“Wait a minute, what?”
“Pres Maxwell—he’s one of the associates at the firm. He and his wife are members here—they’re the ones who nominated Claire and me for membership—and last weekend we had lunch with them. I played a few rounds with Pres and the boys, and Claire spent some time with the other wives.” Chris’s lips tightened. “I don’t know what was said exactly, but Pres pulled me aside on Monday morning and said that Claire told the women some personal details about her past. And they weren’t respectable details, if you know what I mean.”
Dylan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He sometimes forgot what a prude his brother was.
“Okay, so she talked to the country club ladies about sex. Are you telling me that’s why you’re breaking it off?”
His brother’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I told you why I’m doing this, Dylan. That was just one example of how she’s not a good match for me.” Chris abruptly shot to his feet. “I can’t marry her. I can’t be with a woman who doesn’t respect me.”
“Who says she doesn’t?”
“There’s a lot more you don’t know,” Chris said darkly. “Unlike Claire, I’m not going to talk out of turn. Our personal shit and certain indiscretions aren’t anybody’s business but ours. Just trust me when I say that I need to end this.”
Dylan narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying she fucked around on you?”
“I’m not saying anything.” Now those green eyes were imploring him, shining with fear. “You’ve got to tell her the wedding is cancelled.”
“I’m not breaking up with your bride for you, damn it.”
“But you’re the best man,” Chris protested. “And you’re my brother.”
“As your best man, I’m in charge of holding on to the rings and standing next to you at the altar. As your brother, I’m responsible for supporting you and clapping politely when you kiss the bride. Neither of those roles requires me to call off your fucking wedding!”
“Please, Dyl. I can’t do it. I don’t want to hurt her.”
Dylan’s jaw fell open. “Dumping her five minutes before your wedding is going to hurt her. You realize that, right?”
“I know. But…goddammit! If that friend of hers was here, she could be the one to talk to Claire, but Dr. Dyke couldn’t be bothered to fly in, so—”
“Whoa,” Dylan interrupted, an edge to his voice. “Uncool, dude.”
Chris’s expression conveyed a flicker of remorse. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just so irritated that her so-called best friend skipped the wedding.”
Maybe she knew there’d never be a wedding.
Dylan bit back the snippy remark. “Well, Claire’s BFF isn’t here to do your dirty work, and I won’t do it either. You have to talk to her, bro. You have to clean up your own mess.”
The panic that erupted in Chris’s eyes would have been comical if it weren’t so infuriating. “Dylan—”
“I mean it. You can’t dump this on anyone else, no matter how painful and uncomfortable it’s going to be. You’re a thirty-two-year-old man, Chris. You can’t ask me to break up with Claire for you.”
After a long moment of silence, Chris’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know. You’re right.”
An enormous weight lifted off Dylan’s chest. Finally, his brother was seeing reason.
“Talk to her,” he said gently. “Tell her everything you’re feeling, man. Maybe you two can work through it and the wedding will go on as scheduled.”
“It won’t.” Chris drew a deep breath, then smoothed out the front of his black suit jacket. “The partners will understand, right?” he said, sounding desperate.
Disapproval stiffened Dylan’s muscles. Was Chris seriously concerned about how his law firm’s partners would react instead of worrying about how his jilted bride was going to feel? Wow. His brother had always been a tad self-absorbed and slightly pretentious, but at the moment, Dylan didn’t recognize the man in front of him.
“Forget about the partners,” he ordered. “Focus on your fiancée. Go find Claire. Now.”
With a quick nod, Chris turned around and left the room.
Battling his disbelief, Dylan took a moment to collect his composure. Shit. This was a complete clusterfuck. Should he find his mother and fill her in? Or should he wait until he knew for certain whether the wedding was off?
No, he ought to get his mom. If anything, she could at least be there to offer Claire some comfort after Chris dropped his bomb.
He was still stressed as hell as he marched out the door and down the pristine white-marble floor in the hallway. He’d just rounded the corner when he heard the click of high heels.
Speak of the devil—his mother was bounding toward him, her teal dress fluttering around her ankles with each quick step she took.