did Trevor do?” Grammy demanded, much like Griffin had earlier. Good thing Maggie wasn’t a gambler because she clearly had no poker face.
“Nothing.” She lied outright this time. She’d decided at the church that she’d rather be the bad guy in this scenario than the poor, duped and undesired fool. Trevor had agreed. He would have agreed to anything Maggie had asked. “I’m sorry, Grammy. I’ll take back the gifts and write apology notes to each of the guests. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
Vivian held up a weathered hand, the manicured tips of her fingers trembling. “This cannot be undone, Mary Margaret.” She turned to Maggie’s father. “Take me home, Jim.”
He glanced between his mother and older daughter. “Maybe Maggie doesn’t want to be alone right—”
“She made her choice,” Vivian said through clenched teeth. She waved a hand at both Morgan and Ben. “Let’s go.”
Morgan stood and placed a hand on her dad’s sleeve. “I can stay with—”
“We’re all going,” Vivian insisted, walking toward the front door without a backward glance.
“It’s fine,” Maggie whispered when Morgan’s delicate brows drew together. “I’ll text you later, Mo.”
Her father took a step toward her, but Maggie shook her head. “It’s okay. Go. I’m fine.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but she forced a smile and motioned for him to follow Grammy. Right now she needed time alone.
“I love you,” her dad whispered, then walked out behind Grammy and Morgan. Ben turned back to her with his hand on the doorknob.
“I wouldn’t have let Mrs. Stone shank you,” he said gravely.
Maggie managed a watery smile. “Thanks, buddy.”
He nodded, shutting the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked, Maggie’s knees buckled. She collapsed to the hardwood floor with a sob, her life in pieces around her.
Griffin pushed open the church doors and strode through, ignoring the gasps and stares of the small crowd still gathered near the front of the sanctuary.
His younger brother stood in the center aisle between the pews, talking to a woman Griffin didn’t recognize, although she seemed vaguely familiar.
Growing up it felt like Griffin had known everyone in the close-knit community, and he’d chafed at both the expectations and scrutiny of being part of one of Stonecreek’s founding families. How could he expect anonymity when the town bore his family’s damn name?
He hadn’t asked for any of it. Small-town life had been stifling enough to a rambunctious kid without the added pressure of trying to live up to what his parents wanted from him. It had been presumed he’d be groomed to take over the helm of the family vineyard. Everyone in town—except his father—had seen his future like it had already come to pass.
Griffin knew Dave Stone would never have allowed him to take over the business. Griffin hadn’t been able to please his demanding father, and by the time he’d hit his troubled teen years, he’d stopped trying. Let Trevor be lauded as the family’s favored child. Griffin had always been more suited to the role of black sheep.
He watched as Trevor smiled and inclined his head as the older woman patted his shoulder, playing the part of the brokenhearted groom to a T. If he hadn’t been set on becoming the family scion, Trevor could have had a career in Hollywood. This little performance showed he was a consummate actor, although Griffin didn’t believe a moment of it.
People turned as he stalked up the aisle, but his full attention was on Trevor. He hadn’t seen his brother since their father’s funeral four years ago. Trevor was a couple of inches shorter than Griffin, his hair a shade lighter, making him look even more the golden son.
“Griffin.” Trevor’s deep voice boomed through the nearly empty sanctuary. He opened his arms, preparing to greet the prodigal brother with a hug. As if that would ever happen. “Good to see you, man. Sorry you came all this way for—”
Griffin slammed his fist into Trevor’s face without a second thought, the sharp pain in his knuckles a welcome outlet for his frustration.
Trevor muttered a curse as he stumbled back a few steps, covering his left eye with one hand. “What the hell was that for?”
“You tell me.” Griffin shook out his hand, then turned to meet the shocked gazes of the people still standing in the back of the church. “If you folks will excuse us, my brother and I need to speak in private.”
“Maggie left him,” said the older woman, whom Griffin finally recognized as his high school health teacher. “She walked out just as the ceremony was starting. It wasn’t his fault. Trevor’s the victim here. His poor face.”
“Victim,” Griffin repeated. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know anything,” Trevor said, the skin around his eye already turning a satisfying shade of purple.
“Really?” Griffin crossed his arms and arched a brow, letting Trevor know without words that he wasn’t fooled by the jilted-groom act. “Do you want to have this conversation here or in private? Think long and hard about your answer, Trev.”
Griffin was bluffing. Maggie had told him nothing, but he couldn’t shake his suspicion that she’d had more of a reason for playing the runaway bride than she’d let on. Walking away wasn’t in her character, and he didn’t buy his self-important brother as the jilted groom for one minute.
Trevor stared at him for a moment, his eyes unreadable. Then a muscle ticked in his jaw, and Griffin wanted to punch him again. He recognized Trevor’s tell from when they were kids, and Griffin knew without a doubt his brother was guilty of something.
“I’m not going to bore these nice people with our family drama,” Trevor said, his tone smooth like Harvest Vineyards’ flagship pinot.
“It’s not boring,” the health teacher—Mrs. Davis if Trevor remembered correctly—said enthusiastically.
Trevor flashed the most charming smile he could with his swollen eye. “You’re a sweetheart, Mrs. D, and I’d appreciate a few of your famous oatmeal scotchies the next time you bake a batch. Right now, I’m going to take a minute with my brother.” He glanced around the church, as pious as a choirboy. “This isn’t the place for violence.”
Immediately, Griffin regretted letting his temper get the best of him. Or at least he regretted hitting Trevor in a church. His mother would have a fit when she heard about it, and he’d already caused Jana Stone enough trouble to last a lifetime.
“I’ll talk to you all soon,” Trevor called to the rest of the onlookers. “Thanks for the support today.”
Griffin looked over his shoulder as he followed Trevor toward the vestry. The few people who’d witnessed his outburst were whispering among themselves and met his gaze with a round of angry glares. Only an hour back in Stonecreek and he was bristling
