Page 67 of The Wedding Driver
“I’m ready to move on with my life. With Tonya. We talked about getting married today.”
“No way. That’s fast.”
“We love each other.”
“I’ve known that for a long time,” Maxwell said. “But why are you so serious if that’s the case? This should be a time of light and joy.”
“Because I won’t lie to her.” Foster arched a brow.
Maxwell narrowed his stare. “What does that mean?”
“I can’t keep your secret. Not from her. Not from the rest of your family. It’s no way to start a new life. She’ll be here shortly. You can tell her and work through the rest of the family.”
Maxwell set the glass on the table a little harshly. The water sloshed over the sides and onto his hand. “What right do you have to dictate how I deal with my cancer? I trusted you, and you’re going to betray me like this? How dare you.”
“How dare me? You put me in an impossible position. Worse, you used my lack of a relationship with your granddaughter to get me to keep your secret from your entire family, and that’s not fair to me, you, or to them. They love you, and while I totally understand you don’t want to burden them, can you accept that they will feel completely and utterly betrayed by you when they find out you kept this from them? Not to mention how it will affect my relationship moving forward.”
“They are going to want me to fight. I don’t have any left in me. Besides, you heard the doctor; even with treatment, I don’t have much time left. I don’t want it to be with sad faces.”
“You’re not giving them enough credit.” Foster sipped his beer. “You and I both know what it’s like to have a child ripped from our world long before we’re ready. But we also know that no one is ever really ready to deal with loss. It always hurts, and it’s messy. But I know Tonya, and if she was sitting with you at that appointment today, holding your hand, she would have hugged you and accepted that your days are numbered, because no offense, old man, you’re not getting any younger anyway.”
Maxwell poked Foster in the arm. “That’s just wrong.” He laughed. “But I am eighty-something. I’ve had a good life. Knowing that you and Tonya have finally found each other makes me happy.” Maxwell swiped his cheeks. “How did you go from being broken up to having the marriage talk?”
Foster’s entire life flashed like a movie in fast-forward. Growing up, he’d been a little on the wild side. His parents were constantly having to take away his toys and later the keys to the car. But he had to grow up fast when Lisa came along. He hadn’t thought twice about it. He never once regretted his decision to marry Victoria. Not even when things got bad.
Truth be told, his dissatisfaction in his marriage had been survivable because of Lisa.
The loss of his precious child came crushing down on his chest, squeezing his heart with a death grip. His breathing became labored. It always felt as though he were going to die. It was a sensation he’d grown used to. It took time for it to pass; however, lately it disappeared in seconds.
Tonya.
Her love filled his soul like smooth whiskey. It didn’t replace his pain, but it soothed it in such a way that allowed him to step from the past into the present. It was as if his little girl was telling him it was time.
“This might sound strange, but it’s like for the last few months we’ve been dating. We were always together. Sometimes we’d watch movies. Or she’d help me with Victoria. We had dinner together. I knew if either one of us ever told the other how we felt, there was no going back, so I kept the genie in the bottle. I dug my heels in when Tonya let him out because I was scared of how much I loved her and what that meant.”
Maxwell sniffled. “When do you plan on marrying my grandbaby?”
“I don’t know. That’s really up to Tonya. I feel like at this point I’m along for the ride.”
“Good answer.” Maxwell took in a long, slow breath. “Except I need you do this old man a favor.”
Foster tilted his head. “Favors right now are in short supply until you come clean.”
“I will. I promise. But I want to see the two of you get married before I die.”
18
THREE WEEKS LATER…
“…You may kiss your bride.”
The words hung in the air as Foster pulled Tonya closer and pressed his mouth over her lips.
The few people in attendance clapped and cheered. Music from the Blue Moon restaurant tickled her ears and a few shouts from the patrons made their way down to the docks while her stomach filled with butterflies.
She was married.
To Foster.
