“Mr. Troutman.” Madison nodded politely. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’m here. That’s all I can say for it.”
Roark clenched his teeth. Troutman had already drank himself beet-red, eaten enough canapés to leave no room for dinner, and schmoozed with 80 percent of the room.
Roark prompted him for some kind of compliment. “Still, it’s a great party and tomorrow will be even better.”
Any kind of compliment.
Trout tilted his head, noncommittal. “I guess it’s okay for a backwoods feel. Oh!” He flagged down some other blowhard and turned his back on them.
Madison remained stock-still as he left, but she clung to the button on her blouse.
“Ignore him. Everyone else is having the time of their lives.”
“I wish I could ignore him. Unfortunately, my wish is that he brag about me to his inner circle, and I don’t see that happening in this lifetime.”
“The bride and groom will more than make up for it.”
“If they turn up.” She glanced around, fiddling with her button again. “I need to find them before rehearsal. See if there’s anything else they need. Oh, and don’t forget, keep everyone else in here, sipping champagne and chattering while the wedding party runs through what they need to do. I don’t want interference on the veranda. But don’t be too heavy-handed about it.”
“Madison.”
She jerked her chin toward him, worrying the inside of her lip.
“It’s all under control. We’ll keep everyone in here happy so you can run through the ceremony.”
He wanted so badly to touch her, do whatever necessary to strengthen the confidence that Troutman had chipped away. He also wanted to hold her close as they stood there, but this was work. They couldn’t be cuddled up in a corner and have anyone take them seriously.
Settling for a quick yet pointed gesture, Roark turned to stand in front of her, his back to the crowd of people as he blocked her view of the room. He grinned as her gaze flashed up, and he brushed the tips of his fingers along the line of her neck.
“You’re going to have them eating out of your hand.” He knew from personal experience.
Madison’s pulse thrummed beneath his touch and, after a slow sweep of her lashes, he peeled her fingers off the button and moved her hand down to her side.
He wished he could say he’d gotten through, that he’d convinced her, but he knew better.
“I should go find the couple.”
“Okay. But remember, you’ve got this.” Roark let go of her hand and stepped aside.
Her gaze stayed locked with his as she walked toward the outer edge of the wedding party and only at the very last minute did she look away.
* * *
At the rehearsal dinner, Madison’s tension spiraled so high that it rolled off of her and onto him, a full room-length away. Several times he’d tried to make eye contact, but she’d scurried off to take care of something else. He studied the bride and groom, remembering what Madison had said about her bad feeling.
To him, Whitney and Jack looked fine. Smiling and talking with their guests.
Then, he looked again.
They were both all smiles for others, and several times Jack would glance over for Whitney’s attention, only to be left hanging. She wouldn’t look at him, and damn if Roark didn’t know how that felt.
He eased his way around the outside of the great room and its collection of round tables and raucous conversation. The kitchen was even louder, but that’s where he found Madison, supervising the timing between appetizers and main course.
“Hey.” He nudged her elbow.
At first she didn’t hear him or was too caught up to notice.
“Hey.” He nudged again.
“What?” She turned.
“Did you talk to Whitney before this dinner?”
Madison shook her head, waving some of the waitstaff past. “Yes, but I didn’t get a solid answer. She said they didn’t need anything, but . . .”
“I see what you mean about them being off, or just different than last night.”
“And how they’ve been every time we talk or when we met weeks ago. Is it my imagination?”
“No.” Roark shrugged, because what could they do about it? More than likely this was typical bride and groom nerves. Pre-wedding jitters. Surely even rock stars got them.
“I’ll check on them again after the dinner.” Madison was tugged away by a harried-looking Wright in full king-of-the-kitchen mode.
Roark looked around the kitchen. The waitstaff moved in and out of the swinging doors, through the restaurant and into the great room, waiting on some of the most high-maintenance clients that Honeywilde had ever known, the rest of the wedding party easy to please. A crowd of total opposites.
It wasn’t as though he didn’t know how Madison managed it all. He knew, because his job was the same. But it was because he knew, that he respected her all the more.
“Roark,” Sophie hissed, suddenly at his side. “We need you in the great room, pronto.”
By the time he was done in the great room, the evening was gone. All of the partygoers retired to their rooms, the bride and groom to their suite. Roark checked in the kitchen and billiard room but couldn’t find Madison. He finally found her out front, pacing up and down the portico, arms wrapped around herself in the chilly night air.
“Where’s your coat?” He strode over, whipping off his suit jacket and holding it open for her to wear.
She made a vague gesture, but the dark blotches under her eyes said what she couldn’t.
“Why don’t you go get some rest? You had a successful night and tomorrow’s the big day.”
She kept pacing, with him right beside her, her boots clicking over the bricks. “I know. But I’m worried about the bride and groom.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Tonight was fine, but they didn’t seem . . . I expected them to be happier. And what if they aren’t happy because this isn’t the weekend they wanted? What if I’ve screwed up but they won’t tell me? What if I’ve ruined everything?”
