Her Fiancé Sent His Twin, She Chose the Brother She Loved novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Option C

In the hospital waiting room Domenic arrives with a three-option plan to undo the night, Victor makes her a vending-machine tea, and at 3 a.m. Sal asks to see a wedding before his surgery and tells Victor to ask her.

The cardiac waiting room at 11:20 p.m. has two vending machines, one broken chair and a television showing a cooking contest with the sound off.

I sat in the unbroken chair in my green party dress, holding a card that said Option C: do not mention Dean's golf.

Victor sat across from me in the borrowed suit.

He had finally unglued his hair, and it hung loose to his collar, which made him look like himself again.

"They said the surgery is at seven," he said. "Bypass. Three vessels."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"The surgeon said he's very strong and very stubborn." Victor looked at his hands. "That's also the review of our marinara."

I almost laughed.

He didn't look at me when he said it, and I knew why.

Joking was easier than the other thing.

At 11:40 the elevator opened and Domenic walked out in a tuxedo with the tie undone.

He had a pen in his pocket that said The Marlowe, and he was already talking.

"Okay," he said. "I've seen the video. It's down. I called the cousin, the cousin is a reasonable person, and the cousin deleted it."

"Hello, Domenic," I said.

"Hi. How's Dad?"

"Asleep," Victor said. "They sedated him around ten."

"Good. Good." Domenic sat down beside me and pulled a napkin from his pocket. "I've been thinking in the cab. I made a list."

He unfolded the napkin and showed me.

It said, in blue ink: Option A: we say the toast was a bit.

"That's my format," I said.

"It's a good format."

"You've never once used it."

"Option B," Domenic read, "we say you had a bad night. Option C, you take a week, and I'll be patient. Which I will be."

"That's three ways to say it never happened."

"Nad, it was a misunderstanding." He lowered his voice. "Vic is Vic. He did it for me. It's not like I sent a stranger."

Victor made a small sound through his nose.

"I'd like it noted that the suit fit," he said.

"Thank you," Domenic said.

"It was not a compliment to you."

"I'm not marrying a misunderstanding," I said. "You sent your brother to be loved in your place."

"You love me."

"I know what I love," I said.

I didn't look at Victor when I said it, and I felt him not look at me.

Domenic stood up and stretched his neck.

"Fine. We'll talk Friday. There's a place you like, with the candles. I'll book it."

"I don't like candles."

"The Italian place."

"They have no candles. They have a fish tank."

"That's the place," Domenic said, and I understood that I could spend three more years teaching him one restaurant.

Victor got up without a word and went to the vending machines.

I watched him feed it quarters and come back with a paper cup of hot water, a tea bag in a paper sleeve, and one lemon packet from the cafeteria cart.

He set the cup on my knee.

Then he checked the wall clock and sat down and did not speak for three minutes.

When the three minutes were up, he pulled out the tea bag and squeezed the lemon packet onto the lid of the paper cup instead of into the cup.

The tea was weak and tasted of paper.

It was the best thing I'd had all night.

"Thank you," I said.

"It's not oolong," Victor said.

"It's not even good."

"No." He finally looked up, with the pause before his eyes. "But it's three minutes."

At midnight Dean Hollinger came in with a cardboard tray of coffees.

He was our commercial chief, tall and tanned, and he had come straight from the party with his jacket still on.

"I didn't know what anyone drinks," he said. "So I got the standard. Nadia, I'm so sorry. You must be exhausted."

"Thank you, Dean."

He handed me the first cup.

Then he walked to the desk and asked the nurse who was on the visitors list.

She told him.

He typed her answer into his phone with his thumb and came back looking sorry and kind.

"Whatever Sal needs," he said. "The company will manage. Everyone's behind the family."

Domenic took the coffee and thanked him.

At two, Domenic's phone buzzed, and he checked the screen and said, "Gallatin," and stood up straight.

"You're going to take that now?" I said.

"It's a callback. The whole night rides on it. Two minutes."

He stepped into the corridor, and I could see his back through the glass door, nodding at the wall.

At ten past three a nurse in pink scrubs leaned into the room.

"Mr. Aston is awake," she said. "He's asked for two people. Ms. Bell and Victor."

Victor and I stood up together.

"Not Domenic?" I said.

"He asked for you two. By name." She looked at the corridor. "He was very clear."

We went in.

The room was dim, with a monitor drawing green hills, and Sal Aston lay flat in the bed with a tube taped under his nose.

He was a broad, silver-haired man, and he looked smaller than I had ever seen him.

His eyes were sharp, though.

"There she is," Sal said. "The one who finished the toast."

"I didn't finish it, Sal."

"You finished the part that mattered." He turned his head. "And there's my good son."

"Dad," Victor said.

"You wore my cufflinks."

"I didn't know they were yours."

"They were my father's, and you wore them well." Sal breathed for a moment. "I know which of you is which, Victor. I've known since you were four."

Victor said nothing.

"Where's the other one?"

"On a call," I said.

"Of course he is." Sal looked at the ceiling. "Listen to me. In four hours they will open my chest. I have one request, and I'd like both of you to take it seriously."

"Anything," I said.

"I'd like to see a wedding."

I felt Victor go still beside me.

"Dad, there isn't a wedding," Victor said. "Nadia ended it. You were there."

"I was on the floor, but I heard it." Sal moved one finger on the blanket. "I want to see someone in my family say those words to a woman who means them. Before they put me under."

"Domenic is outside," I said.

"Not him." The finger came up. "I won't ask him. He'd have to look at his phone first."

The monitor ticked.

Sal turned to his son.

"Ask her, Vic," he said.

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