Unleash Me: Wedding (The Unleash Me Series)

by Christina Ross

  “I should go,” I said. “Jennifer will be here to pick me up soon.”

  “I wish you’d let me drive you.”

  “I can’t do airport goodbyes,” I said. “If you drove me to LaGuardia, and the last thing I saw was your face, I’d just be a wreck. Hell, I’m going to need that drive to the airport just to have Jennifer talk me off a cliff about leaving you alone like this. Trust me—this is the best way.”

  “I get it,” he said. “I’m going to miss you, Lisa.”

  “And I’m going to miss you, Tank. I really am. But in a few days, all this will be behind us, and we’ll be man and wife.”

  My cell rang as I said that, and I knew it would be Jennifer. As I removed my phone from my pants pocket, I checked the display. Sure enough, it was Jennifer.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “It’s me, sweetcakes. Are you ready to do this? Because I’m double-parked outside your front door—and traffic won’t be very happy with me if you don’t move it along.”

  “On it!” I said. “See you in seconds.”

  I clicked off my phone, put it in my pocket, and looked at Tank. “Jennifer’s outside,” I said. “We should hurry before people start honking their horns at her for clogging the street.”

  Before I left for good, Tank swept me into his arms with such passion and meaning that I literally felt his heart pounding against mine as he held me close to him while he kissed me on the neck, cheek, and lips. He told me that he loved me. He thanked me for doing this without him. And then I told him I would do anything for him—absolutely anything. Because our love for each other deserved that. It was something to be respected—and I refused to allow anyone or anything to break it.

  ***

  When I left our townhouse, I was relieved to see that traffic was able to maneuver around Jennifer’s limousine—nobody was blowing their horns at her. All seemed to be good when Cutter sprang out of the car, said hello to me, and joined Tank in getting all my bags into the limo’s trunk.

  “So, this is it for now,” I said to Tank as I felt the warmth of the bright sunshine on my shoulders. “Give me a kiss.”

  When he did, it was so charged with his love for me that I just drank all of it in as we stood there on the sidewalk while a flood of people hurried past us in an effort to get to work. It was seven in the morning, and Manhattan was coming alive.

  “I’ll see you before you know it,” he said to me.

  “I’m counting on that.”

  “But in the meantime, I’m going to miss the hell out of you, Lisa.”

  “We’re doing the right thing,” I promised him. And I meant it, because I knew that if he didn’t go to his friend’s funeral, he’d regret it—which I just couldn’t have. “Please remember me to Brian’s wife and family. I know we haven’t met, but I want them to know that I will be with them in spirit.”

  “I’ll make sure they know that,” he said.

  I looked over at the car as Cutter swung open the back door for me. And when he did, a wealth of emotions overcame me. Tank and I were parting now, and I couldn’t help the tears that brightened my eyes.

  “I should go,” I said. “And soon—before I start to cry.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  “Very soon. I love you, Tank. Please know that I’ll always be with you.”

  And with a surprising depth of emotion in his voice, Tank—who rarely revealed his emotions to anyone—nevertheless shared his with me now. “You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I need you to know that.”

  “I do know it,” I said to him. “Because you show it to me every day. But I need to go—I’ll break if I don’t.”

  And so, with a final kiss on his lips, I stepped inside the car—and as I did, the hand that reached out to help me wasn’t Jennifer’s.

  Instead, it was Blackwell’s.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Well,” Blackwell said as Cutter shut the door behind me. “That couldn’t have been easy. I mean, just look at Tank, for God’s sake. Look at his face. If that isn’t the look of pure love, I don’t know what is.”

  She checked me when she said that, and her hand immediately dipped inside her purse to remove a Kleenex from it as I sat beside her and opposite Jennifer, who was looking at me with concern.

  “Here,” Blackwell said, handing me the tissue. “I know this is hard on both of you. Take it, my dear. Use it. Because it appears as if you might need to.”

  “Thank you,” I said, dabbing the tissue beneath my eyes as Cutter got into the front seat and cut out into traffic. I looked over my shoulder and saw Tank a final time. He was standing on the sidewalk with his right hand raised high in the air as he waved goodbye to me. And just seeing him like that—alone with the burden of having to go to his friend’s funeral during the very week of our wedding—cut through me to the point that tears welled in my eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as Tank faded from sight. “I’m usually tougher than this.”

  “Being tough is a virtue,” Blackwell said. “I’ll be the first to champion that. But being human also is one. Never forget that, Lisa. The love Jennifer and I just witnessed between you and Tank is the very reason you are getting married to him. And him to you.”

  When Jennifer leaned forward and put her hand on my knee, I knew that she, like Blackwell, felt my pain—and then I just took a deep breath in an effort to collect myself. I rarely cried in front of anyone. In fact, I hated to cry in front of anyone. It’s just not how I rolled.

  “My apologies,” I said as I pulled myself together.

  “Lisa, you are under so much stress, why wouldn’t you be upset that Tank isn’t with you now?” Jennifer asked. “I brought Blackwell with me for a reason—because if anyone can say the right words to you, it’s her.”

