Chapter 29
twenty-nine
WEST
I check my watch and try not to let out an annoyed sigh. How long can it take an intern to get ready?
I’m itching to get out of this room, to stride over to where Eden is, to see her in that dress that felt like nothing between my fingers when I touched it on the hanger.
Instead, I’m stuck here waiting for Bennett to emerge, because I know Eden will be pissed if I leave without him. It’s like having all the responsibility of being a parent without any of the pleasure of making him.
“Oh hey,” Bennett says, when he finally walks out of the dressing area. He beams at me, like he’s grateful I waited.
I hate being responsible for him. And yet... somehow I am.
“What are you wearing?” I ask him, my eyes narrowing.
“A… suit?”
“On your feet,” I mutter, eyeing the bashed-up sneakers.
“I dunno. It’s Hollywood, right? I want to look cool.”
“It’s the Hamptons,” I point out. “Not a frat party. Do you have another pair of shoes?”
He wrinkles his nose. “Yes,” he says, but I can tell he’s pissed.
“Put them on.”
He rolls his eyes like a teenager, but at least he does as he’s told. He’s back within a minute, and we stride out of the room, heading toward the women’s side of the dressing suites, because dammit, I’ve waited long enough.
“West.”
The voice stops me cold. It’s smooth as silk. I turn slowly, and there she is. Leaning against the gilded doorway like she owns the place. Of course she’s here. Because the universe couldn’t let me have one perfect moment without testing me first.
“Selena.” My voice has no emotion.
Bennett looks at her with wide eyes, letting out a low whistle.
“How are you?” she asks me, glancing at my left hand. Her eyes catch the band of gold there, and a small, knowing smile curves her lips. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
“I met your wife,” she says. “She’s beautiful.” She lifts her brows, her eyes dead on mine. “And very young.”
The words dig under my skin. “I’m a lucky man,” I say mildly. “Now excuse me, I need to find her.”
I see the shadow of hurt in the way she looks at me. It’s barely perceptible, but still there. I push the guilt away and walk past her, Bennett close behind me.
“Who was that?” he asks.
“Nobody.” The lie burns, but I don’t slow down. Whoever she used to be, she’s nothing compared to the woman I’m married to.
Bennett jogs to keep up. “Uncle Vin said there’d be a lot of hotties here, but damn. If they all look like her, I’m screwed.”
I stop dead, turning to stare at him. “Vin knows you’re here?”
“He called yesterday. Said he was on the East Coast or something. I don’t know.” Bennett shrugs.
A cold weight settles in my stomach. Of course Vin wouldn’t lie low. He’s like a shadow I can’t shake. But Eden is waiting. And she’s the only one I’m concerned about right now.
“Holy shit,” Bennett says. I look to my right, and see my wife walking out of the ladies’ area like she owns the place, and any coherent thought I might have goes right out of my head.
“Go find the bar,” I say to Bennett. “Talk to people. Have a good time.”
Thankfully, he gets the hint. When I tell my wife how beautiful she looks, I don’t need him to be here. In fact, right now I’m seriously considering scooping her into my arms and taking her back to our hotel.
Her blue dress shimmers beneath the glow of the chandeliers.
The silk skims her perfect curves, making her look more like a movie star than any woman in here.
Her hair is pinned up, revealing the perfect curve of her neck and her creamy shoulders.
My breath catches as I take in the beauty of her face.
The way she looks at me.
Like I’m worthy of her, not the idiot who fell for my own wife.
“Hi,” she breathes, as I reach for her hand, pulling her toward me. “By the way, looking that good in a tux isn’t playing fair.”
I try to remember how to speak, as I cup her face, revelling in her softness, her warmth. “I don’t deserve a wife this beautiful,” I tell her, finally finding the words. “You take my breath away.”
“Didn’t think I’d scrub up, did you?” Her eyes dance as she says it.
“Didn’t think you’d want to. And don’t get me wrong, I like you just as much in cut offs and a tank.”
“Easier access,” she agrees. “It’ll take you an hour to get this dress off me. And the lingerie underneath.”
“I look forward to every minute.” I smile softly at her. “Ready to make your Hollywood debut?” I ask her, squeezing her palm.
“We’re in the Hamptons.”
“Same thing.” Except where beaten up sneakers are concerned. Thankfully Bennett is out of earshot.
She wrinkles her nose. “I’m not even close to ready,” she tells me. “But let’s get this over with and then you can play dress up with me.”
It’ll be more like dress off, but whatever. “Okay, Mrs. Abbott,” I murmur. “Let’s take you into the vipers’ den.”
EDEN
As soon as we step into the ballroom – because apparently it’s completely normal for a house in the Hamptons to have a room dedicated to hosting hundreds of people in their holiday home – the atmosphere changes.
