Epilogue
Ana pressed a hand to her stomach in a futile effort to combat the nerves threatening to take her down for the count. She could only imagine how Quinley felt at the moment, and one peek at the massive number of people mingling in the hotel lobby on their way to the spectacular terrace for the wedding left Ana feeling all the nerves.
Her best friend was holed up in a penthouse suite prepping for the big day, and Quinley had tasked Ana to run an errand. Thankfully Cole was nearby since his brother Elias was driving the limo today while Gage held down the rental business. When she’d texted Cole about the request, he’d offered to meet her in the lobby and accompany her.
“Hey, baby girl.”
She turned at the sound of Cole’s deep voice, a thrill sliding through her when she took in his tall, dark, and tuxedoed form.
They’d celebrated Christmas together. And despite the fact they’d only been seeing each other a few months, come New Year’s Eve, Cole had given her a gorgeous emerald engagement ring surrounded by diamonds. She didn’t even mind that they moved so fast because this time around, things felt right, like the natural, easy slide of a puzzle piece fitting into place with a perfect snap.
“You look beautiful.”
Cole bent and kissed her, careful of her lipstick, but she fisted his lapel and tugged herself up to her tiptoes for a longer, harder kiss. One he returned with a smile on his too-tempting lips.
She couldn’t help it. Cole was special. And hers. He grounded her when she got a little manic, held her when life seemed scary and made her feel safe. Who could fault her for wanting more? They were both strong-willed and used to getting their own way, but she’d never felt happier or more loved or content. He both excited her and gave her peace and that was a heady combo.
When she ended the kiss and lowered herself, his big hand collared her neck, his thumb lightly rubbing over her pulse.
“Nervous?”
“This is insane. Guests started arriving two hours early to get seated outside like it’s a concert and,” she lowered her voice, “I swear I think I saw Oliver Beck. Like, just walking around.”
Cole chuckled at the mention of the well-known actor. “He’s here. I’ve seen him as well.”
“And while I waited for you just now, Sasha texted me to say his wife was in the boutique earlier and told Sasha she would like to send clients there to be dressed for their dates. She’s a professional matchmaker witha huge following, and she’s going to dress them in my clothes.”
Cole’s eyes reflected his amusement as he smiled down at her.
“Well, hopefully that means you’ll have less for me to take off you when the time comes then.”
His teasing brought a heated flush to her cheeks, but she couldn’t help her excitement. She knew a lot of success stories that had come from influencers who’d taken a liking to something and made it go viral as a result. If Marsali Jones-Beck liked her boutique and put the word out, who knew where that could lead?
“So what’s this errand Quinley wants you to do?”
Ana frowned because Quinley’s request was a strange one. “She’s addicted to this off-brand drink and insists I go get her some. Would you mind driving me?”
“It’s that far away?” Cole asked as he glanced at his watch. “The music has already started.”
“I know,” she said. “But Quinley insists she has to have some. She says it’s the only thing that’ll settle her stomach. They have it at the gas station near the marina.”
“You’re making me drive you to the competition?” Cole questioned in a teasing tone.
“It’s that, or you answer to Quinley.”
“Competition it is,” he said quickly. “Everyone knows not to mess with a bridezilla on her wedding day.”
Thankful she’d already put on her black maid of honor dress and was ready to walk the aisle, Ana hurried along beside Cole. He’d parked himself so they skipped the valet, and Ana fought back nerves as Cole raced to the gas station.
As soon as she got back, she needed to do a last minute check on her hair and makeup and get Quinley downstairs. She’d tried to volunteer Cole for drink-duty, but Quinley insisted Ana go because Cole or anyone else would get the wrong kind.
Ana ran into the gas station, bought three bottles of soda, and ran back out to where Cole waited in the car.
“What’s wrong?” he asked the moment she climbed in.
“I don’t know. Just hurry. Let’s get back to the hotel.”
“Is something wrong?” Cole got them moving and slid her a questioning glance across the interior.
“I just… I have a bad feeling.” Because why was Quinley so insistent that she had to go get the drink? Why hadn’t Quinley carried the drink with her like she always did whenever she worked or traveled?
“You think something is wrong?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at Cole, loving every inch of his strong profile. “Can we elope? For our second chance wedding? Not do all the crazy?”