  I looked over at Blackwell, who wore a bright-yellow Chanel suit with matching heels, and I took the hand she proffered.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I thought you’d be at work now.”

  “I’ve already been to Wenn,” she said. “Jennifer and I had this planned the moment we learned that Tank needed to go to his friend’s funeral. Right now at Wenn, people think I’m just at some random meeting that will last for hours. So, don’t worry about me. We’re good. I’m where I should be.”

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” I said to each of them. “Because I’m not going to lie—that was hard as hell. I should be going to that funeral with him, and yet I’m not.”

  “Tank needs to support his friend,” Blackwell said. “And he also needs to spend time with Brian’s family. Meanwhile, you have your wedding to prepare for, which is also important. The timing is unfortunate, Lisa, but it is what it is—and both of you are doing the right thing.”

  “Why don’t we put all of this behind us and look to next week?” Jennifer suggested. “Because Barbara and I think you might need some guidance when it comes to being alone with Tank’s mother, and we wanted to share a few tips before you landed there later today.”

  “What tips?” I asked.

  “Before we begin with them, you aren’t traveling first class as you thought you were,” Jennifer said. “Instead, you are taking one of Wenn’s private jets.”

  “I’m flying on Wenn’s private what?” I asked.

  “You heard me,” she said. “Just think of it as one of your wedding gifts.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “Because right now, you deserve to fly private,” Blackwell said. “You deserve to be alone with your thoughts before you have to deal with Tank’s mother.”

  “But what does that mean? She’s been pretty nice to me lately. And I know she’s excited about the wedding.”

  “I understand that she’s come around, but Jennifer and I had a discussion on the drive over here, and we each believe you should have your guard up when it comes to her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “For month
s she’s thought that her son would be arriving with you,” Blackwell said. “The fact that he isn’t is a game changer. Soon she’ll have you to herself, and don’t think she doesn’t know it. Never forget that a leopard can hide in plain sight, Lisa, and that it never changes its spots. You need to pay close attention to how that little Holy Roller treats you without Tank there to protect you.”

  “This is all I need to hear,” I said.

  “We could be wrong,” Blackwell said. “And let’s hope we are. But since you never know, we wanted you to be fully armed for anything.”

  “Speaking of Ethel,” I said, “she thinks I’m coming in on a United flight. Since I’m now apparently flying private, what do I tell her? Because I’ve got to text her something. And when she first hears of this, she’s going to think I’m being pretentious.”

  “Let her think what she wants,” Blackwell said. “Text her that you’ve changed your mind about United and that you’ve decided to fly private. Say nothing more, because the other message you’re sending her is already implied.”

  “What other message?”

  “That you are able to fly private. From everything you’ve told me about her, Ethel McCollister doesn’t understand just how successful you are, or—worse—that she doesn’t want to understand. Either way, your arriving in a private jet might change her perspective of you. Because if that doesn’t impress her, Lisa, I’m not sure what will.”

  “I’m not out to impress her, Barbara.”

  “Then you’re a fool when it comes to that one. Because when you tell her that you’ve decided to fly private, she’s going to see you with new eyes. Eyes that hopefully will have a measure of respect in them.”

  “I know her better than that. She’s only going see this as a gaudy show of money.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Blackwell said. “Never, ever underestimate the power of money. Because money always talks, and money has the power to influence others into silence. I say you dazzle this new ‘mother’ of yours when you walk off that jet.” She turned to Jennifer. “Where and when will Lisa be arriving?”

  “When she was on United, she was landing around four. But with us, she’s landing at three.”

  “So, are we doing this?” Blackwell said.

  I thought about it for a moment, finally deciding that Blackwell was right once again. I should go into Prairie Home with a sense of confidence at my back. And this would help.

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “But if I am going to do it, I’m not going to pretend I paid for this on my own. I don’t lie. So I expect Jennifer to bill me. No arguments.”

  “Lisa, that isn’t necessary,” Jennifer said.

  “I won’t do it otherwise,” I said. “And I mean it.”

  “All right,” she said with a sigh. “And actually, I see your point. You don’t want to feel like a fraud if she questions you about it.”

  “Exactly. So, you’ll bill me?”

  “I don’t want to, but I will.”

  “I have to text her about the changes,” I said, removing my SlimPhone from my handbag and switching it on. “Where is she going to pick me up? She’ll need to know.”

  Jennifer told me.

  “She’s so going to judge me when it comes to this,” I said as I started to tap out the text.

  “Or revere you for it,” Blackwell said. “Lisa, Ethel McCollister might indeed privately resent you for flying in on a massively expensive Learjet, but from what you’ve told me about her, I think she’ll brag to her friends about it. Do you think I’m wrong?”

  “When you put it that way? Not at all.”

  “Then hit send.”

  I sent the text.

  “Now, let’s get you on that plane.”

  ***

  When we were at LaGuardia and it was time to say goodbye to Jennifer and Blackwell, I heard my phone ding in my handbag.

  “She just texted me back,” I said.

  “What did she say?” Jennifer asked as I removed my cell from my handbag and read the message.

