Marriage With Benefits(47)

Lucas rose on unsteady legs. “What? No way. Grandpa’s healthier than you and me put together. He beat me at golf a month ago.”

Protesting. Like it would change facts. His grandfather was a vibrant man. Seventy-five years old, sure, but he kept his finger on the pulse of Texas real estate and still acted as a full partner in the firm.

When Lucas had graduated from college, Grandpa had handed him an envelope with the papers granting Lucas a quarter ownership in Wheeler Family Partners. A careworn copy lined the inner pocket of his workbag and always would.

“I’ll drive.” Matthew turned and stalked away without waiting for Lucas.

Lucas threw his laptop in his bag and shouldered it, then texted Helena to reschedule his appointments for the day as he walked out. Once seated in Matthew’s SUV, he texted Cia. His wife would be expected at the hospital.

The Cityplace building loomed on the right as Matthew drove north out of downtown. They didn’t talk. They never talked anymore except about work or baseball. But nothing of substance, by Matthew’s choice.

They’d been indivisible before Amber. She’d come along, and Matthew had happily become half of a couple. Lucas observed from a distance with respect and maybe a small amount of envy. Of course his relationship with Matthew had shifted, as it should, but then Amber died and his brother disappeared entirely.

Lucas sat with his family in the waiting room, tapped out a few emails on his phone and exchanged strained small talk with Mama. His dad paced and barked at hospital personnel until a dour doctor appeared with the bad news.

Lucas watched his dad embrace Mama, and she sobbed on his shirt. In that moment, they were not his parents, but two people who turned to each other, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.

Apart from everyone, Matthew haunted the window, stoic and unyielding as always, refusing to engage or share his misery with anyone. Not even Lucas.

The scene unfolded in surreal, grinding slow motion. He couldn’t process the idea of his grandfather, the Wheeler patriarch, being gone.

Cia, her long, shiny hair flying, barreled into the waiting room and straight into Lucas. He flung his arms around her small body in a fierce clinch.

The premise that she’d come solely for the sake of appearances vanished. She was here. His wife was in his arms, right where she should be. The world settled. He clutched her tight, and coconut and lime wafted into his senses, breaking open the weight on his chest.

Now it was real. Now it was final. Grandpa was gone, and he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

“I’m glad you came,” Lucas said, and his voice hitched. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, so sorry. He was a great man,” she murmured into his shirt, warm hands sliding along his back, and they stood there for forever while he fought for control over the devastating grief.

When he tilted his head to rest a cheek on top of Cia’s hair, he caught Matthew watching them, arms crossed, with an odd expression on his face. Missing his own wife most likely.

Finally, Lucas let Cia slip from his embrace. She gripped his hand and followed silently as he spoke to his dad, then she drove him to his parents’ house with careful attention to the speed limit.

Mama talked about funeral arrangements with his father and grandmother, and through it all Cia never left his side, offering quiet support and an occasional comforting squeeze. Surely she had other commitments, other things she’d rather be doing than hanging out in a place where everyone spoke in hushed tones about death.

Her keys remained in her purse, untouched, and she didn’t leave.

It meant a lot that she cared enough to stay. It said a lot, too—they’d become friends as well as lovers. He hadn’t expected that. He’d never had that.

For the first time, he considered what might happen after the divorce. Would they still have contact? Could they maintain some kind of relationship, maybe a friends-with-benefits deal?

He pondered the sudden idea until Matthew motioned him outside. Cia buzzed around the kitchen fixing Mama a drink, so he followed his brother out to the screened-in porch.

Matthew retrieved a longneck from a small refrigerator tucked into the corner, popped the top with the tail of his button-down in a practiced twist and flopped into a wicker chair, swigging heartily from the bottle.

Lucas started to comment about the hour, but a beer with his brother on the afternoon of his grandfather’s death didn’t sound half-bad. Might cure his dry throat.

Bottle in hand, Lucas took the opposite chair and swung one leg over the arm. “Long day.”

Matthew swallowed. “Long life. Gets longer every day.”

“That’s depressing.” His life got better every day, and considering the disaster it had been, that was saying something. Lucas hesitated but plunged ahead. “Do you want to talk about it?”