A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(36)

“Not only are they a direct depiction of your personality, but they make the beautiful, light green flecks in your eyes stand out even more. It’s already sometimes impossible to look away from them, but when they’re highlighted so exquisitely, you can’t help but be captivated.”

I glance away, but he forces me to look at him again. “I’m so embarrassed,” I say.

“The only people in this scenario who should be embarrassed are The Beave for saying such a demeaning thing to you and Brian for even thinking that your glasses are unflattering.” His thumb caresses my cheek, and he quietly adds, “You’re gorgeous, Lia. The glasses accentuate just how gorgeous you are.”

“Th-Thank you,” I say as his words penetrate the sorrow swirling around me.

I glance up at him, expecting a reassuring smile, but instead, I’m greeted by a deep gaze of seriousness. And for a moment, we stand there, staring at each other, his sweet compliment resting between us.

He’s told me I’m beautiful before.

He’s even told me I look hot.

But it’s always felt like what a best friend would say.

But this moment, it feels entirely different.

I want to dive deeper into his statement.

I want to see if there is more emotion behind it or if I’m the one who is only feeling this way, but just as I open my mouth, his phone rings in his pocket, freeing us both from the trance we were in.

“Uh, I’m going to grab this,” he says awkwardly. “Excuse me.” He blinks a few times, almost as if he’s trying to get his head on straight, and then pulls his phone out and answers it. “Uh, hey, Birdy.” Birdy? She’s calling him? “No, it’s okay. What’s going on?” He glances at me and then says, “No, I don’t think I have any plans tonight.”

Um, I thought we were going over the guest list, but then again, I don’t think we planned a time for that.

“Yeah, sure, sounds fun. I’ll meet you there. Text me the info. Yup, see you then. Bye.” He hangs up the phone and sticks it in his pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“Seeing Birdy tonight?” I ask as I awkwardly adjust the large veil at my side.

“Seems like it,” he says and then turns to me with a smile. “Shall we blow The Beave over with your ceremony suggestion?”

“Sure,” I say, feeling weird that he changed the subject so quickly.

“And what would that suggestion be?” He holds up his finger in a jovial way. “Hold on, let me guess.” He taps his chin and says, “Uh, it has to be somewhere unique because that’s who you are, but also something quaint and old school.” He snaps his finger. “The old courthouse.”

“I would love that, but you know it can’t even fit one hundred people.”

“Good thing we’re paring down the guest list then.” He wiggles his brows.

“There’s no way she would go for that, and if I’m going to suggest something, I might as well suggest something that would make her think that she came up with it.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” he says as he folds his arms.

I tug on the veil, attempting to pull it off, but The Beave shouts, “You’re not done with that, Ophelia. I’m still processing how it will look.”

I roll my eyes at Breaker and then shove the clip back on my head. “Well, as much as I hate the club for obvious reasons, they have a beautiful garden out back that would be perfect for the ceremony. People could watch from the balcony of the club, from the lawn, or from chairs in front of the altar.”

He nods. “It’s not exactly you, but just you enough. Want me to suggest it?”

“I hate to say it would be better coming from you, but I think that’s the truth.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” He puts his arm around me and guides me down the aisle toward The Beave. The whole time, my mind is racing about my glasses, about Breaker’s warm voice, telling me how much he loves them, about his date with Birdy, and this damn veil. It all makes me so nauseated. “Mrs. Beaver,” he calls out.

“Yes?” She turns her spindly-like body on us.

“You know, I was thinking, the reception will be at the club, right?” Breaker says so casually that if I didn’t know him, it might be disturbing to see how quickly he can turn on the charm.

“That’s correct,” she says, folding her hands together.

“Beautiful choice, by the way. I went there for a wedding a year or so ago, and it was breathtaking.” God, I hate when he gets like this, all proper. It’s not the man I know. But it’s his business persona, and it’s why he’s gotten where he has because he can charm like no other, just like JP. Huxley, on the other hand . . . well, he’s the hammer. Huxley has a tough time being charming. To him, things are black and white. There is no gray . . . well, besides Lottie.

“It is picturesque.” The Beave studies Breaker. I can sense her wanting to know where he’s going with this.

“And because it’s so picturesque, it makes me think, although this church is beautiful, it pales in comparison to what the club has to offer. I was just there the other day, having a meeting with Clinton Mars. Do you know him?”

Ha!

Of course The Beave knows Clinton Mars. Everyone does. He’s one of the wealthiest men in America. He created a little piece of hardware that goes in every phone, and he’s made so much money off it, he basically sneezes hundred-dollar bills now.