Extra Bonus #91: Last Minute Wedding Changes (Thatcher) (Patreon)

IMPORTANT: Please do not screenshot and post any part of this bonus scene to other sites or share with non-patrons. All of the Patreon content is exclusive to Patreon and for current patron's eyes only.  Thank you!! xoxo Krista & Becca

RESOURCES:  Check out this narrative timeline graphic to visually see when this bonus scene takes place.

CONSISTENCY: If you're looking to read the bonus scenes in chronological order,  Driving Out West  can be read before this bonus for more context.

MUSIC: We listened to “Power Hungry Animals” by The Apache Relay while writing this bonus.  

I’M ON THE HUNT for someone. I could shoot out a text, but instead, I search the wedding venue for him and stop as I run into each unfamiliar face.

“You are?” I question.

“I’m helping Sloane.” A college-aged girl has a bundle of pink tulle in her arms.

“Sloane who?”

“Um, I think her last name is Gordon? Or maybe it’s Grayson. Actually, it might be Gifford.”

The longer I stare her down, the more she shifts and gulps the air. I must be glaring, but I can’t fucking help it. I thought I’d have a sense of every soul coming through this castle, but as more and more people show up, I realize it’s gonna be out of my fucking control.

Triple Shield is running lead on the security of my wedding since Akara isn’t here and Omega are off-duty. I just have to trust in Price. Trust that he’s vetted whoever Sloane is. Trust that today is safe for Jane.

Last thing I need to be thinking about is security, but I also can’t fucking help it. Protecting her—it’s seeped into my bloodstream. And she’s not an average girl living a typical, cookie-cutter life. This isn’t a normal wedding, as much as we want to fool ourselves and think it is.

She’s been trending all week on social media. We couldn’t keep it secret from the press. They know it’s happening today. It’s happening here.

JANE COBALT IS GETTING MARRIED!

LEAKED PICS OF JANE COBALT’S WEDDING DRESS (Didn’t look at that one.)

PHOTOS OF JANE COBALT’S WEDDING VENUE!

JANE’S BROTHERS LEAVING NYC FOR HER WEDDING!!!

It’s been nonstop media coverage. And it always takes me a second to realize there isn’t a shitbag to be jealous of. I don’t need to beat myself up over losing out on the greatest love of my life.

I’m marrying her.

She’s about to be my wife.

She’s mine.

The firstborn Cobalt. An American princess. Jane Eleanor Cobalt. The one and only Jane Eleanor Cobalt. No one like her. Irreplaceable. Invaluable.

Mine.

Always, always…mine.

I feel my lips inching upward.

“Is…uh, is that okay?” the girl asks me, her body untensing. “That I’m here as Sloane’s friend who’s the third assistant to the wedding coordinator? I’m-I’m just helping.”

“That’s fine,” I nod her on, letting go of logistics. At least, the security kind of logistics. I still need to handle the kind of logistics that I discussed earlier with Jane—the wedding changes with groomsmen.

Find him.

As soon as I come upon the entrance, it’s a madhouse of cousins in the grand foyer. My cousins, all shouting over each other and carrying Tupperware inside for the buffet breakfast Jane and I planned for family.

It was last minute. The breakfast.

Once my big Italian-American family got word of the delayed ceremony and the impromptu breakfast, they rallied together to cook quiches and anise toast. As though my wedding isn’t being hosted by billionaires. 

I love them for it. I love that Jane’s parents didn’t tell them not to worry about cooking. I love that when I look ahead, I might not see Banks but I still see the loving remnants of our childhood.

 Stopping like a shadow near the wood-paneled wall, I stay unseen somehow. My chest rises at the familiarity ahead of me. The smell of zucchini and egg. The jumbled voices fighting to be heard.

“Where’s this goin’? Hey, Vito! WHERE’S THIS TOAST GOIN’?”

“Jesus, don’t shout in my fuckin’ ear!”

“Why do you think I gotta fuckin’ shout? Youse are over there talking like you got an affiction.”

