Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
HAILEY’S DAILY RULE FOR SUCCESS:
When life throws an unexpected curveball, catch it and learn to play the game.
I feel the warmth of early morning sunlight on my cheeks as it streams in through open blinds. Its effects are slightly blinding as my eyes flutter open.
Sunlight? Did I forget to shut the blackout blinds last night?
Instantly, I’m wide awake. My eyes fly open as I sit up and take in my surroundings.
It wasn’t a dream. I’m naked. In Warren Mitchell’s bed.
I pull the sheets—not football-themed, and actually soft as silk four hundred thread count—up around myself as I scan the room.
Clothes are strewn on the floor. Warren’s and mine. Tangled in a heap of abandon. Much like our actions the night before.
The clock on the bedside table reads: 9:45 a.m. Shit, I missed posting my Monday motivational message to my followers.
I reluctantly turn...
Warren sleeps soundly, one arm draped across his exposed stomach, the other raised above his head on the pillow. Bedsheets are low on his torso, revealing the incredible six-pack and obliques I familiarized myself with intimately the night before. One leg drapes over the side of the bed and his face is pure peaceful slumber.
As if having a woman stay the night is not an issue for him. A common occurrence. It probably is and I can’t define my feelings in this moment, but they’re a combination of panic and slight disappointment in myself that I slipped into this forbidden territory.
Warren is Liam’s best friend. Reason number one why this shouldn’t have happened.
I’m trying to sabotage his best friend’s wedding. Reason number two.
And now that I’ve opened myself to Warren, as much as I can at least, I may never recover. Reason number three—the one that has my heart racing the most.
My phone chimes and I roll over to look for it. It’s not there.
Right. Not my bedside table. Not my bedroom.
Pulling the sheet with me, I get up slowly and quietly. I don’t want to wake him. Maybe I can slip out without him noticing and then avoid him for the rest of my life.
My phone chimes again.
“Shh...” I say as I reach for my jeans on the floor and take my cell phone out of the pocket. The battery is low as I read the string of texts from Sonia:
West Coast Luxury just announced three new resorts in California in the next eighteen months!
So?
Which means we’re bumping up our own construction schedule!
Poor Liam...
So, change of plans...
She’s typing...
Wedding is this weekend!
What the actual fuck?
In the bed, Warren stirs. He rolls to his side and opens one eye, as though he’s afraid to look. He sees me and his expression is conflicted. I mean, I’m feeling the same way, but seeing it on his face makes my gut twist and my heart sink.
Maybe if he’d awoken with a look of bliss and no regrets, I’d feel better.
But there’s no time to focus on this now. We have a disaster.
“This isn’t good,” I say, pacing the room.
Warren gets up, completely naked—sexy abs and other...things on display. I eye him with an overwhelming lust. The sex had been incredible. Maybe we could have another go, since we’ve already fucked things up anyway...
Focus on the disaster, Hailey!
I avert my eyes as Warren opens a dresser drawer and reaches for underwear. “You weren’t complaining last night,” he grumbles.
“Not us, you idiot. I mean, that’s probably not great either...but this!” I show him the text from Sonia and his face takes on a suitable look of panic.
“This weekend? How the hell are they planning to pull that off?”
His cell phone chimes with a text—the sound coming from somewhere in the pile of sex blankets. He searches for it, finds it, and I read over his shoulder a text from Liam.
Best man duties start now.
Both of our phones chime simultaneously.
“A ping location for a tuxedo rental shop,” Warren says, sounding about as thrilled as someone who’s been promised a root canal.
My message is a ping location to a bridal shop with a caption from Sonia that reads:
Meet you there in an hour.
Great, looks like they’re calling in the troops—us—to pull a wedding off in a week. Less than a week.
Clutching the bedsheet to my body, I search the room for my clothes. Jeans, sweater, bra... I look around.
Warren reaches under the bed and finds my thong. He holds it up with a sheepish look. “Looking for this?”
I snatch it from him and put it on quickly. I turn away and let the blanket drop as I continue getting dressed. I can feel his gaze on me as I hear him putting on his own clothes.
Should I say something? What? Last night was fun? Last night was the best night of my life? Last night can’t happen again?
He clears his throat and I turn slowly in anticipation.
Which of the three will he choose?
Our gazes lock and hold.
“Last night was...”
My breath sucks in, in the long silence that follows. He waits as though he wants me to finish the sentence.
I can’t. I won’t.
“We should go,” I say instead, breaking our gaze.
