But, somehow, none of that stood up to the scrutiny of an intimate family weekend as Reese’s girlfriend.
“We’re so happy you’re here,” Margie said, enveloping her in another encompassing hug once they’d set their bags down.
“We are, too,” Reese beamed as she casually interlaced her fingers through Sydney’s, looking around the open downstairs area. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Stan, Tripp, and Grant headed to the club early this morning, after your dad and brother arrived from Boston, to play a quick round of golf. I believe your mother is meeting us directly there, and Brynn is…” Margie looked around before she called out, “Brynn, hon? Reese and Sydney are here.”
Within seconds, Sydney could hear the padding of feet on the hardwood stairs, and then Brynn came into view.
“Morning,” Brynn said exuberantly as she hit the ground floor, court-ready in a tennis skirt and a polo shirt.
To Reese’s credit, she’d been telling the truth on the drive here. Brynn did seem genuinely excited to spend time with them. Weirdly, so, if she was honest, but Sydney had already made the decision to roll with whatever happened in the next twenty-four hours.
She got the sense that maybe Brynn was a little naive, given her doting parents, and it made something protective swell inside of Sydney. Pushing it down, she smiled brightly, hoping that Brynn knew what she was getting into by marrying Grant. “Morning, Brynn.”
Never in a million years would she have thought she’d be hoping that the person Grant had cheated on her with was a party to the infidelity, but here she was, wishing it were true just so she didn’t have to wonder if sweet, friendly Brynn was also a victim in all of this.
This weekend is supposed to be fun, Sydney reminded herself.
Margie ushered them over to the kitchen island, thankfully providing cover in the form of chitchat to help Sydney extricate herself from her thoughts. “Coffee? Tea? How was the drive? It’s such a pretty dayalready.”
Since they’d arrived, Margie hadn’t stopped moving, seemingly boundless energy contained in her short frame.
“Will you be playing today?” Sydney asked, noticing that Margie was wearing a pair of tapered white jeans, a dark, billowy button-down, and a pair of sandals.
“Hah! I’m more of a ‘have a glass of wine on the patio’ kind of gal, if you know what I mean,” she said, winking in a way that only middle-aged women seemed to be able to pull off. “I love to get out in nature, but anything that involves coordination is dangerous for me—and everyone in the general vicinity.”
Brynn nodded in agreement, maybe more than a little firsthand experience written across her face. “Mom once fractured Dad’s hand when she accidentally hit him with a tennis racket.”
Sydney’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, though it wasn’t the strangest tennis injury she’d ever heard of.
“They weren’t playing doubles,” Brynn added.
“I ran to the net to return a shot. Stan had also moved forward on his side, and well,” Margie explained, “I accidentally smashed down on him when I misjudged how far out I needed to put my racket.”
Sydney tried to envision the mechanics of how something like that would play out.
Brynn focused on the look on Sydney’s face. “I know, it seems improbable, but it’s true. My mother,” Brynn said, wrapping her arm around Margie, “defies convention.”
The affection between Brynn and her mom was palpable as Margie managed a half-hearted embarrassed look and leaned into Brynn’s embrace.
Feeling Reese stiffen next to her, Sydney disentangled their hands so that she could slip her arm around Reese’s back.
“Stan took it in stride, as usual. I swear I could leave that man tied to a pole, naked in the desert, and he’d thank me for giving him the chance to get a little sun,” Margie said, with what was clearly love in her eyes.
Sydney found that she genuinely liked the Fitzpatricks. Theirwarmth. Their hospitality. It was refreshing, and as she continued to feel Reese’s uncomfortable posture beside her, she realized it was clearly a juxtaposition to the Devereux family, no matter how you sliced, diced, or minced it.
“Sounds like he’s a keeper,” Sydney joked, happy to carry the conversation, though, strangely, it only felt like she could take a solid breath when she felt Reese relax into her.
“When do we need to head to the club?” Reese asked, shifting her focus down to the weekend bags they’d deposited on the ground. “Should we get ready?”
Margie checked her watch. “Sure. I’ll show you two to your room so you can get changed.”
And at those words, Sydney’s stomach fluttered with anticipation.
Fun or not, this weekend was going to be… something.
Ten
