by Hayleigh Sol
Perhaps I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion when Tracie had first told me about Noah’s assistant. The boss fooling around with his assistant was a cliché that, no doubt, had its basis somewhere, but that didn’t mean every boss and every assistant played to type. Just because my father and his assistant had.
Neither of my targets had spotted me behind them, too intent on the tablet they were sharing. Jessica was speaking quietly, showing Noah something he couldn’t stop grinning over. My gut reaction was that their heads were bent a bit too close for comfort, but I again admonished myself to stop with the assumptions.
Garrett would be so proud of me.
I smiled, thinking I’d have to text him about my personal growth later.
“You’ll email those photos to me, right? Give me something to dream about through these next few weeks of wedding chaos.” Jessica said something I couldn’t hear. “Nah, don’t worry about that. Tracie has no idea, and she’s not the type to snoop through my email. We’re good.”
Aw, crap.
My feet froze, my lips still parted as I’d been moments away from greeting my friend’s busted fiancé. Who abruptly stood and faced my direction, his assistant a beat behind him.
“Oh, Bailey, you’re here.”
Damn right I am.
“Hi, sorry if I’m interrupting.” Yeah, not sorry.
Noah assured me they were just wrapping up, introducing me to Jessica briefly before she left us to take care of something before his next meeting.
“Shall we go check out the plans for your launch? I have to tell you again what a great job my girl and her team did on the website and app. Not that I was the least bit surprised. Tracie’s a genius at what she does.”
Hmm, was he overcompensating with the praise? Afraid of what I’d just witnessed in the lobby?
“With a little push from our marketing team and some contacts I have in the industry, I think you’re really gonna hit the ground running.” His grin was friendly and encouraging. “Hope you can handle the fallout.”
Can you?
“I’m more than ready. Nothing stops me once I know what needs to be done.”
Okay, so maybe I was sounding a little mob boss there. His look of surprise at my arrival could’ve been just that, and not one of guilt. The truth was that I didn’t actually know what he’d wanted to hide from Tracie.
Although, the fact that he was hiding anything made me squirm in an uncomfortably familiar way. “So, the big day’s coming up in just a few weeks.”
I left it as a statement, curious to see how he’d respond as we walked down a quiet hallway with large windows that displayed the landscaped courtyard at the center of multiple buildings. The walls opposite the windows were painted the standard sterile white. My own boutique had blue–green walls that were comforting and calming, a shade I’d received countless compliments on over the years. Whenever I saw white walls in a business, I wondered if the owner was cold and unfeeling, or simply unimaginative.
“Yeah, I can’t believe it’s happening so soon. But, at the same time, I’m impatient to have it done already.”
“Impatient?” Had I been right back in August when I’d thought Noah was after Tracie’s money? I’d dismissed the idea as he certainly didn’t seem to be hurting financially, but I also had a best friend who’s ex had recently tried to maneuver her out of her own company and he’d seemed solvent, too.
Noah glanced over at me and chuckled. “I guess that sounds weird, huh? I’m just ready to be married to Trace. Know what I mean?”
“So you’ve been cool with having a short engagement?” When Tracie had told me their timeline, I’d thought they were nuts. An engagement was your last chance to make sure you were sure. Really sure. Aaron and I had been engaged for eight months before I’d found out what he was hiding. I’d been grateful for that time, in the end.
“Yeah, I’d have married her sooner but I wanted to give her time to get used to the idea.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Tracie may be the only woman I’ve ever known who wasn’t in a rush to tie the knot like the apocalypse was nigh.” He chuckled again. “Well, both of you, I guess.”
“It’s a major step. Takes a lot of trust to commit to someone like that.” My mind was wandering too much into my own history. I had to remember why I’d started this conversation in the first place. “You never know what secrets someone could be hiding.”
I caught the questioning frown on his face out of the corner of my eye and forced a laugh. “For example, you could have a hidden room at your place with a massive action figure collection. Which, knowing your bride, would probably become her favorite place to hang out.”
He laughed and nodded. I doubted either one of them really was into action figures—I’d probably have heard about it by now if they were—but they had gone to Comic–Con in San Diego last year and I knew one of their first dates had been to a midnight showing of whichever Marvel movie was out at the time. In many ways, they fit a certain stereotype. But Noah had also made a name for himself with his bold and risky business ventures. He was more than the shy computer geek Tracie saw in him.
“Or you could be, I don’t know, marrying Tracie for her money.” I forced another laugh and made a sweeping motion with my hand to encompass the impressive complex around us, like the suggestion was preposterous. “You two are signing a prenup, right?”
“Uh, yeah, we did already.”
“Good, so no surprises.” I turned my head, keeping the playful smile on my face as I watched him. “No secrets between you two.”
Come on, Noah, give me a flinch. Some kind of sign I’m on the right path here.
He didn’t flinch, and his hands were still in his pockets. A relaxed pose, as we stopped outside a set of double doors, but I detected a rigid tension in his shoulders and jaw.