Everything in here feels drenched in sophistication and money.
Crystal chandeliers glitter above us, their prisms scattering the room in gold.
Waiters weave through the crowd carrying trays of champagne flutes, the glass catching and throwing sparks with every step.
And string music hums low beneath the swell of voices like the soundtrack of a world I don’t belong in.
West’s palm is warm and steady against the small of my back, his thumb stroking slow circles against the silk of my dress.
He steers me through the crowd with unhurried confidence, heads turning as he does. Nobody doubts that West Abbott belongs here.
“Champagne?” a waiter asks. West takes a glass and hands it to me, then grabs a flute of orange juice for himself.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his hand still firm against the small of my back. He guides me through the swell of silk gowns and black tuxedos until we reach a couple standing near the dais at the far end of the room. They’re magnetic, even from a distance – everybody is looking at them.
The man is tall and silver-haired, with the kind of expensive tan that screams tropical islands. The woman on his arm wears emerald satin that drapes across her body like liquid light. Her diamonds catch the chandelier glow and throw it back into the room as if she owns it.
“Eden,” West says softly in my ear, “this is Harold and Victoria Markham. He produced three of last year’s biggest films. She runs half of Broadway.”
They turn toward us and Victoria’s eyes sweep over me with practiced grace. “And who is this vision?” she asks.
West squeezes my hip, pulling me infinitesimally closer. “This is Eden. My wife.”
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that.
“You’re a dark horse,” Victoria says. “We had bets that you’d be a bachelor longer than Clooney.” She glances over his shoulder, like she’s searching for drama. “Does Selena know?”
It’s weird, but I don’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she’s looking for. The tall blonde in the dressing room. The certainty pulls at my stomach. As though he can read my mind, West curls his arm tighter around me.
“No idea,” he says, like he honestly couldn’t give a damn. “Eden, you should talk to Victoria and Harold about charitable donations some time,” he says to me. “Eden is saving the world, one gray water system at a time.”
“Ooh, you’re a conservationist.” She grins at me. “I should introduce you to Mark Ruffalo later. He’s big into saving the world.”
“The Hulk?” I question. God, this is weird, all these names I’ve only ever seen on a movie theater screen all in the same place. A second ago I swear I saw Emily Blunt and John Krasinski by the bar.
“First, I’d like to dance with my wife.” West takes my champagne glass and puts it on a table.
“Wait,” Victoria grabs my hand. “Let’s talk later. When West isn’t here.”
Shaking his head, West leads me away. “You’re not talking to Mark Ruffalo,” he whispers in my ear. God, he sounds grumpy at the thought.
I love it.
“Do you really know all these people?” I ask him, as we pass somebody who looks very much like Robert DeNiro. He pats West’s shoulder in easy recognition, like they’ve known each other for years.
“Most of them. And they’re not as glamorous as you think.”
The string quartet moves onto another piece, and I realize that people are dancing. West inclines his eyes at me.
Do I want to dance with the most handsome man in the room? Hell yes. I take his hand.
“Is this Star Wars they’re playing?” I ask as he leads me onto the dance floor.
“No, it’s Superman,” West tells me.
“The Henry Cavill one or the Ben Affleck one?” I ask him.
He groans. “The Christopher Reeve one. Christ you make me feel old.”
“That’s because you are old.”
His brow lifts, his mouth curving dangerously. “Remind me why I married you again?”
“Because I have a kink for geriatrics.”
He lets out a low laugh, pulling me closer until my chest brushes his. The heat of his hand on my back makes me melt into him. I love how safe he makes me feel. How desired.
When I look up, he’s staring down at me, his eyes dark. Full of need.
His mouth claims mine, slow but firm, and the whole glittering ballroom blurs around us. The strings swell, people laugh, but all I can feel is him. His lips, warm and demanding. His hand at my spine, anchoring me against his hard body. His tongue brushing mine, coaxing me to give him more.
Heat curls low in my stomach, my knees softening until I’m half leaning into him, half floating.
When he finally breaks away, my breath is ragged, my lips tingling. “West…”
But then I see her.
Across the dance floor, leaning casually against the edge of the bar, champagne flute in hand. Pale champagne gown, sleek twist of blonde hair, eyes locked on us with cool, unblinking interest. Selena.
My stomach twists. She doesn’t look angry. Or hurt. She looks entertained.
And for one dizzying second, I wonder. Did he know she was watching? Was this for her?
West follows my gaze, his jaw tightening when he spots her. Then his hand presses harder into the small of my back, forcing my attention to his dark eyes.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs, low and rough, a command more than a request.
And even though my pulse is racing, I let him draw me back in. He kisses me again. Softer, reassuring.
And I let myself believe that tonight is about us, nothing else.