Chapter 1

There were certain moments in life that you never forgot. One of those moments was when your mother casually announced that she was getting remarried barely more than three years after your father had passed.

My silverware clattered to the plate after she made the announcement. She looked around the table, beaming at my brothers and me like we were supposed to be happy for her. While happy wasn't an emotion I was overly familiar with, I knew I sure as hell wasn't feeling it right then.

"You're what?" I asked, incredulity ringing clear as a bell from my tone. "Why?"

My mother gave me a fond smile, the crow's feet around her eyes deep but not that bad yet. "Richard and I love each other, honey. Neither of us are getting any younger and why wait, right?"

Why wait, indeed. Perhaps because you were married to my father for thirty years and you're still pretty young, but hey, what do I know?

My three younger brothers exchanged a look, their expressions morphing from shocked, to unconvinced, to joyful in sixty seconds or less. Finn was on his feet first, pushing his chair back and striding around the table to throw his arms around the happy couple.

"Congratulations, you guys! This is awesome news, and yeah, why wait?" He glanced at our youngest brother, who was hot on his heels as he remained bent over with his arms around their shoulders. "Get a picture of this, would you, Corbin? We need this moment captured for posterity."

I frowned, but Corbin dutifully slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped the requested picture before joining them. Embracing them in a group hug, he raised his phone once more, grinning into the camera as he took a quick selfie of them all together.

"Say cheese, people. Look alive! Come on, this is going on my socials as a night to remember."

Asher, brother number three, laughed as he got up to join them. "What is it with you two? The world would keep turning if social media disappears tomorrow. You should try to live in the moment."

"As if you'd know," Mom teased, lifting her arm a little higher to make room for him in the hug. "You would all perish without those websites and you know it. So let's just accept that we're living in the age of ‘pics or it didn't happen' and hope you'll never have to find out what will happen if it all disappears overnight."

"Look at Mom, knowing more about the real world than you, Ash," Finn joked as he finally straightened out of the hug. "Just make your peace with it, man. Listen to your mother and accept the age we're living in."

I rolled my eyes, casting a glance at our oldest brother in the process. Like me, Zachary wasn't exactly leaping for joy. I loved our mother and I knew he did too, but this was a damn bitter pill to swallow.

Trying to keep up appearances for her sake, I reached for my wine glass and lifted it for a toast. "To Mom and Richard. May you be happy."

"Hear, hear!" Corbin agreed wholeheartedly, leaning over to grab his glass from across the expansive table before lifting it to mine.

One by one, the others followed. Mom and her fiancé shared a goofy, so-in-love smile as the rest of us clinked their glasses. Even Zachary finally joined in, sighing heavily as he allowed his glass to be tapped in passing before draining what had remained of his wine.

"Congratulations, Mother. Richard." He nodded at each of them, not quite as enthusiastic as our brothers with his well wishes, but at least he'd said something.

Finn, Corbin, and Asher finally settled back into their seats. As if Mom's staff had been waiting for this exact moment, the door between the dining room and the kitchen swung open, and they filed in with a silver domed plate on each hand. They set it down neatly in front of us before they disappeared as quietly and efficiently as they'd entered.

Once they were gone, Richard cleared his throat, his hunter green eyes sweeping around the table until he'd looked at us all at least once. "I want you boys to know that I'm going to take good care of your mother. She's a wonderful woman and I love her deeply. Thank you for your support in this."

I exhaled through my nostrils before I drew in a long, slow breath, doing my best to keep it together when internally, I was screaming. Richard wasn't a bad guy. I knew he meant it when he said he'd take care of her, but my father hadn't even been gone for half a decade and she'd been married to him for three.

Have some respect, for God's sake.

Evidently, I wasn't the only one thinking along those lines. A few times during the course of dinner, I caught Zachary's jaw tightening and his neck bulging, but neither of us would bring it up now. We'd been raised better than to create a scene at the dinner table.

"Soooo," Finn said once he'd cut into his filet mignon. "Give us details. How did it happen? When did he ask? Oh, we should probably get a picture of the ring. My followers are definitely going to want to see that."

Mom giggled—giggled—as she lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers, glancing at Richard with yet another of those extremely goofy smiles. Diana St. Clair hadn't been goofy a day in her life with my father, but looking at her now, it seemed to come so naturally that, for a moment, I had to question how well I even knew her.

She and I were close, or so I'd always thought, but right then, I couldn't help but wonder what else she was keeping from us. I hadn't even known this relationship of theirs was serious—let alone serious enough to even be considering marriage.

As Finn and Corbin took a few more pictures for their precious followers, Zachary and I exchanged another glance, but neither of us said a word. Mom was gushing about the proposal as she posed with her left hand on Richard's chest, his shoulder, and his cheek, following my brothers' instructions about what poses would look best for the media.

"We were getting ready for bed on Saturday," she was saying. "Teeth brushed and faces washed, we were about turn in when Richie suddenly went down on one knee."