“You haven’t ruined anything. Tonight was wonderful. If they weren’t happy, it’s got nothing to do with what you’ve done for their weekend.”
“Maybe.” Her shoulders drooped. “But I’ve been thinking—”
“It’s late and you’re exhausted.” Roark steered Madison toward one of the woven-wood benches along the front patio. “Tomorrow is a big deal, for everyone. I think you all just have nerves, but it’s all going to be—”
“Fine?” She sat down hard at the end of a bench. “That’s my line.”
“This time it’s true.” He sat as well, leaning back and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
They sat that way until he felt like he might zone right off to sleep.
Then she spoke. “Three weeks can fly by.”
“Yep.” His answer was a pop of pale breath in the night air. “The day you booked the inn seems like a long time ago. But it’s gone by too fast.”
Madison nodded, and leaned her head over to rest against his shoulder. It was nothing. A small gesture, but three weeks ago she would never have allowed the support or taken the comfort.
He nodded. “And on Sunday, you head back to Charlotte.”
She was quiet, picking at some invisible lint on her pants. He knew enough about her by now to know she didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to discuss it. But he wasn’t made that way. He had to say something.
“You know that night, at your door? The first time we kissed?”
She hummed her yes.
“Then, you said when this was all over, when we were done with business . . .” Roark shrugged with barely a lift of his shoulders, but it was enough to make her glance up.
“I remember what I said. I thought I could resist you until our work was done, but—”
“Then you didn’t have to.”
She shook her head.
&
nbsp; “But before all that, back when you suggested we wait and hang out after the wedding, were you planning on sticking around for a little while after the wedding? Coming back for a long weekend trip to the mountains?”
Madison sat back again, leaning into him so she was no longer looking at him. “I have no idea what I was planning to do. I don’t think I’d planned at all. I knew I wanted you, but I was smart enough to know we should hold off until the job was done. Turns out, I’m not that smart after all.”
“Or I was too irresistible.”
“That too.”
“But now you’re going to take off?”
That made her sit up. “I am not taking off. You make it sound like I’m Trevor. I’m not running away.”
“No one said you were. I meant, after Sunday, are you going to leave or . . .?”
She opened her mouth and then clamped it shut on whatever she was about to say. After a moment, she looked over his shoulder as if talking to the stone wall of the inn. “I-I have to go eventually. Everything I have is in Charlotte.”
“I know.”
Her gaze shot to his, irritation flashing in the brilliant green. “And you knew that when we began this.”
“I know I knew. I’m just saying . . .”
“Saying what?”
“That I’m going to miss you, dammit!”
Chapter 26
Those were not the words she wanted to hear.
Of course he’d miss her; she would miss him. That much was so painfully clear now, she wanted to scream. What she needed him to say was . . . something more than that. She wanted the impossible.
“Maybe you could visit? Or I could visit you?” He tried to catch her gaze, his offer strained, either because he was reluctant to say it or expected her to shoot him down.
Visiting meant prolonging the inevitable. The occasional visits were scraps, and they deserved more. He did anyway.
“You work all the time,” she said.
“I can take time off. It’s what, two hours to Charlotte?”
“Three.”
“Three hours. I can come to the city for a day or two.”
“So . . . visit when you have the time?” Something neither of them had. Ever. This was a ruse, a lie they were telling themselves to make it all okay. For the first time in her life, she knew a situation wasn’t going to be fine and she didn’t want to pretend otherwise.
“Yeah, that’d work.”
The pinched look in his eyes and the stiffness of his body told her it wouldn’t.
“Or . . . what if you extended your time here? Leave on Monday. Or Tuesday. When do you absolutely have to be back?”
She could extend her stay, but then she’d still have to leave. Their time together would still have an expiration date. If they arranged to keep seeing each other, that meant commitment. And what if he asked her to stay indefinitely? She had no idea how to handle an offer for more, so for her to want him to ask was selfish and crazy.
She was a cement-mixer of emotions she didn’t understand. If she couldn’t understand them, how could she expect Roark to? She didn’t know what she wanted, but she knew she needed him to take the first step. He couldn’t count on her to navigate through territory that was completely foreign.
She’d never be capable. It had to be Roark.
And that’s how she knew she was losing her mind. Complete lunacy to want him to offer himself up, when she could promise nothing in return. Even if she kept seeing him, he’d be getting a raw deal. Short term, maybe she wouldn’t ruin everything. Maybe she wouldn’t run him off. Long term?
She’d never had anything last very long.
Roark should never put himself out there like that, not for a wreck like her.
The only explanation for her wish was that she was worse than her mother, no better than her father, wanting everything to be all about her. The same as saying to hell with what Roark might want or deserve, she needed this. Him.
But she had to look beyond it. See past her own selfish need and look out for him.
A cough and a string of curses made both of them jump.
Jack stomped through the portico, toward the drive, like he was looking for someone to fight.
“Jack?” Roark got to his feet.
