Never Say Never Again

David slipped his wallet into his back pocket, then straightened his tuxedo jacket. “After all, it’s not every day a man has to stand in front of half the D.C. law enforcement community and profess his love for a fellow police officer.” He grinned.

Connor grimaced.

His brother whacked him in the stomach. “What’s the matter, Con? You’re looking a little green there. Don’t tell me you’re nervous?”

“Me? Hell, no.” He stiffened. “I just want to make sure that…you know, that you’re doing the right thing here.”

“Are you kidding? Oh, I’m definitely doing the right thing. Marrying Kelli Hatfield’s the smartest thing I’ll have done in my life up ’til this point.” He smoothed down the front of his shirt, his expression slanting toward the serious. He slowly shook his head. “You know, I thought I had it all figured out before. Life. Career. Love. Then came Kelli and she…well, she proved I didn’t know diddly.”

This wasn’t going anything like the way Connor had planned. He took a deep breath and fought the urge to shake his own head in disbelief and pity for the youngest of the McCoy clan.

“Do you know what that’s like?”

Connor snapped his head up. “What?”

“You know…loving someone. Falling in love with someone. Meeting that one person who makes the whole world look different. Like opening your eyes for the first time.”

Oh, boy, was his brother really in sorry shape. “I like the way the world looks right now.”

David laughed. “I knew you’d say that.” He slapped his hand across Connor’s shoulders, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I hope I’m around when it happens to you, big bro. Now that’s going to be something to sell tickets to.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t go reserving a forum just yet, David. Because you’d lose every stinking cent you’d put down.”

David waggled a finger at him. “You just watch and see if it doesn’t happen to you.”

“Never.” He checked each of his cuff links and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere talking to his brother now. And if they didn’t get out of there soon, he was afraid David would put on a teapot to boil and suggest they reminisce about old times. “You ready?”

“For the past thirty years of my life.”

Connor cringed, thinking that out of the four weddings he’d attended in the past year, this one was going to be the most nauseating yet.

SIX HOURS LATER, OUTSIDE the swanky downtown D.C. hotel, the warm spring sun was setting, birds were singing, cherry blossoms were blossoming. Inside, in a lavishly laid-out ballroom, under artfully painted ceilings and curving archways, a dark cloud hunched around Connor McCoy’s shoulders, threatening to unleash a storm he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with.

He leaned against the bar and eyed the happy couple across the hall as they engaged in the traditional first dance of the night. David’s blond head angled closer to his bride’s ear, murmuring something that made Kelli blush then turn into his kiss. The sight was so intimate, so private, Connor couldn’t help but feel like he was somehow intruding on the moment, despite the very public display, even though two hundred others looked on with him.

He swore under his breath then turned away.

Who’d have thought that one year could make so much of a difference? Twelve months? Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days? He sure wouldn’t have guessed at the same time last year that he would be standing at David’s wedding reception, the only McCoy male still single.

“You look like an accident waiting to happen,” Sean said coming to stand next to him.

Connor’s grimace deepened. Well, okay, he was the second single McCoy male left. Pops was the first. Though he’d never really considered Pops just a male. He was a widower. His father. Not exactly prime bachelor meat up for grabs to the first bidder.

He looked down at his suit. “This is the fourth time I’ve had to rent a tux in a year. The rental-shop girl asked if maybe I wanted to buy the sucker. How do you expect me to look?” He tugged on the sleeves of the jacket, feeling as if the material had somehow grown snugger since he’d had it on earlier that day. Leave it to David to schedule his wedding ceremony at noon, his reception at seven, making him have to wear the suit not once, but twice in the same day.

Sean ordered a brew, then straightened the lapels of his own tailored suit. With his white hair neatly combed, his shoulders wide, he was, in fact, looking very much like an older bachelor up for auction. He said, “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I was expecting you to look happy for your brothers, maybe? Proud?”

Connor nearly choked on his own beer. “Proud?”

Pops grinned, though his gray eyes were watchful. “Yeah. I know I’m biased, but I think our boys have picked themselves a great bunch of women. Don’t you think?”

Connor glanced away. There was something about the way his father had said “our boys” that made his stomach twist tighter than it already was. On the dance floor petite Michelle was pulling gangly Jake onto the parquet floor next to Mel and Marc, who were dancing as if they were the newlyweds instead of new parents.

Speaking of which…

Connor scanned the surrounding tables where draped linens and colorful flower arrangements competed with guests’ apparel. There. There she was. He spotted Melanie’s mother Wilhemenia. She wore a navy-blue dress that reached up to her neck and down to midcalf. But despite the severe clothing, her face was softer than he’d ever seen it as she held up little Sean Jonathon McCoy, named for Sean, and Mel’s late father, Jonathon. Wilhemenia’s lips moved as she said something to the infant, then she pressed her mouth against his temple.

Connor’s gaze moved to his nephew. Three months old. He could still remember when David was that age. And now David was married.

Where did the time go? And why did he have the unsettling feeling that it was passing him by?

Sean cleared his throat. “Certainly you didn’t expect your brothers to stay single, did you?”

Connor blinked at him. It took him a moment to register what his father had said. He shrugged. “Sure, why not? What’s wrong with being single?”

“Nothing. But I think the applicable question here is what’s the matter with being married?”

Connor narrowed his eyes, his gaze again trailing to Wilhemenia Weber. “Are we talking about you here, Pops? Because if we are—”

“No, we’re not talking about me, here. We’re talking about your brothers.” He drew in a deep breath then slowly let it out. “You…well, you’ve made it quite clear on where you stand on my being involved with a woman, so I’m not interested in revisiting that topic—especially since this is the first time you’ve done more than grunt at me in months.”

“I don’t grunt.”

“Whatever you say.” His father’s grin caught him off guard. Connor found himself grinning back.

“Yes, well, I learned it from the best.”

“That you have. And one of these days you and I are going to have a long talk about that.”

“Pardon me. Connor?”

At the sound of the female voice, Connor swung around so fast, his beer nearly sloshed over the side of his glass. He found himself staring at one of the purple-clad bridesmaids. The cute one with the blond hair and the impish smile that looked all of twelve. And came to about his navel standing on the tip of her toes.

“Would you care to dance?” she asked.

Dance? Him? He’d never even set foot on a dance floor, much less danced on one. And he had no intention of starting now. “No.”

The young woman darted away without so much as another peep.

Pops cringed next to him. “You were a bit abrupt, don’t you think?”

Maybe he had been, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his father. “Nope. I’ve found it’s the only way to be. Try being nice and women think you’re playing hard to get. Put them off, hoping they’ll take the hint, and they come back.” He watched the pretty young blonde hurry to rejoin the rest of the wedding party, then shrugged. “Give her five minutes. She’ll get over it.”

Pops stared at him in a way Connor couldn’t decipher and didn’t particularly like. “What?” he finally asked, inexplicably irritated.

Sean shook his head. “Oh, nothing.” He gestured with his glass toward the dance floor. “You know, for David’s sake, you could maybe pretend that you’re having a good time.”

“I’ve never been very good at pretending.”