"Getting down on it was fine, but getting back up? That was a struggle," he interjected, laughing, clearly trying to entertain us with the story. "I told her, I said, Diana, we're too old to play games?—"

"Will you just marry me already?" Mom finished for him, making her voice several octaves deeper to mimic his. She laughed, her hand still on his shoulder and her head leaning down on it now too. "It was so spur of the moment. So romantic."

"It wasn't that spur of the moment," he objected lightly. "I had the ring already, gentlemen. Don't worry. I would never ask a woman like your mother for her hand in marriage without one."

Oh, so you'd have asked a different woman without one? What the hell?

Asher, Finn, and Corbin chuckled, but neither Zachary or I managed much more than a polite smile. We weren't that much older than them, all of us born two, max three, years apart. Zachary was thirty-five, I was thirty-three, Finn thirty, Ash twenty-eight, and Corbin twenty-six, but right now, it felt like there were decades between us.

We'd all been adults when Dad had passed, all vowing to be there for our mother. I wondered if perhaps their joy was brought on by relief that she would have a companion again from now on. Over dinner, they kept talking about the details, chattering about unimportant things, like whether they were going on a honeymoon, until I finally cut to the chase. "I'll get the venue ready. Just give me a date and I'll block it out on the calendar."

"That won't be necessary, darling," she said, her jovial mood dissipating for a moment as she met my gaze. "We've chosen Serenity Halverson's venue for the wedding."

I blinked. Hard. Feeling like I'd received a blow to the stomach, I scoffed and got up. "I've heard the name but didn't realize she had a wedding business. I need a refill."

Grabbing my glass, I spun away from the table, muttering under my breath once I was out of earshot. "Unbelievable. Un—fucking—believable."

Not only was she getting married, but she couldn't even pay my father the respect he deserved by doing it at our family's wedding venue. The St. Clair Equestrian Estate was one of the most sought-after venues in the entire Los Angeles County, but apparently, it wasn't good enough for Richard.

A deep scowl settled on my face as I reached the bar. I'd just picked up a bottle of wine when Zachary spoke up behind me. "Storming away from dinner isn't really your style."

"It's not yours either," I snapped before drawing in a breath and doing my utmost to collect myself. I glanced at him when he joined me at the counter, setting his own empty glass down next to mine. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Too soon for her to be getting married?" he guessed when I trailed off. His dark eyes hooked on mine as he nodded. "I completely agree."

"And to not even use our venue? What's up with that? Isn't it the least she could've done?"

"You'd think so, but it seems she'd disagree." He sighed, handing over the corkscrew and inclining his head at the bottle in my hand. "I need more alcohol, so either you open it or I will."

I took it from him. My actions were rather more violent than usual as I sliced through the protective foil covering the cork and jammed the screw right into it. "What does Serenity Halverson's venue have that ours doesn't?"

We specifically catered to the mega rich, celebrities and high society clientele. My mother fit that bill perfectly. Our place was beautiful and iconic, kind of like the Boathouse in New York. It was synonymous with style, class, and the upper crust. Not just anyone could get married there, and if you could, you did.

Moreover, what were people going to think if Diana St. Clair didn't get married at the St. Clair Estate? What would it say about our father's legacy?

"It's not even Serenity's venue, it's her husband's," I ground out as the cork slid free. "I mean, I like the guy. At least he's a professional, but?—"

"Actually," Zachary said thoughtfully. "I think I read somewhere that she got it in the divorce, which means it's hers now."

I groaned. "Right. I'd forgotten about that, but it makes it even worse. It's going to be amateur hour over there."

"Yeah, well, imagine how her ex, Ethan, feels," Zach said. "If memory serves, she got everything, including the venue and the wedding-planning company."

"But she's a socialite. A reality TV star. What does she know about planning weddings?"

He dragged a hand through his near-black hair as I filled up his glass. "I don't know, but I guess we're going to find out. I suppose with a name like hers, she's attended her fair share of weddings. I just don't know if she's planned one before."

I grimaced. "I doubt it. I didn't really watch her show. I might've caught an episode here and there, but didn't she only have to go live in a house in some other city for a couple months? If I recall, there wasn't much more to it than that. Just a bunch of twenty-somethings in a house, talking shit and driving each other crazy."

He shrugged. "They also had to get jobs. Perhaps she worked in the event-planning industry for a stretch."

I arched a doubtful eyebrow at him. "I'm willing to bet that the closest she's ever come to planning an event was watching her ex-husband do it."

And soon enough, I would have to meet with her. Knowing my mother, a meeting had already been set and it would be in a day or two from now. At most.

My eyes closed and I swirled the wine in my glass before I took a sip. I'd been operating the premiere wedding coordination company and venue in the city for twelve years, and I was about to start planning my mother's wedding with someone who'd likely never done it before.

It was a disaster, and one I definitely didn't have the time or the patience for. As I opened my eyes and looked at Zachary again, I saw my own frustration swimming around in his gaze. He might not be as actively involved in this shitshow as I would inevitably be, but one thing was for sure.

My brother and I both loathed every moment of this, yet for only the second time in our lives, there was nothing we could do to stop it from happening. I'd only ever felt this helpless once, and that had been when our father had passed.

A memory I certainly didn't need to be reliving now, and especially not with his widow, his loving wife, the one who was making me do it.