“Affiction? You stunad, that’s not a fuckin’ word. It’s affection.”

“It’s not affection. It’s affiction.”

Those are my twenty-two and twenty-three-year-old cousins Myles and Paulie. Sons of my mom’s youngest brother. Most are already wearing black suits.

“How should I know where it’s supposed to go?!” Vito shouts, double-fisting two gallons of orange juice. He’s been in conversation with another three cousins and breaks away from them.

“‘Cause you act like you know everything!” Myles rebuts.

“Right in my fuckin’ ear again.” Paulie snaps a glare at him.

I almost laugh. Banks would be if he were here. He’d bite down on a toothpick and we’d be joking about our knuckleheaded cousins together. Then we’d acknowledge that we’re not much better.

Someone is carrying dishware. I can’t see the face behind a mountain of plates as they yell, “Fuckin’ hell, go find Banks!” Sounds like Chandler, my Uncle Joe’s son.

“Didn’t youse hear?” Vito calls back. “Banks isn’t coming.”

“Still can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Paulie says. “Have you ever seen Thatcher without Banks and Banks without Thatcher?”

“Uh, yeah,” Chandler deadpans. “They’re not conjoined.” I nearly smile. “Take some of these, Paulie, would ya?” Paulie grabs half the tower of plates, freeing Chandler’s hard-worn, disgruntled face. He looks a little like his father, but he’s nowhere near as tall as Uncle Joe.

He’s the one who sees me. His eyes don’t brighten. His lips don’t rise. Chandler lost his childhood friend when he was fifteen.

Then he lost his closest Navy buddy when he was on deployment at twenty-one. He noticeably carries that loss around. Hasn’t thrown it off in many years. If any of my cousins know death like I do, it’d be him.

And that childhood friend of his—it was my older brother.

Skylar didn’t have a lot of friends that I remember, but he’d been close to our cousin Chandler. They were the same age. And there was a moment where I thought maybe it’d be okay that Sky was gone—that maybe Chandler could fill that spot he left behind.

It was a blip. A momentary fucked thought to make me feel better.

Because Chandler withdrew more than anyone did. Talked to no one about it. Barely said hey to me or Banks. But he was always there. In the corner at Sunday dinners. Silent and shadowed.

It’s where Sky would’ve been if he were still alive. In the corner. Keeping to himself.

“Thatcher,” Chandler says, which causes the whole foyer to fall silent. Cousins turn toward me.

“Sorry about Banks!” Myles speaks with an outdoor voice. “Fuck him for not being here.”

“Yeah, he’s dead to us!” Paulie shouts. 

I thread my arms. “I’m not icing out Banks. You shouldn’t either. He wanted to be here.”

“Banks just got resurrected!” Vito shouts.

Everyone laughs. 

“Where’s this go?” Chandler asks me, like he can’t stand to hang around them for longer than a handful of minutes.

“Banquet room. Down the hall. Take a sharp right.”

He up-nods in thanks, then exits first. The others loiter to ask me, “Is it affection or affiction?”

“I’m telling you affiction isn’t a fuckin’ word,” Paulie retorts.

“Thatcher would know.” Vito motions to me with the OJ. “He’s got that blue blood in his veins now. Isn’t that right?” He’s grinning.

I do know the right word. I war with saying it like a smartass or keeping quiet. Fuck it. “It’s affliction.” They’re both wrong.

Myles groans.

“I knew that,” another cousin says.

“You did not,” Myles snaps back.  

Paulie gapes like it’s a brand new word I shot out of the sky. 

Vito laughs. “She read youse the dictionary every night?”

I feel hostile when he brings up Jane and cut him a warning look. “You forget to read yours?”

He lifts the OJ higher in defense. “I’m Vito Moretti. Not Antonio Ramella.” He grimaces at that name. Not many Morettis love Tony. They know he got with my girlfriend in high school and continues to be an insufferable prick, but we all put up with him to appease the family.

