Marrying The Wedding Crasher

Still grumbling, Vince’s teenage niece took off running. Sam’s admirer joined her as she raced past him. Gabe plodded behind them at his own pace.

“Joe, don’t give that boy an inch with Sam.” Vince nodded toward the young pair. “She’s too young to be interested in boys.”

“Brad knows what the rules are and respects them, unlike Gabe at that age.” Joe grinned and it was like looking in a mirror, except for his eyes. Joe was the only Messina who had their mother’s blue eyes. “I hope those are clothes you can get dirty, because we could use an extra pair of hands.”

Vince took stock of his blue jeans and polo shirt, as well as Harley’s similarly casual attire. “We’re good. Are you hooking cars up to the tow truck and taking them somewhere?”

“One at a time?” Joe shook his head. “That would cost a fortune in gas. We found a scrap hauler willing to take the rest away with a double-decker semi-trailer. He comes tomorrow.”

“The rest?” Harley shaded her eyes for a better view. “How many cars are there?”

“Joe already got some running and sold them.” Brit started walking, beckoning Harley to join her. Next to Brit, Harley looked like a beanpole, as if she lacked curves.

So not true.

Harley’s curves were subtle, like her personality.

“We just need to clear the debris between the cars and the road,” Brit was saying. “And then tow them into a line them up on the edge of the pavement for the hauler to take them away.”

“That sounds easy,” Harley said without having any clue how labor intensive it really was.

Vince and Joe fell into step behind the women.

“It would go so much faster if my soon-to-be wife wouldn’t have to look at every piece of debris.” Joe wasn’t fooling anyone with his complaint. His tone was indulgent.

“I’m an upcycle artist.” Brit sniffed and tossed her head. “When I’m not doing hair, junk sculpture is my life.”

“You did the mermaids?” Harley pointed to a sculpture of a mermaid on a bicycle above the service bays.

Vince followed the direction of Harley’s finger.

Designed in metal and painted bright green, the mermaid rode on a red, white and blue surfboard above the service bay doors. There was another mermaid on the grass near the bridge.

“Yep,” Brit said cheerfully. “Mermaids are my thing. You should see the one in my beauty salon. Kiera is my masterpiece.”

Vince couldn’t stop staring at the repair shop. He couldn’t look away. His steps slowed. The sun disappeared behind a cloud.

It should run! It should run! Dad’s freaked-out voice. His silhouette seemed to move through the empty service bay, pacing.

It’ll be all right. Mom’s shadow was close at his heels. Let’s try it again, Vince.

“The place is different now,” Joe said quietly, having stopped beside Vince. “We’ve made changes. It doesn’t feel as if it was ever his.”

His. Their father’s. A man plagued by voices in his head.

“And there’s no trace of her here, either,” Joe said resentfully.

Her. Their mother. A woman who’d spent years trying to make peace with her husband’s many moods to shelter her children from instability, until she became unstable herself.

Vince acknowledged Joe’s comment with a grunt, the only sound he was capable of making.

They moved even with the house. This time it wasn’t a gloomy shadow Vince felt but the icy hand of guilt. His actions had left their family without a reliable parent.

“We’re remodeling the house.” Joe’s words rang with pride. “We tore down interior walls, ripped out all the flooring and removed everything in the bathrooms. You wouldn’t recognize it.”

Oh, Vince bet he would.

He bet he could mark an X on the spot where Dad had his after-work meltdowns. Or stand in the kitchen where Mom would smoke with the window open, hoping Dad didn’t notice the tinge of nicotine in the air.

Vince walked faster.

“Sam and I are living in the apartment above the garage until the house is done.” Joe stopped Vince with a hand on his arm. “I’m saving to buy you out.”

They stood in front of Vince’s old bedroom window. There was a reason nothing had ever grown beneath that sill. After dark, he and Gabe had used it as their own personal entrance.

“You don’t have to pay me.” The three brothers had inherited the property. Vince didn’t want anything from Harmony Valley.

“I can’t give you top dollar.” Joe set his chin the way he had when he was a kid and Vince had told him to go away. “This place was a wreck when we got here. Any value in it is coming directly from my pocket.”

“Keep your money. I don’t need it.”

“Say what you want. There’s a check coming your way.” Joe walked on, back stiff with all his honorable intentions.

If Joe had gone to Texas, he’d have done things differently. He’d have showed up at their mother’s door, introduced himself and told her off.

Vince lingered behind, taking in the property, the small house, the modest business, the cluttered field. Joe might believe things looked different now.

To Vince, things looked exactly the same.

* * *

“HOW ARE YOU holding up?” Vince asked Harley hours after they’d started.

He crossed the trampled paths they’d created to get the cars out, looking attractively scruffy.

Harley’s butterflies threatened to return.

Vince was eye candy. Not checkout-stand eye candy. Nothing that low quality. No. Vince was like the big Easter eggs Harley’s mother bought once a year from the gourmet chocolate shop. When Harley was a kid, she’d thought the fist-size eggs would be filled with more chocolate or thick cream. But, no, they’d been hollow. And so was Vince, carrots aside.

He wanted to project an image that wasn’t real to the people he should have been closest to. That was something she shouldn’t forget.

“Let’s take a break,” he said.

Vince stopped in front of Harley and peered at her face the way a doctor once had after she’d gotten a concussion trying to play basketball. That concussion had her sitting the rest of the season. Not that Harley considered that a failure. Being on the team had made her well-rounded on her college applications. She didn’t need or want playing time. She’d learned her lesson. Playing was dangerous.

Vince, with his thought-stealing kissing talent, supreme good looks and thought-stealing kissing talent—yes, it needed to be said twice—was dangerous. Harley knew about head-spinning danger. She was staying on the bench.

Vince took Harley’s hand and led her toward the garage, dragging her along like a small anchor behind a big boat. “We’ll check in.”