would tell him and my other brothers what I’d found when Sydney stepped into view.

“You know, as much as you look at home in Stratford High colors, I really like you in a navy tux,” she said, her hand finding the flax yellow daisy boutonniere fixed to my lapel. She adjusted the pen to stabilize it, pressing both hands to my chest before her cheeks flushed and she folded them together at her waist, instead.

She wore a long-sleeve, vermilion floor-length dress with a V-cut neck and an open back that exposed her lean muscles. Intricate lace details covered the bodice, the sleeves made entirely of the same lace, and the long, flowing skirt was a crepe fabric that had a slit up to her left thigh, showing her toned legs beneath. When I let my eyes wander over each inch of her face, noting the light and delicate makeup she wore, my stomach took flight on the wings of a dozen hummingbirds. Her eyes were highlighted with golds and pinks and slanted into the shape of a cat’s with liner, and the way she’d braided her hair over one shoulder left the delicate slope of her neck begging for my lips to graze it. The longer I stared at her, the more my chest ached with the yearning urge to reach for her and pull her into me.