I exhale the steam, knowing Vito wouldn’t hit on my fiancé, let alone on my wedding day. He’d be more likely to saw off his own fucking hands than be forced to do that to a cousin or a brother. He just loves to rib the hell out of me and Banks like we’re his younger brothers.

He raises his brows. “You’re marrying a Cobalt princess. Teasing you about it is gonna last a lifetime. Better get used to it now.”

I’ve already gotten an earful. As his grin softens, I nod to him, all the heat gone in my chest. Noise escalates at the entrance, drawing my attention away from Vito. More cousins flood the foyer and pool through the double doors. 

“Watch it! Charlie Cobalt’s bodyguard has Carol’s quiche!” Cousins part like the Red Sea, giving clearance to an SFO bodyguard in a dapper suit so he won’t drop the prized possession.

He’s carrying my grandma’s glass pan, but it’s the zucchini quiche everyone wants to eat. “Name’s Oscar,” he says to them. “O-S-C-A-R. Oscar.”

Behind Oscar, a chestnut-haired bodyguard comes into view, also dressed in a suit. “Name’s Donnelly!” He hoists another pan. “D-O-N-N-E-L-L-Y. You’re not gonna want to forget it.”

Vito is unimpressed and nods to the last guy entering the foyer. “You got a name you wanna spell to?”

Farrow gives him a casual middle finger, then his eyes hit mine, and I motion my head toward the hallway behind me. Needing to talk to him with more privacy.

He’s not carrying breakfast like Oscar and Donnelly—who I assume ran into some of the women in the parking lot and were tasked with carrying in breakfast. Instead, Farrow has a garment bag folded over his arm, which likely contains his suit since he’s in black slacks and a plain black tee. 

As he approaches me with a nonchalant stride, I hear Myles using the worst whisper, “Farrow Keene is the coolest dude I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” He knows who Farrow is, not just because they went to my bachelor party but because Farrow is plastered in tabloids.

“Don’t know a Farrow Keene,” Donnelly quips. “Think this one is more of a Hale.”

Quinn is a late arrival, toting about five canvas grocery bags on his arms. “Hale what? Is it Luna?”

“We’re talking about Farrow,” Donnelly clarifies. “His coolness.”

Myles looks like he wants to rewind time and stick his head in a couch cushion. 

“Don’t let Farrow fool you,” Oscar tells my cousin. “He snores like a dying hyena in his sleep.”

Farrow rolls his eyes dramatically, only for me to see. He keeps his back to his friend. “That motherfucker.”

Oscar is about to retort but he catches my gaze and his smile grows. If I can’t have Banks and Akara here, they’re the next best thing. SFO. These men are the foundation, the ground beneath my feet. “You better get ready, Moretti. Time’s going to fly.”

I wonder if it flew for him. Then I remember, Oscar got drunk and that’s how he accidentally got married. I laugh more in my chest, then nod. When I lead Farrow toward the banquet room, I side-eye him.

He side-eyes me. “I don’t snore.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then what’s with the look?” He scrutinizes me up and down. “Everything okay?”

I turn my head back toward the foyer. But we’ve already taken a sharp right. Oscar and Donnelly and my cousins are gone from sight, but the feeling of having people here for Jane and for me—of not being alone—still fills me.

“It’s getting better.”

Farrow nods a couple times, his frown staying with fragments of confusion. Even as we stand off to the side from the long table where pans and plates are spread out. One of my aunts is tossing blue petals of Jane’s choice of flowers on the white cloth. Making it look nice for her.

I check the time on my watch and scout our AO. Habit. “Where’s Ripley?”

“With Loren.”

Surprise hits my face. I thought he would’ve said with Maximoff. “How come?”

“Maximoff wants to give Jane his whole attention like she gave him, and…” He motions his hand to me. “Banks isn’t here.”

“Yeah, he’s not making it.” I’m more rigid, trying not to let the fact tank my mood. My brother wouldn’t want that.

Farrow nods once, looks me over. “I’m sorry, man.”

My brows knit together as I think this through. “You hate dropping off your baby with someone else.” I distinctly remember apartment hunting with the newborn in the backseat because Farrow wouldn’t let go.

