"What is this never bullshit?" I said. "That's the sting of the breakup talking. Since when have you ever been a quitter and a negative thinker? You've got that month-long tour of Europe you're off to in a week. Knowing you, you'll meet some hot Spanish or Italian or French tour guide. I'll get a text from you saying you're never coming home. You're going European and moving in with your new boyfriend in some exotic locale."
She smiled through her tears. "That is so much crap. You know me better than that. There's no way I want to sit on my thumbs someplace. I've got a job waiting for me at my dream company. I have a promising career in front of me. I'm not giving it up for a Spanish tour guide."
"All right, a fling, then. Tour guides are usually charming and hot, right? That's how they get the big tips from the ladies. I hope you budgeted plenty for that."
She shoulder-bumped me. "Seriously, Noah. Maybe this is a good thing. Now I can focus on my career. No romance to distract me. No crappy boyfriend bringing me down."
I nodded. "Yeah. That's the spirit."
"What about you?" she asked.
"What about me? I'm not going to Europe. Unlike some rich girls I know, I have no money to make a grand tour. Some of us jokers have to become working stiffs right out of the gate. Sad to say, no hot tour guides for me."
"That's not what I meant and you know it. What are your life goals? Are you still set on making money, money, money?"
"Absolutely. I'm going to be a millionaire by thirty. I want to run the big machine."
"Mercenary man," she said.
"What? You know this about me." It was true. "I'll use my money responsibly. I want the world to be a better place."
"I know, Noah. That's you. You're a reckless romantic. Speaking of which—what about love?" She snuggled against me, driving me crazy, and rested her head on my shoulder. "Don't you want a wife? Kids? True love?"
"Yeah. Sure." I took a swig of beer, uncomfortable with this turn of the conversation. "After I make my first million, at least. Maybe billion."
"You just said you'll do that by thirty." She made a tiny hiccough and dabbed her eyes again. "I don't want to be alone. I want to be married by thirty." She popped her head up. "Noah?"
We'd both been staring straight ahead.
I turned to look at her. "Yeah?"
"Let's make a pact—if neither of us are married by thirty, we'll marry each other." She looked so damn beautiful and totally guileless.
My heart stopped. How could she know me so well and not see she was breaking my heart and giving me false hope?
"What?" I said. "You'll marry me when I have money? Mercenary bitch. You're just trying to catch a rich guy."
She actually laughed. "You're such a turd sometimes, Noah. I'll sign a prenup. I don't want your money. I figure if I haven't found someone who sweeps me off my feet by the time I'm thirty, the smartest thing to do is marry my best friend."
I put my mask up, hoping she couldn't see my heart beating in my chest. "I have heard that a good marriage is based largely on friendship and respect."
"Exactly," she said. "What do you say?"
"Thirty-five?"
"Always negotiating. Why haven't I noticed that about you before? Thirty," she said. "And not a day more." She held her hand out to me. "Shake on it?"
"A gentlemen's agreement? Huh." I set my beer down and took her hand in both of mine. I raised it to my lips and kissed it. "Deal. I'll even buy you a big-ass ring. I can afford it in the future."
I paused. All right, it had to be said. "Just for the record, you mentioned kids. Is this going to be a real marriage? Friends with benefits?"
"Yes, Noah." She rolled her eyes. "Friends with benefits. Why is sex always on guys' minds?"
"Simply clarifying the details. I never enter into a contract without knowing what I'm getting into."
She hugged me enthusiastically and kissed me on the cheek. "Deal, Noah."
Chapter 5
Twenty-six
I slumped in the dark corner booth of the local brewpub, drinking away my sorrows, waiting for Gray. We both worked in downtown Seattle now. She at her dream job, working for a hard cider brewery, learning to be a brew master and manage the business side, too. Me at one of Seattle's many tech startups. We met for drinks after work every couple of weeks to catch up and let off steam. Usually at this place. Sometimes we got more adventurous. Tonight wasn't one of those nights.