Jack spun around, his eyes like onyx in the moonlight. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Kind of scared us too. Everything okay?” Roark moved closer and she followed right behind him.
“Far from fucking okay. You don’t happen to have a smoke and a light on you, do you?”
Roark shot Madison a confused look. She shrugged back at him, no clue what was going on. “We don’t smoke.”
Jack scuffed his black boot along the cobbled part of the drive, looking a lot like he was considering kicking over a potted plant. “I used to, but Whitney wanted me to quit, so of course I did.” He forced out a laugh of pure bitterness.
“I can get you some cigarettes if it will help,” Madison offered, anything to bring back the contented guy from last night and get rid of the angry man who was here tonight.
“Nah.” Jack huffed out a breath, a white puff in the night air. “Won’t fix it.”
“Fix what?”
Jack finally turned to them, stuffing his hands in his worn leather jacket. “Might as well let you know so you can be off the hook, huh?”
The signs all surged toward her, like a wave bearing down, but she pushed it back. No. That couldn’t happen. Not this wedding or this couple, not to her and Roark.
“The wedding is off.” Jack cursed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Utter fucking bullshit, but it’s off.”
“What?” Roark asked, as silently the truth of what she already knew broke over her.
“I want you to know I appreciate everything you’ve both done. Last night was . . . it’s all been great.”
Screw being appreciated.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice calm while inside she stormed.
“Good damn question.” Jack flung his hands out of his jacket. “Whitney and I, we got into a stupid argument after dinner tonight. You ever get in one of those fights that you don’t even know what it’s about? She was pissed, but I was fine. Then, all of a sudden, she’s yelling and I’m defensive, and I don’t know how it got to that point. She said that was it, and there’s no way we can get married.”
“Are you sure she meant it? Maybe she’s just nervous,” Roark tried.
“Whitney doesn’t get nervous.”
Madison would bet anything Whitney wasn’t nervous, she was scared. She stepped closer. “Where is Whitney now?”
“Hell if I know. She took off. Look, it’s no good going after her. This shit has happened before. We worked it out, but fuck me if it hasn’t happened again.”
Madison looked back at Roark, then to Jack. “But we’ve seen the two of you together. It’s obvious she loves you.”
“I thought so too. I knew so. But maybe Phil was right. Working together and trying to be a couple, it’s too much. Maybe the new has worn off and she’s sick of me. You’ve seen us. We don’t exactly match.”
“That’s bullshit.” Roark stopped him. “You might be opposites, but everything was fine until today. You have to fix this.”
She and Jack jerked around to look at him.
Jack stared hard. “You don’t think I’ve tried? I’d still try, but you don’t get it, man. She’s gone. The wedding is over.”
Roark held up a hand, a clear sign he was getting ready to take over on a matter, and Madison bristled. This was her wedding and Whitney wasn’t her first running bride.
“Then I’ll go find her.” Roark pulled out his phone, firing off a text to god knew who. “I’m sure this can be fixed.”
Jack scrubbed at his face and cursed again. “You’re not going to find her. I’ve tried before and failed.” He turned and stormed back into the inn.
As soon as Jack was gone, Madison turned to glare at Roark. “You can’t go storming after Wh
itney or barking at Jack. You’re not helping matters.”
“What are you talking about? I’m being proactive.”
“But you’re doing it wrong.” This was her area of expertise. She understood wedding jitters and she knew the fear of forever better than anyone.
“At least I’m doing something.”
“Excuse me?” Madison raised her voice. Maybe it wasn’t fair of her to be angry, but she didn’t care. She had a wedding and a no-strings attached affair that were both falling apart, and right now Roark cared more about the wedding.
She pushed past him. “I don’t need you swooping in to save the day on this. Just let me handle it.”
Roark stepped right back in her way. “We have a skittish bride who’s running away from her relationship.”
“I know.”
“And you think you’re the best person to talk to her? To convince her not to go?”
She stood a little taller to look him square in the eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Whoa! I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You don’t think I’m good enough to talk to her, to fix this.” She wasn’t blinking and she stared at him so hard her face hurt. But who the hell did he think he was? This was her wedding and her bride. She wasn’t going to let him step over her.
“Madison . . .” He ran a rough hand over his hair. “You struggle to talk about your past, never mind the present. You hate commitments, so how is that going to help a reluctant bride?”
His words blew a hole through her.
“I’ve helped plenty of reluctant brides. Believe it or not, I know how to do my damn job. And I’ve told you more about me than I’ve ever told anyone. Now you throw it in my face?”
“No. That’s not . . . I know you’ve opened up to me, and you’ve got no idea what it means to me. But this has to be fixed and I’m better suited to handle it.”
“You don’t think I’m capable.” And it hurt more than she should’ve ever allowed.
“It’s not that.”
“You don’t think I can fix my own wedding. This is my wedding. My bride.”
He leaned toward her. “This is my wedding too. And it’s too damn important for me to stand aside.”
“Because of some publicity?”
A Moment of Bliss Page 24