Chapter 36 Everly
EVERLY
I’m the worst at keeping secrets, subterfuge, and masterminding plots.
Keeping this from Grey is killing me. But it helps that I feel very fancy with little waves in my hair and a gown fit for a princess, er, queen.
I’d rather not think about Princess Braaten aka Princess Papaya—yeah, I’ve been doing my homework—but now that I have, so much makes sense. Or doesn’t, but hopefully it will soon.
The gown I chose for the charity ball is dark blue with lace on the top and the skirt is dusted with sparkly thread that catches the light when I swish and twirl.
When I exit the room at the hotel, Grey stands a few paces down the hall. His eyes widen as I approach, suggesting he likes what he sees.
I turn in a circle.
He admires every second of my spin. “Gorgeous.”
“I could be wearing a paper sack and you’d say that.”
“Not true.” He smirks then adds, “True.”
With an appreciative smile, I lift onto my toes and peck him on the cheek. His trim beard showcases the good looks that often remain hidden.
I whisper in his ear, “And you, Mr. Adams, look dashing.”
His neck flushes. “You think so?”
“We clean up real fancy.”
He extends his elbow for me to take. Grateful for his steadying presence, because he has no idea what’s coming, my heels click on the hotel lobby’s marble floor as we exit.
They fall into rhythm with my pulse, which is like a countdown.
T-Minus one hour until the falcon lands, aka I got some important info out of Todd and plan to give Grey a belated birthday gift.
A sleek black SUV brings us to the event space hosting the First Annual Boston Bruisers Charity Ball.
Grey’s voice floats to me as we pass through the glittery city, lit up at night. “Even though we’ve been married all along, I’m excited for everyone to meet my wife, Mrs. Adams.”
I lace my fingers in his. “I get a little thrill every time you say it, Mr. Adams.”
Regrettably, I’ve been to numerous events with Todd where he’d parade me around like his trophy wife-to-be and then ignore me when someone who’d give him a leg up on the social ladder came along.
When we pull up and get out of the limo, this charity ball is next level. There’s a blue carpet rather than a red one, and paparazzi line up outside black velvet ropes. Black and blue lights bathe the white stucco building in the Bruisers’ team colors.
I have to admit, after being at the cabin for a few weeks, I experience a bit of culture shock upon returning to civilization.
Being at the beach was relaxing and the day at the spa was a treat, but the frenetic energy of the city replaces the slow pace of the island I’d gotten used to as camera flashes pop and reporters volley questions at us.
Once we get inside, my breath doesn’t come any easier. Not with the tinkling of the piano or the soft flicker of candlelight.
It doesn’t help that Grey is suddenly tense. He’s probably dealing with his own reintegration into team life. Standing a head taller than most people, he cuts his eyes in the direction of the arched opening leading to the banquet room.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Grey loosens his hand from mine and strides away.
I stand next to a tall banner displaying the names of all of the individuals and companies, along with their logos, that had donated to the charity ball. A top donor is a familiar metal-style font with the letters LH fused together in a familiar logo. Beneath it is the name LeFevre Holdings.
One tier down is Mercer Corp, the company where Todd used to work.
Those rats.
Anxiety swims in my stomach even though there’s no chance they’re here. After seeing the picture in the photo album, a series of texts exchanged where I used some top-level negotiating—a skill I’d observed in my father—I thought I got what I wanted.
I’d been reluctant to tell Grey anything, even though it broke our Marriage Club rules, in case I was mistaken.
I also learned that Todd is no longer at Mercer, but in our exchanges, he didn’t specify his new job. It’s mean of me to think this, but I secretly hope that he was fired.
However, the Ice King and Todd have important things to do, places to go, and people to crush. There’s no chance either of them would attend this ball. I hope.
As guests mill around and take their seats, I scan the room for Grey. Tall and handsome, dressed in a suit and tie, he ought to stand out from the crowd, but all the guys wear black suits...and the women are in blue—the theme.
Eventually, I spot him talking to a plump, bald man with a frown on his face.
I cross the room and Grey introduces me to Commissioner Starkowsky, which is just the beginning of a round of introductions that leave my head spinning.
For weeks, I’ve seen little more than Grey, Sonny, and a smattering of visitors to the island.
Oh, how I wish we were watching Biler og Lastebiler in a pillow fort and eating blueberries.
But that isn’t what almost makes me dizzy. Despite Grey’s good work for the charity and position on the team, I feel like a trophy on his arm with little to contribute other than a polite nod and smile—much the way I had with Todd as a prize for winning the metal magnate’s daughter.
Well, until I left him at the altar in a state of utter humiliation. Then again, he drove the nails into that vampire coffin when he cheated.
When I was a little girl, I’d watch my father get dressed up and flounce around with women dressed fancy in silky and shimmery gowns with jewelry dripping from their ears, necks, and wrists. Pangs of excited jealousy would stick with me after their heels clicked out the door.
As an adult, I care little for networking events and social hours where my only job is to smile politely. I don’t miss Todd or his antics at all. But I can’t deny that I feel uneasy.
The guests funnel into the banquet hall and I sit at the head table with Grey, the coach, and the other players involved in the #BruiserButt scandal, along with their plus ones, who turn out to be a pleasant surprise—all the Blancbourg coaches are honorary guests...or dates?
Ladies, spill your stories. Then again, I suppose I have one to tell, too.
Grey eyes his teammates, but I sense an undercurrent of tension rippling across his skin as Coach Hammer roasts them all, followed by a few kind words, applauding them for their efforts after #BruiserButt.
The guys each express their appreciation for the Blancbourg program when I spot a familiar face in the crowd.
