Make Me Believe: Jilted: The Bride

by Tarina Deaton

  Camera flashes, already popping, went crazy as soon as he pulled her out. A man with a headset, microphone, and tablet gestured for them to move forward and join the line of other people arriving.

  “Jeez. This is like a ride at Disney World,” Rowan said.

  “I don’t know…I think Disney could use some pointers on efficiency. It’s like a small army running things,” Shelby said.

  Watching their awe, Luke remembered his first big event and how out of place he’d felt. This wasn’t even a big industry show—just a local fundraiser. He still felt like an imposter. Any minute now, someone would come rip off his Stetson and demand he leave.

  “Is that the governor?” Shelby asked.

  Luke looked around the couple in front of them. “I think so.”

  “How tacky would it be if I started asking for autographs?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Are you going to ask them to sign your boobs?” Rowan asked.

  Shelby grinned. “A couple of them maybe.”

  “Mr. Stone, you’re next,” one of the ushers said.

  “I’ve got them,” Marla said, joining them. “Sorry I’m late. There was an issue with Laney’s dress.”

  “Laney Faith?” Shelby asked. “I love her!”

  “Good. You’re sitting next to her at dinner. Just please don’t mention anything about how short her skirt is—she’s already self-conscience about it.”

  “Of course not,” Shelby said.

  “Rowan, Shelby, if you look at the carpet, there are tape ‘X’s. That’s where you’ll stop so the press can take pictures and ask questions.”

  Luke squeezed Rowan’s hand. “No one told me that little tidbit my first event. I just walked straight through. Never even paused except to tap a couple people on the shoulder to say excuse me.”

  Rowan grinned and laughed, which was exactly what he hoped to achieve. He didn’t want her worrying about anything.

  “All right. You’re up in thirty seconds,” Marla said. “Don’t answer any personal questions and just keep smiling.”

  Rowan’s smile slipped and Luke leaned forward to whisper, “Are you wearing any underwear? ’Cause I’m not.”

  “Go.” Marla gave him a small push on the back of his arm.

  He winked at Rowan and led them down the gauntlet.

  Of course everyone shouted questions about their relationship. He gave the answers he and Marla had discussed—basically that it was a private matter they were working on privately. Once inside, Marla peeled off to check on Laney since she was presenting, and they were led to their table.

  “Anyone want a drink?” he asked.

  “Please, god, yes,” Rowan said.

  He kissed her cheek. “I love hearing those words come out of your mouth,” he whispered.

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks took on a deep blush.

  “Shush!” She smacked his shoulder while he laughed.

  “Would you two get a room?” Shelby asked.

  “We will just as soon as this thing is over,” he said.

  “How long is this going to last?” Shelby asked.

  “It’ll be around two hours before we can gracefully exit. You’re welcome to stay if you want.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see how the night goes.”

  “Do you want wine or something stronger,” he asked Rowan.

  “Wine,” she said. “A semi-sweet white, please.”

  “Coming right up.” He kissed her gently. “Shell, you want a beer?”

  “Hell, no. I want champagne. We’re fancy tonight.”

  Luke chuckled. “Fancy it is. I’ll be right back.” Kissing Rowan again, he squeezed her and headed to the bar.

  “Hey, man. You avoiding me?’ Brett leaned against the bar. Outwardly, he looked relaxed, but Luke could see tension around his eyes and mouth.

  “Hey. Just been busy.” He didn’t want to get into it with Brett at the gala and more and more lately all they seemed to do was argue about the direction Luke wanted to take with his career.

  “With Rowan,” Brett said.

  The way he said it, the tone in his voice, made the hair on the back of Luke’s neck stand on end.

  “Yeah. And my mom and sister. You know—family.”

  “Whatever.” Brett gestured to the bartender and ordered a scotch, neat. “The label wants you back in the studio. They’re getting antsy that you haven’t signed the new contract. They’re worried someone else is trying to poach you.”

  Luke watched Brett down half his glass in one gulp. “I know. I’ve got a meeting with Walter on Monday.”

  Brett set down his glass with a thud. “What do you mean you have a meeting with Walter? Since when?”

  “Since his secretary called and asked if I was available to go over the contract. I assumed you’d set it up.” He took the stemmed glasses and long-neck the bartender gave him. “Look, I’m gonna head back to the table. If I don’t see you before the end of the night, I’ll call you on Monday.”

  Weaving through the crowd, he saw Laney had joined them at the table.

  “Ladies.” He handed Rowan and Shelby their glasses and slipped his arm around Rowan’s waist. “Laney, can I get you something?”

  “Oh, no, thank you.” She rested her hands over her stomach and laughed. “I never drink at these things—I get nervous enough as it is.”

  Rowan tilted her head up to him. “Do you still get nervous?”

  “I still get butterflies. Especially at things like this. It’s different than being on stage singing.”