Gray appeared at the doorway and scanned the crowd, looking for me. I wasn't usually this inconspicuous.
I waved and caught her attention.
I watched the guys watching her as she made her way to my booth and slid in across from me. She was still gorgeous—slender and put together in a sleek wool coat, tightfitting professional dress, and pumps. Her blonde hair fell down her back in soft curls. Sometimes when I first caught a glimpse of her, I had flashes of two-year-old Gray and the way two-year-old me felt about her. They were more pronounced when I was drunk. I was probably imagining them anyway. They had to be false memories. Probably implanted by Mom years ago.
Gray's features were sharper than they'd been in college. She wore more makeup and played up the planes of her face. She was thinner and more determined. It only made her more beautiful. I still ached for her.
"Crap, Noah. You really did it." She frowned. Worry lines creased her forehead. She shoved a glass of water toward me.
"I had to, Gray," I said morosely.
"You're the one who broke up with her." She reached across the table and grabbed my hands. "You're almost always the one who does the breaking up. Should you be this upset? You did the right thing."
"Hurting someone else feels shitty, Gray. You know that, you heartbreaker."
She smiled softly. "Oh, Noah. You were always a sensitive guy."
I snorted and pulled my hands away. Sensitive. What an insult. "What could I do? She was getting too serious. Too clingy. I'm not a dick. I couldn't string her along any more. It wasn't going to end well."
Gray slid her coat off her shoulders, folded it, and set it on the seat next to her. "I don't know what your problem is, Noah. Look at you. You're one of the few straight guys who knows how to dress. You look like you have your shit together. Women love you. You attract them like flies. You're always dating someone. Why don't any of them ever measure up to your expectations?"
I don't know, Grace. Maybe because they're not you? At some point I realize that and end things.
When I didn't reply, she sighed. "Have you ever thought that maybe you're not dating the right type of woman?"
"I'm dating the right type of woman." I was defensive. "I just haven't found the right one of the right type yet. Unlike you, who always happens to find Prince Charming."
Her face lit up, breaking my already shattered heart. "Yeah, it's early days, but this one may be the one. I have a feeling about him."
"And your feelings are never wrong," I said, trying not to sound too cynical and like a complete douche. "If you're lucky, he'll be the one to save you from having to marry me in four years, dearie." I waggled my eyebrows and fingers villainously.
"That's better," Gray said. "That's the Noah I know and love. And maybe you're right. With luck, I won't have to open my door on my thirtieth birthday and see you there to enforce our pact."
"Hey," I said. "I thought you said marrying your best friend was the next best thing?"
"I'd rather marry for passion and love along with friendship."
"Now the truth comes out." I drained the last of my beer and signaled the waitress for another. "Don't worry about me. I'm not ready for marriage or commitment. I still have my million to earn." I winked.
Gray relaxed. She'd seen me through these moods before. I was already coming out of it. To tell the truth, I wasn't heartbroken over the breakup. Just burned by the way the ex had taken it. Not that I expected her to break into song or anything, but this one had been particularly bitter and ugly.
"About that million—how are things at work?"
I frowned. "You had to ask. I was just starting to feel better." I sighed. "Bleak. I'm polishing up my résumé. I have a line at another startup that's just getting large enough to bring someone with my skills on. I expect the current company to either go belly up or sell to a big fish within the year. A larger company bought up our main competitor and has been throwing money at them. They're eating our lunch."
"I'm sorry, Noah. You'll land on your feet. You always do."
"Yeah. I'm like a cat that way."
"Cheer up," Gray said. "Maybe the next one will be the one."
"And maybe the next girl will be the one."
"Maybe you'll meet the next girl at the next company."
"Let's not get carried away," I said. "This isn't a fairytale."
The waitress arrived with my beer. I lifted my glass to Gray. "Maybe I'll be attending your wedding this time next year."
She didn't refute me. My heart sank.
Chapter 6
Twenty-eight and 334 days
Gray asked me to dinner on Friday night. I knew what this meant—she had something big to tell me. There was little doubt what it was—the thing I'd been dreading since college. The big question was whether Christopher would be with her tonight. Would they tell me together?