“To trust other people with the most precious, fragile thing in my life”—he tips his head to the side in thought—“it’s not easy, but it’s getting easier.” He combs a casual hand through his hair. “What do you need?”

It’s still slamming into me what he’s doing.

Farrow grinds out a contorted look. “Little Jane got your tongue?”

I glare. “No.”

“There we go. He speaks.”

I breathe out a deep breath. “You want me to say it?”

“Say what?”

“You handed over your baby so you could help me today.”

Farrow stares me down, and a silent beat passes between us—we both know he wouldn’t do this for just anyone. Then he breaks the quiet. “You want a card too?” He glances towards the doorway. “Because I actually forgot to get you one.” He raises and lowers his brows back at me. “Guess this is going to have to be enough of a gift.”

I nod, my lips lifting.

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“This is going to be one though.”

He’s confused. “What is?”

“I want you to stand beside me.”

Farrow goes absolutely fucking still. “You what?”

“During the ceremony. I want you to take Banks’ place. Be my best man.”

His face is frozen in disbelief. Then he chokes on a weird noise. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“Maybe. But if it’s not Banks at the end of the line beside me, I have a feeling decades from now, it’s gonna be you.”

He blinks several times, then diverts his gaze from me. When he looks back, his eyes are reddened. “Shit.” He intakes a deeper breath. “You weren’t kidding about this being a thing.”

“Do I ever kid?”

He laughs hard, his smile stretching across his face. Then he nods repeatedly. There’s no denying we’ll be in each other’s lives through Jane and Maximoff’s friendship. But it’s grown beyond that.

I’m always going to be here for Farrow, and I have no doubt he’ll always be there for me. Without me asking, without question, he was ready to be here for me today.

“I’ll do my best,” Farrow tells me. “For you and for Banks.”

“I know you will,” I say seriously. “Or I’ll write you up.”

“See, you do kid.”

“Who said I was kidding?”

He considers this, eyeing my features. “You better be fucking with me.” When he sees my partial smile, he runs his tongue on his molars and fights a grin. “Fuck you.”

I pry out my earpiece. “I need to go find someone. I’ll meet you in the dressing room later. Some of Jane’s brothers are probably already there.” I give him a couple other tasks. He needs to check in with my uncles. Make sure they have the updated itinerary and let them raid the bar early. I finish with, “You good to go?”

“Yeah, I have it covered. Go, Hall Monitor. Before I do something you really will write me up for.”

There are few people I trust more than Farrow.

With that taken care of, I shove off.

I find Xander in the guest bathroom. “Someone’s in here!” he calls out after I knock on the door.

“It’s Thatcher.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “Yeah, come in!”

My pulse thumps harshly, caustically, and I try running far from the past in my head. I slip inside, and I breathe easier when I see he’s reading The Hobbit while sitting on the toilet lid. He’s already in a tux, the bowtie undone at his neck.

“Sorry.” He shuts the paperback, the spine worn so much the title is illegible. “Does someone need this bathroom? I, um…just needed a place away, I guess.” 

“Away from what?” I force myself not to put the earpiece back in and listen to comms. I’m trying to detach. But I can’t even shut off my radio yet.

“The girls.”

“The girl squad?”

He scrunches his face. “No.”

Is someone harassing him? I’m a heartbeat from putting in my earpiece back in. “What girls?”

“The girls. I don’t know if they’re your cousins or staff or whatever, but I feel like they’re watching everything I fucking do. I don’t know. I just needed…I mean, you’re about to get married. This isn’t about me. Sorry.” He tosses the book on the sink counter, then sighs. “I already said that, but I am sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.” I focus back on the door. “What’d they look like?”

“Nononono,” he says fast. “I shouldn’t have said shit. It’s not bothering me. I’m fine. Really.” He rests a hip on the sink. “You’re not here as my security. You’re the groom. Do groom shit.”

I let go of my earpiece. The cord falls on my shoulder. I extend my arms to show him. “Groom. Not bodyguard.”