  “Just as I expected,” I said. “Shall I read it?”

  “Please do,” Blackwell said.

  “‘You’re flying private?’” I read. “‘Well, my goodness, Lisa, there’s no need to fly private here—trust me, because there’s nobody here to impress. I mean, certainly not me. You can just be yourself here, and I hope that you will be. Nevertheless, I’ll still be waiting for you at the designated location. I will see you soon. Best, Mother.’” I looked at them both. “Saying ‘best’ is the worst. She already hates me again.”

  “Actually, with this knowledge,” Blackwell said, “she’s rethinking everything when it comes to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That if she didn’t understand it before, she now knows that you truly are a woman of means, that you won’t compromise your life for anyone, and that she underestimated you. Because of that, you’ll never become her pawn. Of course, she can try to turn you into one if she wants, and she might. But on some level, she must know now that achieving that goal just came with a very steep incline that even our dear Ethel didn’t see coming.”

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, after saying my goodbyes, I was seated on the exquisitely designed jet and sipping a strong Bloody Mary before we took off for the five-hour trip to Prairie Home—where God only knew what awaited me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  What awaited me once I got off the plane, crossed the hot tarmac, and entered the FBO hangar—which all private aircraft had to use instead of one of the airport’s gates—was Ethel McCollister herself. When I first laid eyes on her as I entered the small lounge, I saw again where Tank had gotten his good looks.

  When she was young, Ethel must have been stunning, because in the fall of her life, she was beautiful.

  “Lisa,” she said, rising and holding out her arms to me. “Come and let me have a good look at you. It’s been so long!”

  Ethel was a tall reed of a woman somewhere in her early sixties, although due to good genes, she looked years younger. She had a coiffed helmet of blond hair, her face was lightly tanned and had a healthy glow about it, her lips were painted deep red, and she was dressed completely in white—stylish slacks, a fitted blazer buttoned once at the waist, and a camisole that betrayed not one millimeter of cleavage.

  If she were sitting on a cloud right then, she might be mistaken for an angel, which probably was her intent.

  But what nearly stopped me in my tracks was that hanging from her right shoulder to her left hip was a gorgeous Double V Louis Vuitton handbag in beige, which I knew for a fact had set her back four grand. Even though I knew the McCollisters were successful, Tank and I had never once discussed just how successful. Right now, that handbag of hers was doubling down in an effort to let me know that the McCollisters had money.

  Really? I thought as I walked toward her with a smile. You judged me for flying private and yet you’re carrying that bag? Who’s trying to impress whom, Ethel?

  Whenever I flew, I dressed comfortably. Today, that had meant a pair of black Dolce & Gabbana midrise skinny cropped pants and a white scoop-necked tank by Givenchy. On my feet were a pair of black Christian Louboutin T-strap sandals with a red sole. My handbag was a black city satchel bag by Prada. I was dressed more casually than Ethel, but I was still working it—and thank God I was, because as I reached out to give Ethel a hug, I saw her assess me in one swift, calculated glance.

  “It’s good to see you,” I said in her ear. “Thank you again for all your hard work and help. And for allowing us to host our wedding here.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” she said as she took a step back to soak me in. “You look trim and terrific, Lisa. You really do.”

  “And I can only say the same thing to you,” I said, meaning it. “Not only is that suit of yours on point, but I’m blown away by your bag. It’s gorgeous.”

  “I bought it in the city last week,” she said. “I went on a rare shopping spree. The bag, of cour
se, is a treat for my son’s wedding, and I simply adore it, even if Harold nearly collapsed when he saw how much it cost. But since our son is only going to get married once, I think I’m off the hook. I also bought outfits for the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding itself. I’ll show them to you later, after you’ve settled in, because I’d love your opinions on each of them. You always look so chic, Lisa—and not in a sluttish, city kind of way, because I don’t mean that at all.”

  Did she just throw shade at me?

  I couldn’t be sure, so I just carried on.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Ms. Ward,” said a voice behind me. I turned and saw a young man standing in the doorway with my carryon and three bags sitting on a small trolley. “Do you have a car nearby?”

  “Yes, yes,” Ethel said. “Just outside, in the designated parking area. It’s the black Lincoln Navigator.” She looked at me. “I knew you’d be bringing a slew of bags with you, so I brought the beast with me. You’ll love it—it drives like a charm, although it’s so huge, I have to admit it’s sometimes difficult to see out the side mirrors, which scares the dickens out of me—and it might out of you, too! So, how about if we go? Because I have big plans for tonight, and Prairie Home awaits!”

  ***

  After my bags were packed into the back, I walked around to the passenger door, remembering with a sense of relief that the drive to Prairie Home was relatively short. Depending on traffic, the McCollisters’ home was about a thirty-minute drive away, which was perfect, because Ethel loved to talk.

  When I opened my door, I was about to step inside when I saw several books stacked on my seat, a mix of two hardcover novels and another in paperback—and in one horrific glance, I saw they were mine. They’d been placed there on purpose. I’d been meant to see them.