I braced myself as I entered the waterfront restaurant. It was a pricey, high-end seafood place with an excellent view of the sound. We were grownups now. No more cheap pizza to celebrate milestones.
Gray was waiting for me in the lobby on Christopher's arm. Personally, I thought Christopher was a bit of a prick. Couldn't he just be Chris? No. Christopher. Like it gave him class or power or something.
He was a tall, good-looking guy. The kind of guy you'd imagine Gray with. His family was rumored to have money. He worked downtown, too, in finance. He was dressed in an expensive, immaculately tailored custom suit. I hadn't realized this was coat and tie. I was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, a sports coat, no tie.
Gray's face lit up when she spotted me. My gaze immediately fell to her left hand, which she had hidden in the pocket of her coat. Yeah.
"Noah." She threw herself into my arms, a hot, sexy bundle of joy.
I fixed a smile on my face while my heart cracked in two. This was the beginning of the end of our friendship. As soon as she tied the knot, things would change. Christopher was already jealous of my relationship with Gray. Once he had full claim on her, I had no doubt he'd use his power as her husband to keep her from seeing me.
I'd known this would end up being the case since the beginning. Only now that I was defeated and my hopes were dashed did I realize that all those years of not being honest for fear of ruining our great friendship were now coming back to bite me. I was losing her anyway, without a fight. Without even a struggle.
Christopher was beaming. He wore a huge, fat, smug smile, staring patronizingly at me as Gray and I hugged. His attitude was clear--Enjoy this now. Your days of being hugged by Gray are numbered. I'd never liked Christopher. There was something fake about him. Something a little too slick. A little too jealous and demanding. But Gray didn't see it.
Gray released me and took a step back to take Christopher's arm.
"You two have something to tell me?" I eyed Gray's left hand.
She glanced adoringly at Christopher. He nodded.
Gray held her hand out for me. A gigantic diamond sparkled in the center of a modern engagement ring that looked kind of like something Gray would pick out, but several degrees off.
I hugged Gray again. "Best wishes, baby. You deserve all the good things."
I released her and shook Christopher's hand. "Congratulations, man. You're getting the best girl on the planet."
He pulled Gray possessively closer. "Don't I know it."
Just then, the hostess called our name and showed us to our table. Christopher, big man that he was, ordered a bottle of champagne to toast his good fortune. The waiter poured.
I raised my glass to Gray and Christopher with a fake smile frozen on my face. "To my best friend and the guy she's choosing to make her life with—may you always be happy, healthy, and in love."
We ordered. I was then forced to endure the torture of hearing all the details of the proposal, smiling all the way. I had to give it to Christopher. He'd gone big and romantic. He even had a photographer and videographer follow them around to catch the whole thing. That was kind of a tip-off, wasn't it? A surprise killer? I expected an invitation to a movie night to see it for myself as soon as the videographer finished production. A big, showy proposal wasn't my style. I liked small and intimate. But that was me.
I watched Gray's expression as Christopher explained the planning he'd done to make the magic moment happen. It might have been my own hope showing, but I didn't think Gray was as impressed with the proposal as he was. If Christopher had known Gray, as I did, he would have been aware that Gray was a private, intimate person, too.
"You certainly kept this all under wraps well," I said. "Gray didn't even tell me you were ring shopping." I gave her a piercing look. You little sneak. I thought we told each other everything. Which was true. During the times when she wasn't madly in love with someone else. Like now. And forevermore.
Gray looked at Christopher a little helplessly. "We didn't go ring shopping. Christopher picked it out all by himself." She wiggled her ring finger.
How do you really feel about it, baby?
Christopher's chest puffed out. "I knew what she wanted. I'd run her past jewelry stores a time or two and had her show me what she liked."
Then you didn't listen particularly well, buddy.
I kept smiling. "I suppose it's too early to have a date."
"You suppose wrong," Christopher said. "You tell him, baby."