For a beat, he returned my watchful gaze, through slightly narrowed eyes. He met my smile with his own—classic mirroring negotiation technique meant to put the prospect at ease—and relaxed his shoulders. “Nope, no secrets here.”
He may as well have shouted, “I’m hiding something”. Or someone.
“Glad to hear it. Tracie’s important to me; I’d hate to see her hurt.” My smile fell at the thought of how I might contribute to that eventuality.
Noah’s own casual demeanor slipped a notch, though we were both still smiling. Just the groom and the maid of honor chatting it up in the hallway.
“Is this the part where you threaten to maim me if I hurt Tracie?”
I dropped the pretense and stared him down, arms crossed over my chest. “No, that would be predictable, wouldn’t it? And, really, does anyone ever believe that kind of threat?” He shook his head slowly. “Besides, if you are hiding something, the truth has a way of revealing itself.”
“Ah, so it’s to be a different kind of threat. The threat of the self–righteous.” His jaw clenched again.
Channeling Captain Jack Sparrow, I affected a cockney accent and an insolent head tilt. “Sticks and stones, love.”
“Look, Bailey.” He sighed and slipped his hands back into his pockets, shedding the tension like a suit jacket at the end of a long day. “I’m sorry about the self–righteous comment. I believe you’re a good friend to Tracie and that you want what’s best for her. I want that too.” The corners of his eyes pinched. “I also know you’ve been burned in the past and that trust doesn’t come easily to you. We actually have that in common.”
Tracie had told me Noah was anti–relationship in the beginning because so many women before her had dated him for his money and connections. I could see that making someone leery. I also appreciated his apology. Begrudgingly. It wasn’t the first time someone had tossed the same insult at me, but I didn’t recall anyone expressing regret for it.
“Is there anything I can say to convince you that I’m a good guy? If Tracie trusts me, maybe you can too.”
Uggh, another person expecting
you to blindly trust them simply because they’d asked you to.
“Sure. I mean, I support Tracie in whatever she wants to do with her life.”
He laughed a bit. “Even if that means marrying me, huh?”
I tipped my head, conceding his point.
“Tough crowd. But that’s alright. I admire you for wanting to protect your friend. Just…give me a chance, okay? At some point, we’ll need to make nice for Tracie’s sake.”
“Noah, as long as you treat her right, I have no problem with you. From what Tracie’s told me and from what I’ve seen, you are a good guy.” I didn’t mention my suspicions about his assistant, didn’t want to tip him off more than I already had. I needed to talk to Tracie first.
A relieved smile filled his face. “Thank you, it’s nice to hear you say that.” He reached for a door handle. “Should we see if the team’s ready for us?”
Chapter 24
I hadn’t been able to talk to Tracie like I’d wanted to Friday evening. What we needed to discuss should be done in person and in private, but she’d been busy with Noah.
That was fine, I was heading to her parents’ house to help set up for the bridal shower. It wasn’t the ideal setting to tell her about what I’d seen and how I thought she should handle it, but it was better to make her aware as soon as possible. There was still plenty of time to call the whole thing off, if that was what she decided to do.
Everyone knows what they say about the best laid plans, though. From the moment Mrs. Newberg answered the door, the woman scarcely left my side. Would I be a dear and help with her hair, and did we have a system for keeping track of which guest brought which gift—I assured her I did—and could I just move that table a little to the left, no, back to the right? Tracie managed to keep a smile on her face throughout the process, widening her eyes comically at me when we passed each other on the way to do whatever her mother had requested now.
You’d think Mom was the one getting married. Tracie and I finally had a moment to ourselves after I’d set her mom’s hair in rollers and left her applying her makeup.
“Sheesh, I thought we’d never escape.” Tracie brushed her hair and met my eyes in the mirror.
“Is there such a thing as a mother of the bridezilla?”
Tracie giggled. “I think there is now.”
“Hmm, or would it be a motherzilla of the bride?” We grinned at each other and Tracie twisted her hair into a low side bun. My friend looked quite elegant, even though she was still wearing a computer–geek t–shirt—it actually said “computer geek” with a definition I hadn’t managed to read yet—and a pair of gym shorts with a frayed hem. God, I loved this lady.
“How many emails did she send you in the planning of this party?”
My hair and makeup were already done, so I passed Tracie bobby pins she didn’t need me to hand her. “Oh, your future mother–in–law was busier on the email front. Your mom actually texted more.” Tracie gave a sympathetic moue in the mirror. “It got so bad, I was considering blocking her number. Nah, I’m totally kidding. She’s sweet, and we both know she just wants today to be perfect for you. So does Noah’s mom.”
“That’s very diplomatic of you. Especially when I know mine sends those super long mom texts.”
The accurate description made me grin. “Why do all moms do that?”
“It’s a mystery we’ll never solve. You know the worst part?” I raised my eyebrows. “Someday, that’ll be us, too.”
I cracked up and made her promise to let me know if my texts ever became novel length.
“What’s so funny in here, girls?” Tracie’s mom appeared behind me, as suddenly and creepily as if we’d summoned her by saying her name three times in the mirror with the lights off.
