Chapter 30
Rosa
I don’t know why I couldn’t simply quit Noah. It wasn’t like we were ever truly married in the first place.
Okay, yes we were married in like, the legal sense. But never in spirit. We were a business arrangement.
Until Noah changed the game on me.
He changed the rules and I wasn’t ready for it. And now I’m standing here in Tripp’s backyard beneath an old oak tree, holding a bouquet of ribbons made out of the ribbons from my bridal shower gifts I had opened up earlier this morning.
Because my mother couldn’t stomach the thought of not throwing her only daughter a bridal shower… even if we had to wedge it into the same day as our rehearsal dinner.
And even if the damn couple was already married.
And hanging on by a thread…
Or rather, by a bridal ribbon, if you will.
The late afternoon light filtered through glass wind chimes, painting colored shadows across the grass beneath our feet. Noah stood in front of me, a smile creasing his mouth while our families and friends were all gathered for this final run-through of the wedding before tomorrow.
Which felt weird. We were already married. Drunkenly. And now we were standing here pretending in front of everyone we knew that we’d been secretly in love for years. Although according to Noah, it wasn’t so much pretending. He had loved me for years. He said as much.
I took a deep breath, focusing instead on the gentle curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and how they made my heart swell. Sensing my unease, he gave my hand a little squeeze, then turned to ask our officiant a question.
So why couldn’t I unfurl the knot in my stomach?
My eyes cut across the rows of seats to find our most unexpected guest sitting in the back row, her smile as sharp as broken glass.
Morgan.
That’s why I was so uneasy.
My breath caught in my throat as I spotted her, casually sitting forward as if she belonged there, as if she'd been invited when she knew damn well she wasn’t.
She wore a light blue dress that hugged her frame, her red hair swept up in an elegant knot.
Everything about her appearance screamed Hollywood glam .
Everything about her presence screamed threat .
Based on Noah’s doe-eyed smile at me, I didn’t think he noticed her sitting back there yet.
"Rosa?" The wedding planner's voice snapped me back to attention. "Can we take it from the procession again? Just once more, with the timing of the music."
I sighed, but nodded. This wedding had turned into such a thing. What was supposed to be a small celebration to legitimize us has suddenly transformed into a spectacle, thanks in part to my parents and Kristen.
Even still, the end result was that Noah and I may just get our happily ever after.
So I pulled up my big girl panties and went back to the end of the aisle with my eyes still fixed on Morgan.
She raised her perfectly manicured hand in a little wave, smugness radiating from her like heat from asphalt in August.
Callie leaned into my ear and whispered, “What the hell is she doing here? I thought Noah told her to hit the bricks?”
“Hit the bricks?” Ronnie teases. “What are you, like eighty years old?”
Callie rolled her eyes at her big sister. “Mom told me I couldn’t swear today or tomorrow.”
“Since when do you listen to Mom?”
Lydia leaned in, smirking. “Since she threatened to put laxatives in Callie’s food tonight if she did.”
Callie sighed. “There was also mention of not allowing me to have any wedding cake tomorrow. I mean, that’s just cruel.”
“Ladies!” The wedding planner—whose name I’d already conveniently forgotten—clapped her hands together. “Can we focus please ?”
My father appeared beside me seemingly from out of nowhere just as a lilting, sentimental cover of “At Last” began.
Despite everything going on, the song choice brought a smile to my face.
Noah’s choice, actually and as I took my father’s arm, my gaze locked onto my husband as I took the slow stroll down the aisle.
I might be crazy, but it even looked like there was a slight moisture in his eyes.
Then, just as my father was handing me off to Noah, a phone rang in the back seat. Loud and blaring, playing “Baby Got Back” … Morgan .
Noah’s focus broke and he turned toward the sound, his body tensing as he spotted Morgan, who had the audacity to smile wider and wiggle her fingers at him.
His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin before his smile dropped away entirely.
His eyes darted nervously to me, then to Kristen, then back to Morgan and her powder-blue, predatory stillness in the last row.
Even from here, I felt his pulse leap with mine.
"I'm going to kick her out," Noah said, already moving. His hands had balled into fists at his sides. "Right now. This is our rehearsal, our wedding. She has no right?—"
I caught his arm. "Noah, wait?—"
But he was already striding down the aisle, purpose in every step. I hurried after him, my heart drumming against my ribs. The quiet chatter of our family and friends intensified as they noticed the tension cutting through the air.
Noah reached Morgan, his voice low but sharp enough that I could hear it as I approached.
"I thought I made myself clear yesterday… you’re not welcome here."
Morgan's smile didn't falter. "What do you mean? I was invited, Noah." She tilted her head, her eyes flicking to me. "Besides, I thought it would be nice to see your bride before the big day. Congratulate her personally."
"Congratulate her on what, exactly?" Noah's voice had dropped even lower, dangerous now.
Morgan shrugged, a delicate lift of her shoulders. "On landing you, of course. What else?"
Before Noah could respond, a hand appeared on his shoulder. Kristen, his publicist, had materialized beside us, her expression composed but her eyes wary.
"Noah," she said quietly, "let’s take a walk.”
"I'm not going anywhere until she does," Noah replied, not taking his eyes off Morgan.
"Please," Kristen insisted, her grip on his shoulder tightening. "You can’t make a scene. Not here. And kicking Morgan out will only add fuel to the rumors already swirling around about you. About both of you,” she added, her eyes cutting over to me.
"Oh, Kristen,” Morgan cooed, giving us all a saccharine smile. “It would make for such juicy headlines, though: 'Actor Noah Blue assaults ex at wedding rehearsal.' Can you imagine?"
My skin prickled with cold anger. "Is that what you want?” I asked her. “Headlines?"
Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, the only crack in her perfect facade. "What I want," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is for people to see the truth. About you. About him. About everything."
I looked at Noah, pleading with my eyes.
Please don’t let her stay . But Noah wasn’t exactly a mindreader and before I could speak up, he gave a curt nod to Kristen.
Looking at me, his eyes softened for a moment.
"She’s not wrong,” he said with a resigned sigh.
His face was composed now, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes.
"Fine,” I snapped, turning to look at Morgan. “You can stay."
Noah added, "But if you disrupt anything , if you so much as look at Rosa wrong, you're out.”
Morgan's smile was triumphant. "I wouldn't dream of disrupting your special day. I'll just sit here quietly and observe."
Noah's jaw tightened again. His eyes locked with Morgan's, and something passed between them—a silent promise that this wasn't over, that he wouldn't forget this intrusion.
"Come on," he said to me, his hand finding the small of my back. "Let's finish the rehearsal."
As we walked back to the altar, I still felt the weight of Morgan's gaze on my back. Though Noah's hand was warm and solid against my spine, it couldn't dispel the chill that had settled into my bones—the certainty that this was only the beginning of whatever Morgan had planned.
The rehearsal dinner was held at Grieco's, a restaurant with walls the color of aged parchment and lighting dim enough to flatter even the most unforgiving complexions.
Crystal glasses caught and scattered the light from overhead chandeliers, turning water into diamonds, wine into liquid rubies.
Everything gleamed with perfection—the silver, the china, the faces of our wedding party.
Everything except my damn smile, which felt stretched across my face like a rubber band ready to snap.
We had made it through the rest of the rehearsal without incident, but the dinner felt like another gauntlet to run.
Morgan had positioned herself at a table with some of their costars—people who didn't know better, who smiled and laughed with her as if she belonged.
As if she hadn't inserted herself into this celebration like a splinter under the skin.
"You're not eating," Noah murmured, his lips close to my ear. His hand rested on the back of my chair, a warm, steady presence that had been there all evening, as if he were physically tethering me to the ground.
I looked down at my plate, where the salmon was growing cold, pushed around but barely touched. "I guess I'm not hungry."
"We could leave early," he suggested, his thumb finding my shoulder and moving in small, comforting circles over my skin. "No one would blame us."
But they would. They would wonder. And Morgan would win if she forced us out of our own rehearsal dinner early.
"No," I said, forcing another forkful past my lips. It tasted like nothing. I could have been eating dang sawdust for all I knew. "We should stay. This is our night. I’m not going to be forced out by her."
Noah's smile was small but fierce with pride. "That's my girl."
For the rest of the night, we went through the motions—accepting congratulations, thanking everyone for their participation when it was so last minute, laughing at the appropriate moments during Noah’s mom’s speech.
All the while, I was acutely aware of Morgan's eyes on us, tracking our movements from across the room like a predator noting the patterns of prey.
"Noah!" Steve called, “come here! Cam and I have a question for ya!”
With a groan, Noah hesitated. “Do I have to?”
“They’re your brothers, of course you have to.
” After he groaned, I snickered and gave him a little push.
He’d been by my side, doting since the moment Morgan showed her face.
He deserved to have a little guy time with his brothers.
“Go on. They probably want to do that brother shot they’ve been talking about all day. ”
Noah searched my face for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be right back," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before crossing to where his brothers had gathered.
"Have you seen his temper yet??" I didn't need to turn to know who had slid into the empty seat beside me.
Morgan's perfume—something expensive and floral—announced her before her words did. "It’s intense. He’s so quick to react.
Quick to anger. Quick to fall in love. So.
.. passionate ." Pausing, she leaned in, adding, “But that’s also what makes him so good in bed, huh?”
I swallowed, my throat feeling sandy and dry. "What are you doing here, Morgan?"
"I told you. Congratulating the bride." Morgan smoothed her dress over her thighs. "Though I'm surprised the wedding is even still on , given everything."
"There is no 'everything,'" I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Whatever you think you're doing, it won't work. Besides, whether or not there’s a party tomorrow, we’re already married. You’re too late.”
Morgan's laugh was light, musical, and utterly fake. "Oh, Rosa. My plan will work. It's already working.”
Before I could respond, a waiter appeared at my elbow, setting down a delicate dessert plate with chocolate mousse topped with gold leaf.
Beside me, Morgan picked up her spoon, toying with it. Her nails, painted a deep, blood red, tapped against the silver. Her smile was pleasant enough to fool anyone watching from a distance, but up close, it didn't reach her eyes.
"This is a lovely dinner,” she said lightly. "The attention to detail is impressive. Though I suppose that's your forte, isn't it? The little details about people? What makes them tick?"
"I'm a psychologist, not a mind reader," I said.
“I hear you've been very successful lately," Morgan continued as the waiter moved on. "Your practice is growing. Lots of new clients. Important ones."
My hand tightened around my water glass. In the course of one week, I had signed eight new clients, not including Lilly and Jason. "My practice is none of your business."
"But it is Noah's business, isn't it? Or rather, his name is your business." Morgan dipped her spoon into the mousse. "It must be nice, having access to all those connections. All those potential clients just dying to sit on your couch and spill their secrets to Noah's trustworthy wife."
The accusation landed like a slap. "That's not?—"
"It's fine, really," Morgan cut me off, licking chocolate from her spoon with deliberate slowness.
"We all use what we have. You have Noah's name.
I have... other assets." She smiled, and this time there was nothing pleasant about it.
"I have a special wedding present for you," she said, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "It should be arriving any minute now."
A cold wash of dread slid down my spine. "I don't want anything from you."
"Oh, I insist," Morgan said. "After all, what's a wedding without a few surprises? And this one…" She leaned closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "This one is going to be memorable."