But to Olivia, I looked like something that didn’t belong.
She stopped me before I reached the guest tables. With a polished smile and cold eyes, she placed a hand on my chest.
“What are you doing here, Thomas?” she whispered.
“I’m looking for my seat,” I replied calmly. “I’m the groom’s father.”
She laughed softly.
“Oh sweetheart, we moved you. That suit is ancient, and honestly you smell like the stables. We have investors here tonight. We can’t have you sitting with them looking like hired help.”
Then she pointed across the lawn.
“Table forty-two is over there with the gardeners and the parking attendants. You’ll feel more comfortable with them.”
I glanced past her.
Daniel saw everything—his wife blocking his father at the entrance to his own celebration.
And he did what he had always done.
He looked away.
Instead of walking to the table near the portable toilets, I grabbed a beer from a waiter and left the party.
I headed to the only place on the ranch where I was still respected.
The stables.
Later that evening Daniel came looking for me.
He shuffled awkwardly, avoiding my eyes. He mumbled something about Olivia being stressed and the investors needing to feel comfortable.