Cole’s grin creased the wrinkles around his eyes, and her heart tripped because he was so dang sexy.
“We can do whatever you want. Tell me where to be, baby girl. I’ll be there with bells on.”
They hadn’t discussed wedding details since they’d only just gotten engaged, but she knew for certain she didn’t want the formality of a big wedding. She just wanted Cole and Ben and her parents and Quinley. Cole’s family. The people she loved and who loved her, flaws and all.
Cole drove back to the hotel and left the vehicle with the valet to save time. He hurried around the front to take her hand as they made their way back inside.
“Want me to go up with you?”
“Would you?” She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she knew—she knew—something was off. She felt it like the way the air felt before a hurricane rolled in.
As they made their way through the lobby, Ana spotted Quinley’s junior attendants, Rhys’s younger nieces and Quinley’s sisters, standing inside the ballroom where the reception would be held, looking out the windows at the guests on the terrace.
Clear wind breakers protected them from the cool breeze and allowed the group to enjoy the bright, sunny day.
“Where’s Quinley?” she asked the girls, looking around to see where Quinley might be hiding out of sight.
“She sent us all down,” the older girl said. “She said she needed some quiet time without us hovering.”
Ana glanced at Cole and then hurried off to the elevator bank.
“You’re really worried,” Cole said when he caught up with her. “Come here.”
She leaned against him and let him hug her close, taking comfort from the man she loved.
The elevator doors opened, and they stepped on, Cole taking the bag of drinks from her and keeping an arm around her to tuck her against his side.
When they arrived on the penthouse floor, Cole took her hand and held it as they hurried down the hallway toward the luxurious suite and the two bodyguards stationed outside.
Ana greeted them with a smile and quickly knocked on the door as she and Cole entered.
“Quinnie, it’s me. I got the soda. Are you decent? Cole’s with me,” she said loudly as she walked deeper into the space, just in case Quinley was doing the bride straddle for a last-minute potty break. “Quinley?”
Ana hurried into the bedroom and then the bathroom, but they were both empty. When she reentered the living area, she saw Cole looking down at a sheet of paper atop the dining table. Something sparkled on top of it.
Cole glanced up when he heard her, his expression grim.
“She left you a note.”
Ana’s stomach sank as she walked toward him because Cole’s expression said what her heart already knew.
As soon as she was close enough to touch, Cole hugged her to his side and kissed the top of her elaborately coiffed head.
Ana, I’m owning my choice. Please give this back to Lachlan and tell him I’m sorry.
-Q
Dear Readers, I do so love a runaway bride story, don’t you? Get the next book in the BLACKWELL brOTHERS series by preordering THE GETAWAY GUY, either on my store or wherever books are sold. (Hint: It releases sooner on my store.)
If you’d like to read more about Analise and Cole click on this link for an EXCLUSIVE bonus scene.
If you’ve fallen in love with Carolina Cove the way I have, check out the other series set in my fictional coastal town, all which are available now. Here’s a teaser from THE MATCHMAKER’S SECRET featuring Marsali Jones and Oliver Beck!
EXCERPT THE MATCHMAKER’S SECRET:
Marsali Jones looked in the mirror and gave herself an affirming nod. The outfit she”d chosen screamed business, and so long as she didn”t look at her debit account, she wouldn”t scream at what she”d paid for it out of her carefully planned monthly budget. Coming across as a professional was a need, not a want. Right?
The low heels, brown slacks, and rose-gold top paired exceedingly well with the Chanel jacket she”d purchased secondhand off of a resale site, and perfected the image she”d worked to achieve over the last eight years. And now that her career was finally—finally!—taking off, well, a little splurge was okay.
”Are you ready, Ms. Jones?”
Marsali nodded and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror before following the headset-wearing associate from the green room to the wings of the nationally televised studio. Her nerves kicked up multiple levels and she inhaled, then counted slowly as she exhaled.
She”d had her doubts about appearing on this particular show because of the host”s penchant for drama, but free publicity was free publicity, and she couldn”t afford to pay for the exposure this interview would bring. So long as she stayed calm, cool, and collected, nothing could go wrong. Right?
”And now our special guest will give us all the insight we need to date in the twenty-first century,” the host said, smiling into the camera. ”Please welcome professional matchmaker and author of the bestselling Good Girl”s Guide to Dating, Marsali Jones!”