He relaxes, letting out a long breath. “Thanks.”

I’ve seen this kid when he was just a little kid who wouldn’t leave his room. Now he’s a teenager and he’s going out in public. Hell, he’s going to fucking Wawa of all places. I think that’s Donnelly’s doing. I think a lot is, actually.

Xander is much braver, much more confident in his skin. And he made it past fifteen.

He made it past fifteen.

Quietly, I tell him, “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”

Xander nods back, his breath staggering. “Yeah. Me too.” Then he adds, “I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.” He pauses. “Except for a Viggo meet-and-greet.” He has a slanted smile so I know he’s joking.

“I’d haul your ass back here.”

“Moffy would probably beat you to it.”

“Probably. You have a great big brother.”

He smiles softer. “Yeah. I do.” He thinks for a moment. “I don’t have any words of wisdom for when you’re up there marrying Jane. It’s not like I’ve ever been in love, but I can tell you what Banks would say if he were here.”

Heart. Full. “What’s that?”

“Don’t nuke it.”

A smile battles through my eyes. I feel it. “And he’d tell you to stay frosty, kid.”

Xander gives me a salute. “Galu.” It’s Elvish for good luck.

“Novaer,” I reply one of the several phrases I know. It means be good.

Before I go, he asks if it’s okay to read a while longer. He doesn’t need my permission, but I give it to him for peace of mind. I tell him to tell my cousins to fuck off if they give him a hard time for occupying the toilet. There are two other restrooms just on the first floor. They can go piss in those. 

And then I leave.

I still haven’t found him. It takes a while. Because he’s not inside the castle. I should’ve known he’d be outside. In the garden. Back at the place I’d left.

I finally find Ben Pirrip Cobalt. Jane’s youngest brother. He’s sitting on the bank of the babbling brook. Vibrant orange leaves float downstream, heading for a small stone bridge. Ben’s bare feet are in the water. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees.

I’m approaching from his six, so I can’t tell if he’s staring at the rocks or a tadpool or if he’s just zoning out.

Trying not to startle him, I call out, “Ben?”

He cranes his neck back. “Hey, you need help with something?” He’s a second from standing.

“Don’t get up.” I come join him.

He stretches his legs back into the water, hesitation on his face, but he relaxes when I take a seat at his side. His black slacks are rolled up his calves, and his suit jacket lies in a heap in the grass. His tie along with it.

“It’s not that quiet out here,” he warns me. “Two florists were in a shouting match about blue cornflowers. Got pretty heated until Gertrude intervened.”

“Gertrude?”

He puffs out a breath. “Bartender, I think. She didn’t say her occupation, but she was stocking the bar, so…context clues.” He scratches at his wavy brown hair, pieces curling over his brows. “Don’t you need to get ready?”

“I can take a minute.” I unlace my boots, ripping them off my feet, then peeling off my socks. Ben watches as I stick my feet into the bone-chilling water. I give him a look.

He smiles, and when Ben smiles, it’s like brightness of the world increases, like he has the power to change the exposure and saturation with one tic of his lips. “I didn’t say it was warm.”

“No, you didn’t,” I say. “Were you trying to find a quiet spot?”

“Sort of.” He stares up at the rustling trees, as the leaves cling one more second to their branches. “I just like the fall.” He smiles back at me. “Bet you didn’t think this is what you’d be doing the morning of your wedding. Chilling with your fiancé’s seventeen-year-old brother.”

I let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t have pictured any of this.” I glance around at the castle, at the gardens and marble statues worthy of a god. For the longest time, I felt like a warrior in one of Homer’s epic poems. I felt more mortal than I did immortal.

The Cobalts are the ones who live forever. I just fight for them until I can’t fight any longer. 

Ben soaks in my features. “What’d you think your wedding would be like?”

“As a kid, I probably thought this day would come earlier,” I admit. “I would’ve thought I’d be fresh out of high school with a pregnant girlfriend.”

“No one taught you sex ed?”