My blood runs cold.
An icy wind gusts from the north.
I jerk my head in Grey’s direction, begging for an explanation, but there’s no way he’ll have one to offer.
A speaker acknowledges several key donors and how their contributions help fund the featured charity. Everyone applauds the positive impact it’ll have, complete with slides illustrating graphs and statistics.
It would be rude for me to get up, but every cell in my body commands me to seek refuge. There is no good to come from my father being here.
However, another speaker takes the microphone.
“Just before the close of our fiscal year, we had a sizable donation from Lefevre Holdings. You may be familiar with them. In fact, I think they’re responsible for providing the metal for this microphone, the light fixtures,” he points overhead, “and just about everything made out of the material in this country. May we have a round of applause for Mr. Lefevre?”
My father’s slim smile is anything but appreciative. After all, he is the Ice King.
The saddest part of all is that he has no idea I’m up here with one of the honored guests. A band tightens around my heart and I wish I had my mother’s scarf. But tonight isn’t about me, my father, or Toad Prince Todd and Princess Papaya.
Nope. The man of the hour just walked through the doorway.
Or not.
Instead of the person I expect, Todd strides past the tables. He points at me and then my father, who shakes hands and accepts a certificate from the speaker onstage.
Todd approaches me. “We have unfinished business.”
All I hear is static in my ears as shock rushes through me because this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Yes, I contacted Todd to help me locate someone we thought was MIA. But he’s obviously using the opportunity to get back at me.
Grey’s expression turns to stone and he gets to his feet. “You have no business here unless you’ve come to reckon with—” His hands ball into fists.
The other guys on the team get to their feet.
Declan says, “All of us.”
Wolf cuts his eyes at Todd.
Chase glances around the room and I follow his gaze to see the rest of the Bruiser players on their feet.
“You stole my wife,” Todd accuses.
“Todd, you’re nuts if you think I was going to marry you after what you did.”
“You humiliated me. Left me at the altar.”
I can’t deny I feel the heat of a lot of eyes on me. “There was no way I could make myself walk down the aisle after I found you and—”
“Todd, what are you doing? I thought you said—” Princess Papaya struts toward Todd and then stops. She looks my husband up and down if it took her a moment to place him out of context. “Grey? What are you doing here?”
He narrows his eyes because it’s obvious to anyone that she’s not the brightest bulb. “This is a private team event.”
The other guys step forward, ready to escort out the unwelcome guests.
“The plan wasn’t for my father, my ex-fiancé, or Princess Papaya to crash our party.”
“I couldn’t resist,” Todd hisses.
“Leave my wife alone. Leave this building, now,” Grey grinds out.
“Your wife? Do you know anything about her? Do you know why she married you? It was all fake.”
Then the Ice King himself inserts himself into the situation. “And your intentions to marry my daughter were genuine?”
Todd shifts from foot to foot because Princess Papaya already did the honors of outing their affair in front of all our wedding guests, which made me feel slightly less guilty about not making it down the aisle.
But I am fresh out of embarrassment and am going to handle this thing like a boss. A mom-wife-girl boss hybrid.
Until the other day, I didn’t know Grey’s ex’s name was actually Princess, er, Princess Papaya, which the castaway man at my wedding shouted as he chased after her. The man I was hoping would be here instead of the others.
My ex glares at me and goes on to say, “It’s my understanding that your I dos were rather unusual.”
“I love this woman and honor our vows, which are none of your concern.” Grey’s jaw ticks.
My father says, “Everly.” It’s not a question or even a greeting, really, more of an acknowledgment. Proof of life.
“Father.”
“You’re married?”
“Yes, this is Greyson Adams, my husband.”
Emotion flickers across his features before he returns to his normal and neutral, if not a little hostile, Ice King expression.
“I know who he is, and it looks like he has the situation well in hand, but it would be a greater honor than this award,” he waves the certificate in his hand, “to see this man out the door.” His voice is as sharp as an icicle as he grabs Todd’s arm.
My eyebrows lift ever so slightly. Did I hear my father right?
He eyes Princess Papaya, possibly recognizing her from when she did the whole, I object to this union thing, well before the pastor asked, but still. She showed up on my wedding day, dressed to say I do, and kissed the groom like they were lawfully wedded husband and wife.
“Wait? You know each other?” Grey says, pointing from Todd to Princess.
My father glowers. “Yes, they’re the ones who ruined my daughter’s future. I’ve since made it a point to pay Todd back in kind.”
My lifted eyebrows bump against my forehead, rippling with confusion. “Dad, you’re not upset that I didn’t marry Todd?”
“Not after I found out what he did.”
“How do Toddy and I know each other? We’re in love.” Princess Papaya practically hangs off Todd’s shoulder. I notice her slight Norwegian accent.
“Did you know about this?” Grey asks me.
“Sort of. But I made a connection. A big one. And tonight was supposed to be special because—” I pause all eyes on me and wish I’d arranged a private reunion.
“Princess? Princess Papaya!” the voice of a man who has been lost at sea calls from the entryway, breaking the silence.
Even though I hid while the drama played out at my would-be wedding, I’m having a slight sense of déjà vu.
Princess huffs. “I told you to wait in the car.”
Just then, a tall, tan man wearing an unbuttoned tropical shirt and flip-flops walks into the room. His focus remains on Princess Papaya, then Grey does a very aggressive double-take.
“Bran?”
The man blinks with bewilderment before his gaze lands on his brother.
But the flash of recognition I’d hoped for isn’t there.
I envisioned a happy reunion complete with music and a choreographed song and dance number. Like a musical. Theatrical. But the expression on Grey’s face is more like a tragedy.