Return of the Last McKenna. Shirley Jump
on yet. We planned this whole thing pretty fast, because all I want to do is wake up next to Stace every day of my life.” Riley grinned, then narrowed his eyes. “Hey, since when do you bring dessert to a get-together? Or heck, offer anything other than a reminder to get my flu shot?”
Brody scowled. “I thought it’d be nice for you and Stace.”
Riley leaned forward, studying his older brother’s face. “Wait…did you say bakery? Is it the one owned by that guy’s sister?”
“Yeah.” Brody shrugged, concentrated on drinking his water. “It is. But that’s not—”
“Oh.” Riley paused a second. “Okay. I get it. Good idea.”
“I’m just offering to help defray the costs of your wedding.”
“Whatever spin you want to put on it is fine with me.” Riley chuckled. “Stace talked about baking the cake herself, but she’s so busy with the diner, and then planning this thing. Let me talk to Stace and see if that works for her. I’ll do that right now, in fact.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I don’t mind, Brody. Not one bit.” Riley’s face filled with sympathy. Riley knew very little about Brody’s time in Afghanistan. A few facts, but no real details, and only because Riley had brought over a six-pack of beer to welcome Brody home, and by the third one, Brody had started talking. He’d told Riley one of the military guys who had died had been local, that he’d struck up a friendship with the man before he died. But that was all. Brody had hoped broaching the subject would be cathartic. Instead, in the morning he had a hangover and ten times more regrets.
Riley flipped out his cell phone and dialed. “How’s the prettiest bride in Boston today?”
Brody heard Stace laugh on the other end. He turned away, watched the hum of activity in the restaurant. Waitstaff bustling back and forth, the bartender joking with a few regulars, the tables filling and emptying like tidal pools.
“Stace loves the idea,” Riley said, closing the phone and tucking it back into his pocket. “She said to tell you our colors are—”
“Your colors?” Brody chuckled. “You have a color scheme there, Riley?”
A flush filled his younger brother’s cheeks. “Hey, if it makes Stace happy, it makes me happy. Anyway, go for bright pink and purple. Morning glories, you know?”
Brody nodded. His brother had told him about the meaning behind the diner Stace owned. The one started years before by her father, and decorated with the flowers that he had said reminded him of his daughter. A sentimental gift to a daughter he’d loved very much. “That’ll be nice.”
“Yeah,” Riley said, as a quiet smile stole across his face, “it will.”
How Brody envied his brother that smile. The peace in his features. The happiness he wore like a comfortable shirt.
It was the same thing Brody had been searching for, and not finding. He’d thought maybe if he stopped by and talked to Kate, made a step toward the promise he’d made, it would help. If anything, it had stirred a need in him to do more, to do…something.
Hence, the cupcakes. Now that he’d opened his big mouth, he’d need to go back there and place the order.
Damn.
“So how is work going?” Brody said before Riley turned the conversation around again. His brother had started an after school program at the arts centered high school he’d once attended. For creative, energetic Riley, the job fit well.
“Awesome. The kids at the Wilmont Academy are loving the program. So much, we opened it up to other kids in the area. We’re already talking about expanding it in size and number of schools.”
“That’s great.” The waitress brought their food and laid a steaming platter of mini burgers and fries in front of Riley, a Waldorf salad in front of Brody.
“Why do you eat that crap?” Brody said. “You know what it’s doing to your arteries. With our family history—”
Riley put up a hand. “I love you, Brody, I really do, but if you say anything about my fries, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
“I just worry about you.”
“And I appreciate it. I’ll do an extra mile on the treadmill tonight if that makes you feel better.”
“It does. Did you get your flu—”
Riley tick-tocked a finger. “Don’t go all doctor on me. I’m out to lunch with my brother, and we’re talking about my job. Okay?”
Brody grinned. “Okay.”
As if to add an exclamation point to the conversation, Riley popped a fry into his mouth. “Things at Wilmont, like I said, are going great. We’ve got classes in woodworking, dance, film, you name it. They’re filling up fast.”
“That’s great.”
“Oh, yeah, before I forget. We’re having a career day next month and we’re looking for people to speak to the kids about their jobs. Answer questions about education requirements, things like that.” Riley fiddled with a fry. “Maybe you could come in and do a little presentation on going into medicine. You know, a day in the life of a doctor, that kind of thing.”
Brody pushed his salad to the side, his appetite gone. “I don’t think I’m the best person to talk about that.”
Riley’s blue eyes met his brother’s. Old school rock music flowed from the sound system with a deep bass and steady beat. “You’re the perfect one. You’ve got a variety of experiences and—”
“Just drop it. Okay?” He let out a curse and shook his head. Why had he called his brother? Why had he thought it would make things better? Hell, it had done the opposite. “I just want to get you some damned cupcakes. How many do you need?”
Riley sighed. He looked like he wanted to say something more but didn’t. “There should be fifty guests. So whatever it takes to feed that many. We’re keeping it small. I figure I’ve lived enough of my life in the limelight. I want this to be special. Just me and Stace, or as close as we can get to that.”
Brody nodded. Tried not to let his envy for Riley’s happiness show. First Finn, now Riley, settled down and making families. For a long time, Brody had traveled along that path, too. He’d dated Melissa for a couple years, and he’d thought they’d get married. Then just before he took over Doc Watkin’s practice, he’d spent two weeks working for free in a clinic in Alabama, tending to people who fell into the gap between insurance and state aid. He’d been in the middle of stitching up a kid with a gaping leg wound when Melissa had called to tell him she was done, and moving on.
“Thanks,” Brody said, getting to his feet and tossing some money onto the table. He turned away, shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll let the baker know about the cupcakes.”
“Brod?”
Brody turned back. “Yeah?”
“How are you? Really?”
Brody thought of the physicals and sore throats and aches and pains waiting for him back in his office. The patients expecting him to fix them, make them better. For a month, in Afghanistan, he’d thought he was doing just that, making a difference, until—
Until he’d watched the light die in Andrew Spencer’s eyes.
“I thought I was fine,” Brody said. “But I was wrong.”
CHAPTER THREE
KATE stared at the pile of orders on her desk, the paperwork waiting to be done, but found her mind wandering to the handsome customer who had come in a couple days ago. The doctor with the Red Sox basket, who had been both friendly and…troubled. Yes, that was the word for it. She’d