More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

all kinds of flowers we found on the grounds, and topped that with folding white chairs we managed to rent. Thankfully, we barely need more than a handful. There are white covers on the chairs, tied off with bows that match the ocean waters.

Maxon found a tall lattice archway on the property, all but languishing in the garden. He and I moved it to this spot, overlooking the vast, crystal-blue Pacific that’s calmly rolling onto the white sand. We painted it, then everyone pitched in to decorate the arch with fragrant flowers that Keeley, Britta, and Harlow strung together. It looks perfect, like it’s meant to be here.

If everything works out for me and Britta, I’ll be in this very spot next week, staring down a similar setup, taking a deep breath before I—hopefully—slide my ring on her finger for good.

We park.

Two seconds later, Keeley darts up, makeup half-done, hand out for the punchbowl Britta rummaged from her kitchen this morning. “Thanks. Do you need help unloading the car?”

I snatch the plastic bowl back. “I got this. Go finish getting ready. Maxon and I can do the rest.”

“Oh, please keep him occupied,” she begs. “The ceremony starts in ninety minutes, and he’s asking me why we can’t just start now.”

Laughing at that is unavoidable. My brother has never been patient. For that matter, neither have I, and I can only imagine how I’m going to feel in seven days’ time, surprising Britta with the wedding she envisioned and wondering whether she’ll finally say yes.

Strolling inside, I set the bowl on the island and glance around at the covered dishes. The ladies cooked some last night. Maxon and I catered the rest, and the food in plastic dishes has already arrived. There’s also a cake on a stand waiting in the dining room and champagne chilling for the twenty-five guests.

Everything is heartfelt. And beautifully simple for this momentous occasion.

Maxon marches in, looking at his watch, obviously prepared to do next to nothing to keep busy…and stop himself from beating down Keeley’s door.

“You look awfully impatient. You going to make it, man?” I ask, brow raised.

He scowls at me. “Oh, the things I want to say to you right now…”

But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze flips over my shoulder, toward the folding glass doors that have been drawn open, to see Britta coming through, holding Jamie’s hand and wearing a pensive expression. When she realizes my brother is looking her way, it quickly becomes a strained smile.

Somehow, I hold in my grimace. I haven’t asked her if Makaio still thinks she’s marrying him. He doesn’t faze me. She matters. I should find out if she still wants to be the Hawaiian banker’s bride, but I’m afraid to hear her say yes. I still have seven days to convince her to pick me. I’m going to use every moment I can to my advantage.

Despite my brother giving me a hard time about how antsy I am with all the uncertainty in my personal life, I smile. “But you can’t right now. So sorry…”

He sends me a snarky glance. “Fuck you.”

I laugh, then glance around and realize who’s missing. “Thanks for not inviting the parents. I’m sure it was a hard decision for you to get married without either Mom or Dad present.”

“Probably not as much as it should have been. But after Keeley overheard Dad rant at me a couple of weeks ago, despite how peace-loving and forgiving she is, she refused to have him around. And Mom… Apparently Harlow told her I was getting married. She decided to head to Cabo with Marco so she could come back in a few weeks, all refreshed for our little sister’s nuptials.”

I want to say how much her decision completely sucks, though I’m hardly surprised.

“But”—Maxon goes on—“I’ve got the people who are most important to me here. Thanks for standing up with me, man.” He hands me a small, flat box from inside his pants pocket.

I open it to find a sleek brushed-silver keychain with my initials on one side. On the other, he engraved the words MY BROTHER, MY FRIEND.

I’m choked up that, despite my stupidity, we somehow managed to pick up exactly where we left off—very close. We exchange a manly hug, and I know that, regardless of what happens with Britta, I’ll always have Maxon and his lovely wife in my life.

“Thanks, man. I have something for you, too. I was going to give it to you next week but…” This seems like the perfect time.

I pull a business cardholder from my pants pocket. As a good Realtor and broker, I never go anywhere without them. At the back of my stack of cards, I find what I’m looking for, pluck it up, and hand it over.

REED BROTHERS PROPERTY ASSOCIATES is emblazoned across the top. It looks almost exactly like the cards we had back in the day. Updated, of course. I had them made when I ordered the invitations for my wedding. I’ve given this thought and I realize that, three years ago, I was on the right track with life. Then my stupid ass jumped off. Now I’m hoping Maxon thinks I’ve earned his trust back and that he wants to be partners again permanently.

I watch him scan the card, then look at me with a question in his eyes.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“You sure?”

“More than positive. I’m sorry for screwing everything up. I’d love to work with you again, build our business—the way we should have.”

Maxon’s face breaks out in a massive grin. “Hell yeah!”

We hug, slapping backs with manly thumps to disguise the fact we’re both more emotional than our masculinity allows in the moment. “Fantastic. We just need to take that terrible tarp off our sign next week.”

He laughs as he steps back, looking away until he finds his composure. “First thing Monday.”

“Get real, dude. You’re not coming to work on Monday.”

With a sheepish grin, he flashes me something wry and full of white teeth. “Probably not. Maybe Tuesday…”

I’m not holding my breath on that, either.

Before I can call Maxon on it, Harlow strides through the room, wearing a salmon-colored dress that’s almost not okay with me. Sure, it’s high-necked and there’s no cleavage. And technically it covers all the essentials—but barely. It’s so short I worry what I’ll see if there’s a stiff breeze. The waistband is a thick strip of transparent lace that accentuates her small waist. I can’t believe I’m looking at naked skin on my sister’s torso. There’s also no way to miss that she’s got boobs in this getup. I didn’t need the reminder.

“What are you wearing?” I ask.

“A dress.” Harlow looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Doesn’t she look pretty?” Keeley’s mom, Patty, asks as she starts putting some of the catered food in the bulging refrigerator.

I hate the dress but I keep my mouth shut because I like Patty.

I finally met her and Keeley’s stepdad last night. Instantly, I could tell they were great people, and I see from whom Keeley gets her beauty—and her red hair. They oohed and aahed over Jamie, then looked at their daughter as if the clock is already ticking. When Maxon joined in the chant for babies, I suspect I may have a niece or nephew this time next year.

We all bustle around, trying to get everything ready for incoming guests. Britta might have the softest voice of everyone here, yet she’s organizing the troops, scanning the site for any task that has been overlooked, and efficiently assigning it to the nearest warm body so nothing falls through the cracks.

With thirty minutes to spare, it looks as if we’re finally finished. Harlow and Patty head back to check on Keeley. Britta makes to follow.

I grab her wrist and pull her close. “You did good, angel. I know my brother and his bride appreciate you.”

She gives me a tight smile. “I was happy to help.”

She doesn’t seem happy at all.

I squeeze her hands. “What are you thinking? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was just realizing…” She pauses and bites her lip. “This could have been us.”

“This? Getting married?” I pull her close

r. “Angel, it still can be.”

A little frown worries between her brows. It’s her thinking face. “We’ve been living together for a few weeks, and it’s been good. But I’m—”

“Britta, quick! Keeley needs another opinion.” Harlow sticks her head out the bathroom door and motions my angel into the all-female domain.