"We're getting married next year. In almost exactly a year," Gray said, coolly holding my gaze. "On the Saturday exactly a week after my thirtieth birthday."
"The week after." I raised an eyebrow. "So close and yet so far away. I thought you wanted to be married by thirty. What's wrong with the week before? The venue you wanted not available?"
I actually knew too damn much about weddings and venues. Over half my buddies had gotten married in the last year, and another group of them were engaged.
The smile froze on Gray's face. "No. Actually, Christopher wanted this date. It was his grandparents' wedding date. It has special significance for him."
"Oh. Good, then." I poured myself more champagne. "To sentimental wedding dates." My mood was turning sourer and sourer by the moment. Didn't Christopher give a damn about anything Gray wanted?
Christopher was one of those guys that I couldn't warn Gray off from without looking completely petty and paranoid. There weren't any obvious deal-breakers I could point to. Just selfish, pompous little things, like having to be married on his grandparents' wedding anniversary rather than when Gray wanted. I mean—who the hell cares about your grandparents' wedding date? Especially guys? There were dozens more examples, like the engagement ring.
Gray's genuine smile returned. The tension eased. She glanced at Christopher again.
He cleared his throat. "Actually, there's something I want to ask you, Noah."
I froze. What now? With my luck, he'd ask me to man the guestbook.
"Will you be one of my groomsmen?" He looked completely confident that I'd be delighted.
Damn. Being a groomsman meant the pure torture of watching Gray marry another man up close. It meant renting a crappy, ill-fitting tux or buying a suit I didn't need. It meant hanging out with Christopher at a stag party. It meant being on the enemy's side of the aisle.
I turned to Gray and joked, "What? I don't get to be a bridesmaid?"
Gray laughed. "We're having a traditional wedding, Noah. Anyway, you don't look good in pink satin."
I looked at Christopher and shrugged. "I guess you're stuck with me, then. Thanks. I'd be honored."
"It's all settled, then." He held out his hand for a shake. "Welcome aboard
the wedding party."
* * *
Back at my apartment later that night, I got hammered. The one thing Christopher conceded to Gray was making me part of the wedding party? He had to know I'd hate that. He wanted to keep an eye on me and keep me in line.
I'd long ago resigned myself to having to go to Gray's wedding. There was no way to avoid it. But I'd planned on showing up, eating the chicken dinner, and exiting at the first possible moment. If I were lucky, I'd have made my first million. At work, the buzz was we'd have our IPO right around Gray's wedding date. In my fantasies, I'd show up to Gray's wedding with a hot date. But unless I was actually dating the woman, Gray would see through that and call me out. I didn't need that.
I reluctantly put the date in my calendar. Fuck.
Chapter 7
Twenty-nine and 364 days
When I walked into the lobby, our receptionist greeted me and addressed a distinguished, well-dressed older guy seated in one of the guest chairs. "Mr. Thorne, here's Noah for you."
Mr. Thorne stood.
I sucked it up and shook his hand. "I don't believe we've met before. Noah Marston. How can I help you?"
"Pleasure," he said. "Colin Thorne, Esquire, Baily, Cragwell, and Thorne Solicitors, London. I'm here representing your family. May we speak in private?" He looked very solemn.
I turned to reception. I could take Mr. Thorne into the work area to one of our private conference rooms. But I'd have to sign him in and get him a temporary badge. We had two small private offices just off reception that didn't require badges.
"Room one's free," the receptionist said, reading the question on my face. "Do you need the code?"
"Has it changed in the last week?" I asked.
"No, sir."
"Then I'm good." I turned to Mr. Thorne. "This way."
I let us into the room and closed the door behind us. It was your typical bland office, not as well furnished as some, but showier than the worker offices in back. We were a startup, after all. Or had been until minutes ago. We didn't waste money on office furnishings, but we still had to attempt a show for the public. I supposed that would all be changing soon. We'd get an upgrade. Small compensation for being screwed out of millions.
Castled Prologue: Duke Society Series Page 3