See You Again (Wishful 8)

Reverent Prescott smiled indulgently, and his voice was both wry and amused as he announced, “You may kiss your br—”

The ground began to tremble. A murmur swept through the crowd.

“What on Earth?”

The fountain geysered up, water shooting high into the air and misting the assembly. After one collective gasp—and a few cries of shock—the townspeople watched in stunned silence. No one moved, and not a sound was heard except for the gushing of water. A few moments later, the pressure dropped, and, miraculously, the fountain returned to the happy burble Sandy hadn’t heard since Cam was a toddler.

Norah’s voice rang out in the quiet. “For the love of all things marketing, somebody tell me you got that shot.”

~*~

Pictures had been taken, the cake had been cut, the first dance had been had, and the reception had turned into an all-out street party. Walls of all the tents were open to the fine weather and invited guests mingled with the townspeople who’d just shown up to celebrate the First Couple of Wishful. That was what more than one person was calling them. And why not? Who had given more of themselves to the town than the councilman and city planner? But the cheerful crowd and the falling darkness made locating Waylan Crawford damned near impossible.

Trey hadn’t seen him at the wedding. Neither had any of the officers from Wishful PD, who’d been circulating as guests. Maybe he’d left. Decided that facing all these people wouldn’t be worth it. But that didn’t play for Trey. No matter how uninvolved Waylan had been in Cam’s life, he simply couldn’t imagine the man not wanting to speak to his son on his wedding day.

Since the ceremony itself, he’d stayed within line sight of Sandy as much as possible, without actually catching her attention. They’d had a Moment during the procession. Had she been thinking about their wedding, unconventional though it had been? Had she been missing him? God knew, the past few days he’d felt like he was missing a limb. He didn’t quite know what to do with the unreasonable hope that flared in his chest. So, he stayed out of her way—a feat easily accomplished, as she was tied up with mother of the groom duties.

The speeches started. From the dance floor that had been erected near the catering tent, Norah and Cam eloquently thanked the townsfolk for the part they played in making this wedding happen. Trey circled around the edge, weaving through guests. Mitch Campbell gave his best man speech, then passed off the mic to his sister, as the maid of honor.

Kane appeared like some kind of ghost. “No sign.”

“You don’t really think he’s gone, do you?”

“If he is, the feds are gonna be pissed. They’ve just arrived.”

Applause swept the crowd. Miranda handed the microphone to Sandy.

Sandy smiled at her town, and Trey’s heart gave a little tug to see it. She looked a little tired, but radiantly happy, and utterly beautiful. “Like my son and daughter-in-law, I want to say thank you to every single person who pitched in to make this happen. And I want to give a round of applause and say a special thanks to the man who worked tirelessly behind the scenes—”

“Why thank you, honey.”

Sandy froze as Waylan melted out of the throng and slipped his arm tight around her waist.

That son of a bitch.

Trey edged closer, his hands curled to fists. The police hesitated at the periphery, and every single Campbell was ready to brawl, but no one moved, waiting to take Sandy’s lead. There was no mistaking the death glare she turned on her ex-husband, but she didn’t shout, didn’t shove, didn’t do anything to draw further attention to the wrongness of the situation. Instead, she lowered the mic and spoke in low tones.

Waylan’s voice carried. “I just wanted to say a few words to my boy and his bride.” He grabbed the microphone from her hand.

“Damn, that’s ballsy,” Kane muttered.

The bastard’s hand was on her. Trey wanted to break it, wanted to twist Waylan’s

arm behind his back and drop him to his knees. But he remembered what Sandy had said.

I don’t need you to ride in like some knight on a charger to come to my rescue.

She wouldn’t want a scene, so Trey stayed put, acid churning in his gut.

When Pete took a step forward, Sandy shook her head just once as Waylan began to speak.

“I’m so proud of my boy. My work has kept me traveling, without as much time with my son as I’d have liked, and it’s good to see that hereditary Crawford charm served him so well, landing him not only such a pretty bride, but a place on the city council, and the affections of the townspeople, who came together to make this day happen. Good job, son.” He gave Norah a salacious wink that had Trey rethinking his position on the sidelines.

The unmitigated gall of the man. To reduce Norah to a pretty face and Cam’s accomplishments and relationship with the town to nothing more than the result of a few glib words.

Across the stage, Cam’s hands were bunched into fists, rage written across his face. Norah had him by the arm, murmuring something in low tones. The voice of reason. How much longer would it hold? Trey’s own restraint was wearing thin.

Waylan’s eyes fixed on something well behind Trey. The feds? His arm tightened around Sandy, and he took a step back, pulling her with him.