“Yeah,” he says sounding relieved.
And I guess I know which way that sentence would have ended.
Inside a posh, lavish wedding shop on Rodeo Drive an hour later, I comb through a rack of dresses as I sip champagne. It’s the first thing I’ve consumed today, so it’s making me light-headed and slightly enamored by the wedding attire. After the breakup with Liam I never really gave much thought to marriage. If I hadn’t been able to be completely vulnerable with Liam—the one person I’d gone ninety-nine percent of the way with—it was obvious I’d never be able to go all in. So, I put everything into my career, planning to find fulfillment there.
And I certainly never thought much about weddings, but surrounded by all the tulle and lace and intricate beadwork, my mind floods with surrealist fantasies I don’t usually entertain.
Sonia is in the dressing room with a dozen different gowns. I can hear her struggling with the fabric and then a series of “no,” “nope,” “no fucking way” as she gets increasingly annoyed with the choices.
Buying off rack wasn’t in her plans. A famous fashion designer in Paris was creating a one-of-a-kind gown for her, but there’s no time for that now.
I sip my champagne in front of a three-way mirror and notice I’m a hot mess. More mess than hot. Being summoned across town means I haven’t been home yet. Dressed in yesterday’s clothes and unshowered after my night with Warren, my hair is slightly wavy from sweat and there are traces of mascara under my eyes. I quickly wipe them away and run my hands through my hair, then secure it into a high messy bun with the hair elastic I keep on hand for emergencies.
Thank God Sonia’s been too obsessed with this dress-finding mission to notice my disheveled appearance because I have “one-night stand” written all over me.
I sniff my arm and sure enough, the scent of Warren’s cologne lingers on my flesh. I breathe it in again and memories of our night of impulsive passion flood my mind.
It had been unexpected...or rather overdue, but still wrong. His reaction this morning hadn’t given me any reason to believe otherwise. Which was good. If he actually wanted more from this thing between us, it would be harder for me to resist. Which I have to. However disappointing.
Sonia finally exits the dressing room, wearing a breathtaking simple silk A-line gown that hugs her figure perfectly. She looks incredible and someday when she’s about to marry the right man, I hope she gets a chance to wear a dress this perfect.
But right now, I need to focus on making sure that day isn’t this Saturday.
“You look beautiful,” I say honestly. I need to ease into this conversation.
“It’s not too much? I mean, we’re only having a small wedding now,” she says with deep disappointment in her tone as she studies herself critically in the mirror.
I see my in and I take it. “Are you sure you want to do that? Why not wait a while so you can have the wedding of your dreams?”
Sonia seems to think about it as she stares at her reflection.
Maybe this will be easier than I thought.
But I’m not that lucky. “No, I want to do this now. The resort construction schedule is going to be nonstop this fall into early winter and possibly into next year.”
They’re determined to go through with this rushed wedding based on the Banks Resort build schedule. That, in itself, should be a big red flag.
“This dress is gorgeous and you look stunning. I just want to make sure you don’t regret not getting to wear that Pierre Cargot design you had your heart set on.” Appealing to her desire to impress is the only ammunition I have right now.
She pouts. “That’s the biggest disappointment in all of this, but I have him designing a beautiful gown for the first resort grand opening instead.”
“Perfect. Problem solved,” I say and drown the contents of my champagne glass.
Her face suddenly lights up and she swings around to face me. “Hey! I forgot to tell you—I landed a role in a thriller! It’s just a small part, but it’s a start.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that Sonia is more excited about the role than her upcoming wedding.
But this is the aspect of her life that I can be genuinely excited about, and I don’t want to be a downer in this big moment. “That’s fantastic!” I say.
“Because of you. Thank you for everything—sincerely.”
I nod and hesitate, but she’s cued up the perfect opportunity. “What did Liam say?”
Sonia avoids my eyes in the mirror as she smooths the fabric of the dress over her hips. “I still haven’t told him. I will,” she says quickly. “After the wedding. We just have so much going on right now.”
Excuses.
Sonia knows Liam won’t be happy about the life, career, and future she’s trying to build in California when he hopes to move back to New York eventually. I want to point out that starting their marriage with a secret like this will set the wrong tone for their future, but I need to approach this carefully. I simply nod, smile supportively, then sip the champagne.
Liam needs to find out soon. The clock is ticking.
“Okay. I think this is the one,” Sonia says. “Your turn.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“Your maid of honor dress,” she says, climbing down from the platform in front of the three-way mirror and heading toward a rack of dresses.