Marsali”s pulse raced as she crossed the shiny floor, praying all the while she didn”t slip in the heels and go tumbling down like a drunken spring-breaker. She shook hands with the host she”d met backstage before the show had begun taping and waved to the audience before taking her appointed seat.
”Wow. Marsali, I have to say, when they said I”d be interviewing a matchmaker, I expected someone much older and dowdy. I didn”t expect our matchmaker to be so beautiful, did you, audience?”
Marsali smiled and murmured a soft word of thanks, uncomfortable with the catcalls and whistles from the audience.
”I”ve been looking forward to this segment all morning, Marsali. I can”t wait to hear your recommendations for dating. I”m recently single, as I told you backstage, and I”m ready to jump into things again.”
”Thank you, Gwen. I do have suggestions, and I certainly hope I can answer any questions you might have.”
”So tell us—if we”ve been off the dating scene for a while, how do we start? Where do we start?”
”Both of those are easy. Start where you are. A trip to the grocery store, the gym, a walk in the park. So often we have our head down and earbuds in and we don”t notice those around us, but there”s a lot of potential out there if we pay attention.”
”There are some cuties at my gym. Watch out, boys!” Gwen said, earning another audience laugh. ”But where else? What about online dating?”
”Personally, I think we need to dial things back a notch. In our world of technology, romance has gotten lost in swipes and ghosting. If there”s someone you”re interested in, why not phone them and talk to them in person? Make it more personal by asking them for coffee or dinner. But keep the phones tucked away while you have a real conversation and sincerely invest in getting to know them.”
”But what about our introverts out there? How do they strike up a conversation? Or is that where your matchmaking service comes into play?”
”Well, it certainly can come into play. Matchmaking is an age-old profession, and I”m thrilled to say that Marsali”s Matches has a ninety-two-percent success rate.”
”Oh, really?” Gwen said, giving the audience a wide smile. ”For clarification, you”re based here in Wilmington, North Carolina, but you are national?”
”Yes. I have many clients all over the US.”
”Tell us how you got into the profession.”
Marsali forced herself to inhale so her voice wouldn”t reveal the nerves racking her. ”Matchmaking is something I”ve always had a knack for. I fixed up friends in high school and college, and when I graduated with a business degree and looked at what I wanted to do, it just made sense to stick with something I love.”
”How wonderful. The Wilmington area is largely single, is it not?”
”Yes, Wilmington is about sixty percent single mostly due to the colleges, but also because so many flock to the coast when they feel in need of a fresh start, whether it”s after a breakup or being widowed or divorced.”
”Who hires you? More men or women?”
”It”s fairly even, actually. People today have busy lives and work long hours. If they aren”t into bars and clubs, which skew to the younger set, they aren”t sure where to go to meet people. I help with that and do a bit of investigating before they ever get to the first date.”
”Investigating? That sounds interesting! Tell us more.”
”Of course. I take my clients” safety seriously, and I run background checks on any potential date as well as my clients so there aren”t any surprises, at least on paper. It helps to weed out those with criminal histories, domestic violence charges, or those wanting to date when they”re already married.”
The audience laughed and Gwen nodded repeatedly.
”Yes, we definitely need those weeded out, don”t we, ladies and gentlemen? Mm-hmm.” Gwen turned to look at Marsali once more. ”Marsali, you wrote a book on dating for good girls. Tell us a bit about that.”
”I”d love to. I wrote the book when I was actively dating and realized the men I was meeting were mainly looking for hookups and not interested in something more substantial. I was frustrated and began to establish a set of rules or guidelines to use to weed them out. That became the catalyst for the book and ultimately the rules used by Marsali”s Matches.”
”What kinds of rules are we talking about here?”
”Well, the gentleman always pays for the first date. Always. It may seem sexist, but I found myself on a date once thinking my date would pay or at least split the check, but he had other ideas and I wound up paying the tab.”
”Oh-ho! I”d say he didn”t get a second date.”
”He did not. Though he did ask,” Marsali said, smiling. ”Another rule is that my clients meet at the location and no home addresses or numbers are exchanged until at least the third date because usually by then you have a better idea of whether or not there”s any crazy in the mix that the background check didn”t weed out.”