“I wasn’t as careful as I could’ve been.” I watch the water ripple over our feet. “I would’ve had a shotgun wedding in the Catholic church. If the priest would’ve even let us get married there. She’d be unhappy. I’d be unhappy. We’d either stick it out or divorce.” I frown. “I didn’t envision happy endings. Not like this. Not for a kid like me.”

It’s always been too easy to talk to Ben. I can’t even say why. I’ve told him about Skylar. Hell, he’s one of the only people I’ve ever verbally told about Sky.

“A kid like you?” Ben breathes.

I hang my head and see the two cornics dangling off the gold chain around my neck. “I blamed myself for a lot.”

“With your brother, you mean,” Ben says quietly, gently.

“With my brother,” I confirm. “After that, I just didn’t think this type of happiness was made for me. I probably didn’t think I deserved it.”

“You do,” Ben says certainly. “Your whole life has been in dedication and service of others. You’re the definition of heroic.” He laughs to himself. “You even put up with my family’s antics out of sheer love for my sister. If you ever think you’re not good enough for the Cobalt Empire, just know you’re better than most of us. But that’s coming from the weakest link, so take it for what it’s worth.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re not the—”

“I’m the outlier, the one that doesn’t fit exactly right, whatever you want to call it.” He lounges backwards, staring up at the clouds. “It’s just a fact.” He sounds more confident than defensive. Then he reaches over and grabs my wrist. He lifts it up towards his eyes to read the time. “You sure you have this many minutes to spare?”

“Trying to get rid of me, Pip?”

He smiles at the name I started calling him when I lived at the Cobalt Estate. “I could waste forever with people I love, but Cobalts aren’t supposed to waste time. And technically, you’re about to become one. CBM. That’s what Eliot or Tom said.”

Cobalt by Marriage. I heard it.

And I know I’m the first CBM. Jackhammering the way for whatever lucky soul can make it through these diamond-encrusted, barricaded, steel-bolted gates.

“I came out here to ask you something.”

He sits up on his elbow and picks at a weed in the grass. “What about?”

“With my brother and Akara held up, we need to fill one groomsman spot.” I hold his gaze. “I want it to be you.” I ask, “Will you be up there with me when I marry your sister?”

Ben smiles weakly. “Did Eliot and Tom turn you down or something?” He sits up more and mentions, “Eliot did say he’d rather be a flower girl.”

“I didn’t ask them. I’m just asking you.”

He stares out at the water rolling over smooth pebbles. Over our feet. Then his head whips to me. “Is this out of pity? Because I don’t need a pat on the shoulder—”

“It’s out of love. Not pity.”

Ben takes this in. “You want me up there with you? Over Xander, too?”

“The minute I had to choose, you were the first on my list.”

He’s unblinking, staring back at the water.

“Your mom has your tie,” I tell him. “It’s pastel. I think pink or green.”

 He sniffs hard. Then shifts his glassy eyes to mine. He’s near tears. “Why me?”

“Because today isn’t about losing brothers. It’s about gaining new ones.” I clutch his shoulder. “You’re mine, and I hope as you get older, I’ll always be close to you. That’s what I picture now when I envision my happy ending.” I push myself to add more. “And I think…” I look into Ben’s baby blue eyes that are vast and sometimes pained but more welcoming than most. “I think Skylar would’ve loved you. I know I do.”

He rubs at his runny nose. He blinks, tears falling down his cheeks, and he catches my hand, pulling me into a hug before I can pull him into one.

“Je t’aime aussi.” And more quietly, he says, “I’m happy to get another brother. Even happier it’s you.”

Thank you so much for reading this month's extra bonus! It was a delight to get this perspective from Thatcher and show his relationships with cousins, friends, and a soon-to-be brother. We hope you enjoyed it!!

That's all the bonus for the month, but next month we'll be back and hopefully with more wedding festivities.

xoxo Krista & Becca

 “Last Minute Wedding Changes (Thatcher)," Copyright © 2024 by K.B. Ritchie