  “Exactly,” Laney said. “It’s different during a concert because you’ve rehearsed so often it’s a routine, but I’ve only had one walk-through for this. Plus, the zipper on my dress broke and I had to switch to my back up and now I feel like everyone can see my panties.”

  Luke studiously looked everywhere except the hem of Laney’s dress.

  “No,” Shelby said. “It’s nowhere near that short. I think it’s perfectly fine.”

  “Really?” Laney asked. “You’re not just saying that?”

  “I promise.”

  A bell chimed and a man in a tuxedo stepped up to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll kindly take your seats dinner will be served. The presentation portion of the evening will begin between the dinner service and dessert.”

  The hall filled with the sound of rustling clothes and the clink of silverware as everyone sat down. Twenty minutes into dinner, Luke’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, checking the screen.

  He leaned across Rowan to catch Shelby and Laney’s attention. “Laney, Marla said they need you backstage.”

  She jolted in her seat. “Oh! Shoot! Do you mind walking me back there? I feel so self-conscious going by myself.”

  Luke glanced at Rowan. “Will you be okay if I walk her back?”

  Rowan grinned. “I’m a big girl. I think I’ll be okay for a few minutes.”

  “And I’m here,” Shelby chimed in. “I’ll beat up anyone that bothers her.”

  He rolled his eyes and kissed Rowan quickly. “I’ll be back soon.” He pushed away from the table and walked around Rowan and Shelby to where Laney waited nervously for him.

  He should tell her, but they’d had such a good night and if he told her she’d leave—he knew it in the bottom of his soul, with no doubt. She wouldn’t understand. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain and he couldn’t really blame her. No matter how he tried to think of a way to explain, it didn’t sound good. No one had been around when it happened and he knew Laney would never say anything. Rowan never had to know.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Rowan said.

  He reached for her hand and smiled. “Just tired.”

  Shelby’s jaw cracked as she yawned. “No kidding. You can keep being rich and famous if it’s always so exhausting.”

  “Not always. Award season is crazy, but that’s usually it.”

  “Shelby, when are you going back?” Rowan a
sked.

  “Wednesday morning. I’m going to meet up with some college friends tomorrow and Monday. You’re welcome to tag along with me if you get tired of hanging out with Luke.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually. I need to go in for a meeting on Monday,” Luke said.

  “I was going to call the clinic Monday and tell my boss I need more time off,” Rowan said.

  A wide grin took over his face and he slid his hand behind her neck. “How much time off?”

  “I thought I’d start with a month,” she said.

  “I can work with a month.” He leaned across the space between them to kiss her. Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of the wine she’d drunk at the dinner.

  She rested her hand on his cheek. “I want to give this a chance to work. That’s going to take more than a week.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “Awesome. We’re home,” Shelby said with a yawn.

  Rowan pulled away and grinned.

  “If you two are going to stay in the car and make googly eyes at each other all night, can I have the keys to the house, please?” Shelby wiggled her fingers.

  “We’re getting out,” Luke said.

  Shelby opened the door to the car he’d hired and Rowan followed her out. Luke thanked the driver and handed him a fifty-dollar bill as a tip, then climbed out after the women, taking Rowan’s hand as they walked to the door. It felt so normal—so right—coming home with her. Something he could see doing for the rest of his life.

  Once inside, he tossed his keys and caught them. “It would be useful having a table in here to put things on.”

  “Among other things,” Rowan said.

  “We can go shopping tomorrow,” he said.

  On the upstairs landing, Shelby headed to the guest bedroom Rowan was in originally. “Try to keep the crazy monkey sex noises down to a minimum.”

  Luke shook his head and steered Rowan toward his bedroom. There was enough space between the bedrooms that there was no way Shelby would be able to hear them. Just in case, he made sure to close the door tight.

  Rowan kicked off her heels and sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been weird since you came back to the table after you went backstage.”

  He stepped close and grasped her head. Time for the truth. The truth that mattered more than anything else.

  “I love you, Rowan. I’ve loved you since we were sixteen years old and you sucker punched Matt Chester after he beaned me in the head with that pitch during practice because I asked you to spring formal first.”

  She placed her hands over his. “Is that why he did it? All I knew was he’d hurt my best friend.”

  “You’re more than that. You are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. You’re the one I want to wake up next to. The one I want to have a family with. And the one who will tell me you love my music when I think it sucks. I will do anything and everything to make you believe that.”

  She was quiet for several seconds and sweat trickled down the middle of his back.

  She placed a hand over his heart, slipping under the lapel of his jacket. “I believe it.” She pushed on his chest and backed him toward the bed, a sexy smile teasing her lips.

  It might not be the three words he was hoping for, but they would do for now.

  Chapter 28

  “How extended of an absence are you talking about?” Joyce, Rowan’s boss, asked.

  “I’m not sure. At least a month.” Rowan flipped the pen in her hand end over end, tapping it on the counter.

  “Are you moving to Nashville?” Joyce asked.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure, but it’s a serious possibility.”

  “What are you sure about?”