Gwen laughed at the news. ”What about all these people sending nudes? I take it that”s a no-no, too?”
”Absolutely. If that”s the kind of relationship you want, that”s what you”ll get. But if you”re looking for something more, something that might potentially lead to the altar, you have to establish boundaries and see them through.”
”I see. Well, I can understand that. I”m curious, though. You mentioned coming up with this when you were ”actively dating” and I think a matchmaker is only as good as her own perfect match. Am I right, audience? I mean, if she can’t match herself, how can she accurately match others?”
The dig slid home and Marsali inwardly cringed. Why had she done this again? She felt her face begin to flush at the catcalls and whistles. ”Um…”
”Now, now, Marsali. You have to give us the details. Your significant other has to be a gem of a man. I”m guessing tall, dark, and handsome?”
The audience response became even louder, and Marsali felt her entire body break out in sweat. Not the glistening kind but the kind that comes when fear takes hold. ”Um… M-my perfect match… is, yes, I suppose he”s all of those things.”
“Oh? Go on.”
Her brain scrambled like the eggs she”d tried to down this morning and couldn”t due to nerves. She needed to end this topic. Now. ”H-How about we discuss more of the suggestions included in my book?” Surely now the host would take a hint and change the subject?
”Oh, no, girl. You match people for a living. It’s only fair you give us a name. Right?” Gwen said to the audience, waving at them to get their agreement. “You’re too beautiful to be single. So who is your perfect man? Tell us, what’s his name?”
Marsali wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. Was she really not going to be taken seriously because she wasn”t attached? ”I really can”t?—”
”Of course you can! We have to know who this perfect specimen of manhood is.”
”Tell us!” a voice called from the audience.
”Does he have a brother?” asked another.
”Our viewing audience wants to know, girlfriend. Who is the matchmaker’s secret?”
The crowd roared, the sound deafening.
This was it. The time to come clean and confess her single status. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding against her ribs, her palms sweaty and slick, the jacket too hot. ”I”m not… I-I mean I?—”
”Marsali, how can we believe in love when you won”t share? You”ve already said he”s tall, dark, and handsome. I”m guessing quite successful, too. Someone special you think of as your perfect match?”
“Oh, well. I-I do, but?—”
“And his name is? Come on, sweet girl, we want details. You have to tell us or else how else can we believe in love?”
”Ollie,” she blurted softly, and the microphone she wore picked up the breath of sound.
“Ahh, and there we have it,” Gwen said, a sly grin forming on her face.
What? Had she really said it out loud? No, no, no, no!
”Girl, you should be shouting his name from the rooftops, not whispering,” Gwen said. “Especially since Marsali”s sweet Ollie is short for Hollywood hottie Oliver Beck.”
The audience gasped collectively and erupted in applause, shouts, and whistles. The studio audience roared with deafening noise.
”Take a look at this. Our little hometown girl and Oliver Beck are killing it,” Gwen said, ”as you can see from this picture of the happy couple taken when Oliver was in Wilmington not long ago. How cute are they?”
Marsali looked around until she spotted the image being shown to the audience. The picture was zoomed in and showed her staring up at her brother”s best friend with adoring eyes that revealed far too much for comfort. ”I— How did you— That was a private gathering.” Her parents” anniversary party, in fact.
”Oooh! Girl, we all know when it comes to Hollywood stars, ain”t nothing private. Especially when they look like him! So tell us, Marsali, what is it like being Oliver Beck”s girlfriend?”
Marsali stared into the blinding lights and stumbled through the next minute of live television looking like a fool with all of her ums, ahs, and silence when Gwen”s questions bombarded her.
Obviously they”d kept things on the down low, so were they now going to take things to the next level? Was there a ring involved? Coming soon?
The very moment Gwen gave up trying to coerce another blundering response and the all clear was given, Marsali raced from the set to the ladies” room, gasping for breath when her phone began to ring. She ignored it but it kept ringing and ringing.
She fumbled to silence it and groaned when she saw her brother”s name appear above her mother”s. Her father”s. Her best friend, Eliza, who had boarded a cruise ship this morning for her honeymoon. A multitude of unknown numbers were rapidly leaving voicemail messages. ”Sweet baby Jesus,” she said prayerfully, knowing only a higher power could ever deliver her from the mess she”d just created. ”What have I done?”