So much for that private talk with Tracie.
Ashley and the photographer, Jasmine, arrived by the time we finished up in the bathroom and Tracie went to the guest room to change into the dress we’d found for her a couple of weeks back.
That had been an interesting shopping trip. Her mother had tagged along, citing a need for a new tea dress herself. The theme of the shower was an English garden tea, which wasn’t exactly Tracie’s jam. She’d wanted her mom to be happy, though, so she’d gone along with the idea. Until the day we went shopping, when Mom had excitedly pointed to a dress for her daughter that looked so similar to the one she’d chosen for herself you’d swear they were the same.
Tracie’s pleading eyes had me jumping in and demonstrating, delicately, how the style wasn’t the most flattering for the bride. I’d already moved several options for her to a dressing room and I kept that diplomacy rolling by suggesting we try those first and see what everyone thought.
Dress disaster averted.
A few cousins, including the nihilistic poetry–writing Cindy I’d been dying to meet, a couple of aunts, the mothers of the bride and groom, Tracie’s grandmother who was still with us, and assorted friends of the bride brought our total to just under twenty. A comfortable number, Ashley had assured me, for a bridal shower, especially if you didn’t want everyone to feel trapped while the bride opened gifts for three hours. I’d relied on her advice the past few weeks since I’d never been to a shower before, let alone planned one, and it was important to make sure Tracie, and not just her mother, enjoyed the event.
When I’d done my due diligence online, I’d been horrified at some of the stories I’d read. From someone spilling the beans about a pregnant bride whose future in–laws hadn’t been told the happy news, to a shower that sounded more like a bachelorette deal, complete with shots and a stripper who gave a very shocked grandmother a lap dance.
While I wasn’t too worried about making either of those missteps, I went back and forth on what we should actually do at this shower. The general consensus was that everybody groaned and grumbled when party games were announced, but they all expected them and had fun anyway. I scrapped the games that sounded lame to me, or I thought Tracie wouldn’t be into, and I came up with one of my own.
It actually ended up being one of the favorites and, most importantly, Tracie couldn’t stop laughing when it was her turn.
I’d enlarged a picture of Noah in the Thor costume he’d worn to Comic–Con last year and directed everyone to pin the winged helmet on the Norse god. After blindfolding and a good several spins around of each partygoer, of course. The champagne we’d all been consuming may have contributed to the wobbles and giggles, but I’d take the win where I could.
Jasmine snapped a million candid photos that I couldn’t wait to see later. She was laughing along with the rest of the crowd, especially once we coaxed her into sipping a little bubbly with us.
Even the dreaded gift–opening campaign went more smoothly than I’d feared after my scary online discoveries and Ashley’s warnings.
In the invitations, I’d mentioned Tracie’s grandmother would be present, requesting that any gifts that might make a priest (or a conservative grandma) blush be topped with a black bow or ribbon. At the front door, I’d run intervention and put those gifts in a separate room for the bride to take home and unwrap later. An unforeseen benefit? The number of gifts Tracie opened in front of everyone was reduced by half.
Apparently, we had some kinky ladies here.
“Aww, look who’s here.” One of the aunts made the comment as Ashley and I tamed the pile of discarded wrapping paper and gift bags.
Heads around the room turned toward the entrance to the great room we’d taken over and, I swear, it was like an actual Hemsworth brother had joined us. The women practically leapt out of their chairs in their rush to get to Noah. I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a few fangirl squeals.
At my furrowed what–the–hell look, Ashley laughed. “Yeah, the groom’s like a rockstar at these things.”
Noah looked just as confused by the attention as I was, but he chatted with his adoring fans until the
y drifted off, one by one. Garrett had accompanied him to help with cleanup, which they got started on as Mrs. Newberg subtly herded the last few stragglers toward the front door.
“Hey, Trace, can I talk to you for a minute?” We’d been taking trips back and forth to the kitchen and this was our first five seconds alone.
“Sure, what’s up?” She turned to head back to the voices and other sounds of party dismantling, but I placed a staying hand on her arm.
“It’s kind of private.”
Her concerned look made nervous knots twist in my stomach as she led the way to her father’s office.
The shower had gone so well, and my friend was so happy, that I didn’t want to have this conversation now. Would it keep for another day or two? Probably. But then I spotted Noah and Ashley whispering and smiling together as they stacked folding chairs.
No, this couldn’t wait.
“Bailey, is everything okay? You’re kind of freaking me out.”
Surrounded by heavy, dark wood furniture and the standard leather upholstery that screamed, “a man does important manly work here” grated on my already stretched nerves. I scowled at an offending oversized bookcase, most of whose occupants had probably never even had their spines cracked.
Men. Always with the leather and massive furniture. I bet Tracie’s dad is a major mansplainer.
“Bailey?”
I turned back to face Tracie, who was standing just inside the door as if she sensed I was about to drop a bomb on her day.
And, possibly, her relationship.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to rip off the band–aid.” I cringed at the expression I’d told myself not to use when I’d practiced this speech last night and this morning. I didn’t want it to sound like I was taking this lightly.