“The chef would like to see you in the kitchen. He wants to discuss timings for tomorrow’s meal.”
“Sure.” Caitie nodded, standing to follow the waitress out of the ballroom. She couldn’t help but take a final glance back. Not at the dancefloor, but at the two people talking closely in the corner.
Breck stood, too. Caitie blinked, waiting for him to walk over to her. But instead, he leaned down and said something to Rachel before turning and walking out the door on the far side of the room.
“It’s this way,” the waitress said when she realized Caitie wasn’t following. “Are you ready?”
The door on the far side of the room swung closed. There was no sign of Breck anymore.
“Yes,” Caitie said, though she felt anything but. “I’m ready.”
* * *
Breck’s hands were shaking as he splashed water onto his face. Even in the men’s room he could still hear the music blasting out from the banquet hall. Every note made him feel sick. His heart beat pounded in time to the rhythm, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t slow it down.
God he hated Christmas music. Hated the way it made him feel, and the memories it always stirred up in his mind. Of the stereo his mom had in her hospital room, tuned to a radio station that played Christmas hits twenty-four hours a day. He’d sit and hold her hand as she tried to sing along, her lips weakly trembling from the exhaustion the cancer had caused.
It made him feel like that kid again. Seventeen-years-old and losing his mom. Not knowing how the hell he was ever going to take care of his eleven-year-old brother.
Slowly, he looked up at himself in the mirror hanging over the sink. His eyes were rimmed red, his skin sallow. He looked as nauseous as he felt.
Pull it together, he told the man staring back at him. It’s only music. It couldn’t hurt him. And yet his chest ached in a
way it hadn’t for years. This was why he traveled at Christmas. So he couldn’t get caught up in the horror of the season.
The door pushed open. Breck swallowed hard as Griff walked in.
“Hey man,” Griff said, heading for a stall. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” Breck nodded.
“Still up for a drink in the bar after the dancing?”
His stomach clenched at the thought of any more alcohol. “Of course,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It’s Lucas’s stag. I’ll be there.”
Griff washed his hands and put them under the dryer. “It’s been a good night so far, hasn’t it?” he said, loud enough to be heard over the dryer, oblivious to Breck’s unease. “Everything looks amazing. I can’t believe what a great job Caitie did. I knew she was talented but…” he shook his head, grinning. “She’s even better than I thought.”
“It looks great,” Breck agreed. His heart was racing so fast he was worried he was having some kind of attack.
“I can’t believe she’s single.” Griff pulled his hands from the dryer and shook them even though all the moisture had gone. “She grew up to be a gorgeous woman. No wonder Lucas is protective of her.” Griff grinned. “I guess we’re protective, too, right? She’s like our little sister. Nobody’s good enough for her.”
Breck could taste the nausea rising up through his throat. “Nobody,” he repeated. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. There was no way he wanted to see his sickened reflection.
This was supposed to be a celebration. Of Lucas and Ember, and of Caitie, too. And yet all he wanted to do was run as far as he could from the décor and the music and the feeling he’d never be good enough for Lucas Russell’s little sister.
He’d never be able to show her the support she needed. Never be able to revel in her achievements in her business. What kind of boyfriend did that make him?
Less than worthless.
“You sure you’re okay? You’re looking grey around the gills, my friend,” Griff said. “Maybe lay off on the beer until we’re back in the bar.”
“Yeah.” Breck nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“See you in there.” Griff lifted his hand in a wave as he walked out of the bathroom, the jaunty sounds of All I Want For Christmas filling the air as he made his exit.
Breck pushed himself off the sink and blew out a mouthful of stale air. Twenty-four hours and this would all be over.
But right now, that felt like forever.