  Wasn’t that the question. Luke said he loved her and she hadn’t said it in return. It had been on the tip of her tongue, but something had held her back. Some sense of self-preservation kept her from telling Luke she loved him. She did—to the depths of her soul—but it hadn’t felt right for her to say it in that moment. Maybe it was because she wanted to say it without being prompted.

  Maybe she didn’t know what the hell she was doing and was grasping at straws. “Honestly? Not a lot.”

  “I can’t keep your position vacant forever,” Joyce said.

  “I know.”

  Her sigh was heavy over the phone. “Two weeks. I need you to let me know one way or another in two weeks. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll take that as your resignation.”

  That would have to do. A month was a stretch anyway. “Thank you, Joyce.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope it works out for you.”

  “Me, too.”

  She ended the conversation with another promise to call in the next two weeks. If she didn’t know by then, she never would.

  Out of morbid curiosity, she opened up her Facebook app and scrolled through her timeline. Her mentions were out of control, even after locking down her profile and weeding through her friends list.

  Marla might have some tips on how to control that. Or Rowan might have to whittle her contacts down to close friends and family.

  The phone pinged and buzzed at the same time a text bubble popped up.

  Luke: Should be done by 1. Wanna meet me for lunch?

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He had tried to talk her into going with him that morning, but she’d wanted some alone time.

  The doorbell chimed as she typed her response and she sent the reply before she answered the door.

  Rowan: Waiting for the furniture, remember?

  It was a little early for the delivery truck. The store had promised between twelve and two and it was just after eleven forty-five. No delivery she’d scheduled had ever been early—even if it was the first delivery of the day.

  A weird sense of dread settled heavy in her stomach when she opened the door.

  “Brett. Luke isn’t here. He’s at the label for a meeting.”

  He slapped the folder he held against his high. “I know. I’m here to see you, actually.”

  “Why?” She didn’t care if she sounded like a bitch—Brett was not her favorite person and she wasn’t going to expend the energy faking it.

  “Can we talk inside?” He gestured behind her to the house.

  Pressing her lips into a thin line, she stepped back and opened the door. A normal person would have waited in the foyer for the host to take the lead, but not Brett. No. He walked through to the kitchen, expecting her to follow.

  “Asshole,” she mumbled as she shut the door.

  In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms while he sat at the bar, spinning the folder on the counter a few times. He tapped it, then pushed it toward her.

  “What?” She’d be damned if she made this easy for him. Whatever this was.

  “You need to take a look at what’s in there,” he said in a low voice.

  “Why?”

  He looked at her from under his brow, a sympathetic look on his face. “Because if you’re going to get involved with Luke again, I think you should go in fully informed.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “He’s not the same guy you knew in college, Rowan.”

  She glared at the folder, at Brett, and back at the folder. He made it sound like Luke had some dirty secret he was hiding.

  She should tell him to get the hell out and take whatever it was with him. Instead, she inched toward it and gingerly opened it.

  Her breath caught on a gasp.

  Five pictures, in full Technicolor detail, of Luke. Kissing Laney Faith.

  Laney’s hand gripped the back of his head and Luke’s hands rested on her hips.

  “Where did these come from?”

  “One of my friends is a photographer. We have a deal when it comes to pictures of my clients. He comes to me before releasing them when they might be…compromising.”

  She recognized Laney’s outfit—the short skirt. These
pictures were taken the night of the gala.

  Luke had been uptight and nervous after he returned to their table from backstage. Later that night, he’d told her he loved her and she’d chalked it up to that.

  “He loves you, Rowan,” Brett said. “A blind man can see that. But some men aren’t wired to be monogamous. I just wouldn’t feel right if you went into a new relationship with him thinking you were the only one.”

  Nausea rolled in her stomach and she squeezed her eyes closed. “Get out.”

  “Rowan—”

  “Get. Out,” she said through gritted teeth.

  She heard his clothes rustle. “For what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”

  The front door opened and closed a few moments later. Her lip trembled and fat, hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

  This.

  This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. Now she understood what Michael had been talking about. She couldn’t give her whole heart to Luke knowing she only had a piece of his—no matter how big of a piece it was. Coming second to his music was one thing, but she wouldn’t compete with anyone else. She wouldn’t do it six years ago when they were in college and she sure as hell wouldn’t do it now.

  Luke loved her—Brett was right about that and she knew it—but she had to be the only one in his life.

  Leaving the pictures on the counter, she pushed away and went upstairs. She couldn’t be there when he got home.

  Luke pushed through the door, juggling the bags of food. “I hope you’re good with bar-be-que,” he called out. “I tried to call but your phone was off.”

  Shelby, not Rowan, sat at the kitchen counter.

  He set the bags down and picked up the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label. It wasn’t like his sister to hit the hard stuff.

  “Kind of early for whisky, isn’t it? Something happen?”

  She took the bottle and silently poured three fingers into a glass and set it in front of him, then pushed a manila folder toward him.