I follow her. “We’re still doing that?”
She sends me a look. “Of course. The plans for our wedding party are the same. I’ve told my cousins to stop by for their fittings this week. I picked a simple, classic, short—” she lowers her voice “—kinda ugly design that won’t show me up.”
“Wonderful,” I mutter.
“Oh, but not for you! I want you to choose whatever you like. My treat,” she says as she continues to peruse the selection.
That’s nice of her, but I feel even more guilty letting her pay for a dress I’m hoping to not wear.
“This one is perfect!” she says, taking one from the rack a moment later and holding it out for me to see.
It is perfect. We’ve only known one another a short time, but Sonia has nailed it. The pale blue, sweetheart neckline, tank-style, floor-length dress she’s holding is exactly my style...
“Try it on,” she says, not waiting for a reply as she practically forces me into a change room with the dress and shuts the door.
With no other choice, I try it on and the thing looks even better than it did on the hanger. It fits perfectly and accents all my best features. Wedding attire is magical—it makes everyone look and feel like a princess.
But in this scenario, I’m the wicked queen...
I stare at my reflection—the breathtaking gown and the otherwise sexed-up appearance. I touch the soft, delicate fabric and smooth it over my hips.
What would Warren think if he saw me in this?
No.
The wedding can’t happen, even if I desperately want to wear this dress to tempt Warren Mitchell into another ill-timed, impulsive, second-night stand.
Inside a formal wear shop, a sales rep fits Liam and me for our tuxedos as we stand on platforms in front of mirrors. Finding a jacket that fit me was a bit of a challenge, so I look ridiculous in the tight forty-six tall coat. The guy tries to tell me it’s the style to wear a suit this tight these days.
Maybe for hip, stylish, twenty-year-olds, but I know he’s got nothing else in stock.
Liam’s cell chimes constantly with texts and emails as another rep tries to mark his pants for hemming.
He looks stressed, tired, and more than a little preoccupied. Which is why I’m not going to bring up my hookup with Hailey. He doesn’t need that right now and it’s not like it’s ever going to happen again. Best to keep it to myself...at least until after the wedding.
Though this wedding is obviously the least of his worries, so why is he feeling this pressure to rush it?
I’m reluctantly starting to agree with Hailey, which is something I’d never in a million years dreamed of happening. And it’s not because of the sex last night or my growing attraction to her.
I see now that she has a point. Sonia and Liam are good together, but are they the best option for one another? How could they know after only six months? I like Sonia a lot, but I feel like my best friend may be getting bullied into this marriage...among other things.
Liam types furiously on his cell phone as he yawns. He sways slightly off balance and the poor tailor is forced to steady him. “Sorry,” Liam says to the guy, shaking off his exhaustion.
“This new timeline is putting the pressure on, huh?” I ask.
“I haven’t slept more than a few hours in three weeks.”
“Why not wait on the wedding then?” I don’t understand the mad rush. They’re together anyway. What will rings and a marriage certificate change?
“I suggested that, but Sonia wants to do this now.”
“What do you want?” Doubt anyone’s asked him that. Does Sonia know the immense pressure she’s putting on him? Does she care? Suddenly, I’m envisioning a life of stress and one-sided compromises for my buddy.
“Does it matter? Happy wife, happy life, right?” Liam says with a wry laugh.
“I don’t know about that.” My mother had every reason to be happy—money, prestige, etcetera. But she still found a way to drive my father up the wall. Not that he was a saint either.
“I just need to get these resorts underway... Once the actual construction begins, then we can re-evaluate things.”
“Go back to New York?” I’d hate to see him go, but I can tell it’s where he wants to be. Hailey was right when she said California was not his dream.
Man, I keep saying that phrase far too much. Maybe seeing her naked and holding her while she slept really has impacted how I feel about all of this, but I don’t think so. More likely, I was team Sonia in the beginning to irritate Hailey.
Liam shrugs. “Maybe,” he says, but it’s much more hopeful sounding than the one word implies.
“Does Sonia know about this re-evaluating?” I ask and study his expression in the mirror.
“Yeah.” He pauses. “I mean, we discussed it,” Liam says, but he avoids my gaze.
Which means Liam voiced his wishes and Sonia continues to ignore them. If my friend goes ahead with this wedding, his days in New York are over. His days of following his own passion and life goals are in his rearview. The Bankses will continue to expand and make plans they’ll expect him to carry through—family commitment and all that.
Unfortunately, I have to say it again, Hailey’s right. This wedding is a mistake.