The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(111)

Matt looks at it carefully. “May 17, Lucy and Jimmy.” He looks over at me. “Can we watch it? I’d love to see what he was like.”

My mouth drops open. “Um…”

“You know, if we’re going to be, ah, closer, it’d be good to…know him a little.”

My breath is a little shaky. “Sure.” I stand up, walk over to the DVD player and put the disk in. Matt sits on the couch and pats the seat next to him. A little hesitantly, I sit next to him. He slings his arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek.

“Thank you for letting me see this,” he murmurs.

I look up at his nice face, and his eyes are kind and smiling. “You seem like a good guy, Matt DeSalvo,” I say, resisting the urge to wipe my cheek.

“I am,” he answers with a wink.

The DVD starts. And there I am, awfully young. Twenty-four years old, an age burned into my soul as the last year I was the old me. Corinne, in college at the time, flutters around me, pulling my hair back and twisting it, chattering about how nervous she was.

I look so happy. I was so happy, after all. There’s Mom, ageless and beautiful, her apricot-colored, floor-length dress sleek and lovely.

“She’s still so gorgeous,” Matt says.

“You’re right,” I murmur.

On screen, I get into the car, waving at the camera guy, and the scene fades to black. And then there’s Jimmy, standing at the altar with Ethan, both laughing. Ethan…God. He looks like a teenager, skinny and cute as anything. He doesn’t look like a man about to watch the woman he loves marry someone else. My shoulders relax a little.

And I see something else…Matt and Jimmy only have a superficial resemblance. Jimmy had a spark, a life force that just flowed out from his big heart. Matt doesn’t have that. I’m sure he has other qualities, but he’s…well, he’s no Jimmy.

“Let’s fast-forward,” I suggest and hit the appropriate button. “Wedding ceremonies are all the same, after all.” The DVD skips ahead jerkily, and I hit Stop when I see the tent.

“Ah, here we go. My cousin Stevie. Very entertaining, this.”

During the cocktail hour, Stevie had done a pretty fair impression of John Travolta gyrating to “You Should Be Dancing” from Saturday Night Fever. Right up until he accidentally smacked a waiter carrying a tray of champagne.

“Oops,” Matt laughs. He starts playing with my hair, his eyes on the screen.

There are Anne and Laura, the classiest relatives, kissing me, patting Jimmy’s cheek. Iris, Rose and Mom…Gianni and Marie, my father-in-law looking proud and handsome, more hair and less fat than he now has. Marie dieted for months to get into the dress she bought, a pale green chiffon nightmare.

Matt’s fingers are now caressing my neck. It feels…okay. Nice, I guess. I try not to tense. On screen, oh. Here we are, one of my favorite parts. Ethan’s speech.

“He’s a great-looking guy,” Matt says.

“Ethan?” I say, not taking my eyes off the TV.

“I meant Jimmy.”

I look up at Matt. “Right. Yes, he was.” I turn my attention back to the screen. The DJ taps the mike and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention, the brother of the groom, Ethan Mirabelli, would like to say a few words.”

Something flips in my stomach, and I lean forward a little.

“You okay?” Matt asks.

“Oh, sure.”

On screen, Ethan takes the mic. “I’m a little nervous,” he says sheepishly. “I want to do a really good job here, because Jimmy says if I do, I can be best man at his next wedding, too.” The camera pans to the laughing crowd, me smacking Jimmy on the shoulder, Jimmy grinning. “Seriously, I’ve always looked up to my big brother—usually because he had me pinned…”

We’d loved it. Ethan was perfect that day, full of mirth and mischief. “Jimmy, you’re a lucky, lucky man…you leave here with a wife who’s gorgeous and funny, someone who radiates warmth and love wherever she goes. And Lucy, you leave here today with…well…at least you can keep the pretty dress.”

“Funny,” Matt murmurs. I barely hear him.

I’ve watched this video hundreds of times. And always in the past, I’d stared at Jimmy’s beautiful face, the love he had for me so evident on that happy, happy day.

But today—for the first time—I’m watching Ethan, not Jimmy. Staring at Ethan. Twenty-two years old when we got married. A consummate best man, charming, funny, kind. He describes how Jimmy used to hook a fish, then hand the pole to Ethan and let him reel in the catch. How Jimmy would make him hamburgers when their parents went out, because Marie viewed hamburgers as pig food. And then he tells how Jimmy and I met.

“I was there the first time these two laid eyes on each other,” he says, turning to Jimmy and me. You can’t see our faces, as the camera stays on Ethan, but we were snuggled together, loving every word. “One look, and that was that,” Ethan says gently. “They fell in love, they’ve stayed in love, and today they promised to love each other for the rest of their lives.”

An audible sigh rises from the wedding guests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please stand and raise your glasses. Enduring love, healthy children, long, happy life together. To Lucy and Jimmy.”