Page 13 of Consuming Logan

“True,” he nodded. “That’s why we hung in the back the room. Just in case I needed to be the next song and dance show after she stops shooting daggers at Dad and Tyson O’Connor.”

Logan jerked his head back. “Tyson’s here?”

“You invite him?” his brother asked.

It was interesting how the man had infiltrated their lives. He had forwarded his father a text about the endowment. Maybe, Robert Lee extended an invitation in gratitude for his generosity. It had been his father’s international connections that had secured Tyson Adventis’s investment in SCMC.

“No,” Logan shot back. But that didn’t explain why the billionaire kept showing up.

“Speaking of strangers at a wedding, who’s the woman watching mom?”

She was older than Maribelle, but her brown skin was flawless. Salt and pepper gray hair twisted in an elegant sweep gave of a defiant, yet regal vibe. Moments later she confirmed Logan’s assumptions when caught in a blatant assessment of her right to be in attendance, she lifted one hand, waved, and then offered a mock toast.

“You see this?”

Darwin didn’t speak, just nodded. Logan was about to ask his brother’s thoughts on the matter when the PA system screeched louder than a banshee. Everyone covered their ears.

“Sorry about that,” Sam Holbrook said, clearing his throat. “Folks, please start moving towards your seats. We’ll start in ten minutes.”

Rebecca Lynn, seeing her dad at the mic, stood a little taller. She had reason to be proud.

Logan looked over to see Rebecca Lynn smiling at her husband. “Daddy looks great, doesn’t he?”

Darwin squeezed his wife’s shoulder, and then pulled her back into the safety of his arms.

“Yeah, he does, B.”

“For the top cover you owe me a twelve pack of Titleist Pro-V1’s.”

Logan arched a brow. “If the alarm saved me. How does that earn you a set of balls?”

“Please, never say those words to me, together in the same sentence. To answer your question, I mentioned the interview, Monique’s final surgery, and the endowment no less than three times,” he said, mock punching Logan in the arm.

“Fair enough,” Logan said in an equally mocking tone. “I owe you.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Darwin had come to his rescue with their parents. Of the two, Logan personified his mother’s temper and his father’s stubbornness.

“You owe me plenty,” Darwin corrected. “The news coverage and all the calls from her country club cronies helped. But, an intruder alarm on one of the lower floors saved your neck from mom’s diamond-encrusted chopping block.”

Logan groaned. “Whatever.”

Since meeting Ava, his relationship with Maribelle had reached a breaking point. His father and Darwin had tried their best to run interference. But Maribelle refused to relinquish her unprovoked dislike of Ava. Logan came prepared to wage war on his bride-to-be’s behalf.

“Nice picture of you and Monique on the courier’s website, brother.”

Logan had received a text messages from a few board members lapping up the publicity of Kylie’s impromptu blog post. A smiling Monique looking at Logan with hero worship wide eyes had racked up the social media views.

“Thanks,” he shrugged.

Darwin’s brow lifted. “The ‘I birthed the best son’ bragging rights should keep you out of the frying pan for at least another ten minutes.”

His brother was half right. In a room where three hundred tuxedoed and floor-length gowned guests swarmed like hungry locusts from one power circle to the next, Maribelle found them in five minutes flat.

“You’re late.” His mother’s brisk tone as well as her white chiffon wrapped body blocking the doorway brought them to an abrupt halt. Dear heaven, Ava specifically asked that guests not wear white. Great… his mother had missed thebe on your best behaviormemo.

Logan frowned. “And, you’re sober.”

Bourbon had been the breakfast of champions for his mother. And, apparently, the perfect lunchtime snack, and full dinner menu. In college, Logan had his own struggles with alcohol. Finding his fiancée and best friend in bed, had driven him into a whiskey bottle. The more he drank, the sooner the images of Brooke and Dusty had floated away. That was long before Ava. More of his past she didn’t need to know.