Chapter Three
LEO
I held her tightly as she started to sob. Something was dead wrong. Canal Street was bustling with passersby, so we weren't attracting any attention. This was New Orleans, after all—there were far more interesting things going on than us.
I put my hand on her upper back, rubbing in slow circles. I didn't say anything at all; I simply wanted her to feel safe.
After several minutes, she straightened up, her blue eyes wide as she looked to the left and the right. Her gorgeous blonde hair was messy around her face.
"Oh my God, did anyone see us?" she murmured.
A few hundred people, at least, but I knew what she was asking: if anyone from her guest list had noticed us.
"Not that I could tell. Want to move away from here?"
"Yes, please."
"How much time do we have?" I asked.
"We're not in a hurry."
This was worse than I’d thought. Much worse.
We turned right on Canal Street and walked down Camp Street.
"Where are we going?" she asked as we turned left on Decatur Street.
"Café Du Monde. Some beignets would do you good."
She smiled. Not quite the megawatt I was used to, but I took it as a win anyway.
"Oh God, yes. I haven't had one in half a year."
I raised a brow. "Why? You love beignets."
"I wanted to look great in my wedding dress." Her eyes filled with tears again, but she didn't say anything. She simply took my arm, like she'd done when I first arrived at the hotel, and led the way.
We walked down Decatur, past a shop selling burlesque outfits and another one selling all sorts of music trivia.
"You probably want quiet, but as you know, I'm very bad at that," I said.
"Oh, I remember," she murmured.
"Want to tell me what's going on?"
"Let's have some beignets first."
"What the lady wants, the lady gets," I said.
She was silent all the way until we reached Jackson Square. Then she looked up and groaned.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"We were supposed to meet the photographer. Nancy is blowing up my phone. I’m putting it on Do Not Disturb." Then she fell silent again.
Patience was not my virtue, but I did keep a clear head and stayed calm in a crisis situation.
I was famous for it at the office and, to a certain extent, in the family.
Although Nick would probably disagree. Then again, he disagreed with me on principle just to rile me up.
I returned the favor as often as I could. You know, brotherly love and all that.
As expected, Café Du Monde was packed when we arrived.
"Let's stand in the carryout line," she said.
"But it's longer than the one for sitting down," I pointed out.
"That's because the one for seating moves much slower. Most people lose patience and leave, whereas the carryout line moves very fast. They're extremely well organized."
"Carryout it is."
Five minutes later, it was almost our turn.
"I was ready to bet that we'd spend at least an hour in line."
She scoffed. "Why would you think I was wrong?"
"I've never seen a line move at this pace."
"Since Café Du Monde is open 24/7, they've had time to perfect their technique, I guess."
"You want us to take the beignets back to the hotel?" I asked her.
"I'm not going back to the hotel."
What did that mean?
I looked straight at her. She took in a deep breath, obviously upset.
"I can't marry Walter. He's cheating."
For a second, my vision turned completely black.
Keep calm, Leo. I could never remember a time when I hadn't kept my cool. Even when we found out Dad had another family—specifically, that we were the other family—I’d been calm and kept everyone around me that way too.
But right now, I was so fucking close to losing it.
"That's fucked-up. I'm sorry."
"I went to his room to talk to him about the rehearsal dinner," she said quickly, as if she wanted to get it all off her chest, "and he was on the phone with someone else." Her eyes darted away.
"What the hell did he even have to say for himself?"
"I didn't confront him. I don't even think he knows I was there. I just heard and left. But…" She shook her head. "There is no way I was wrong."
"I believe you."
The look of relief on her face astounded me. "You do?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I was afraid that you might tell me maybe I misunderstood or something."
"Fuck no. There's no way to misunderstand someone talking to their fucking mistress."
An odd gasp startled us. We both turned to look at the person standing behind us. A woman in her late fifties, I'd say, covered her mouth with her hand.
"I'm so sorry,” she told us. “I tried not to react, but that is awful. I'm sorry, darling. Know what? You're going to find someone better. Like this hunk here. I bet your fiancé has got nothing on him."
I felt my eyes bulge. My family sometimes pointed out that my humor was inappropriate, but this lady took the cake.
The situation was so insane that I simply started to laugh.
A second later, I realized Tory was laughing too.
It started as a slow chuckle, then got stronger and stronger until it was a loud, ongoing guffaw.
"Oh, thank you," she said when she finally calmed down. "I really needed that."
The lady winked at us. "Figured you might, although I wasn't totally joking."
We stepped forward. There were only four people in front of us. I was going to suggest to Maddox and Gabe to hunt down employees from Café Du Monde for their hotel's restaurant back in Boston. They were very efficient.
I zeroed in on Tory, feeling protective of her right now. Hell, I always did.
After she'd shared everything with me, I could understand her reaction when she'd burst out of the hotel like that.
“How many beignets?” I asked when our turn came.
“Normally, I'd say one is enough, but this is a three-beignet type of meltdown.”
When our turn came, we ordered three beignets for her and three for me, plus two bottles of water. Then I stepped to the side so the lady behind us in line could place her order, thanking her for lightening up our day.
"Where do you want to eat?" I asked.
"Let's sit along the river."
"Sure."
We walked at a leisurely pace, then sat down on the concrete at the edge of the Mississippi. I took out the beignets, putting them between us.
She closed her eyes before taking a bite. I was transported back to our days in college days. “Oh, I missed these so much.”
“Tory? Want to talk about it?”
“I’m overwhelmed,” she admitted, “but it does feel much easier to talk right now. I know one thing for sure: I’m not going back to the hotel.”
“Do you have everything you need from there? I could get the rest of your things for you. Whatever you want to do, I’ll help."
"You'd literally drive the getaway car, huh?"
"I'm your man for anything."
We both smiled, and I knew she remembered the first time I’d told her that. Second year of college, she’d needed to make a quick escape from a party. I helped.
"Bet you didn't think that you'd have to be my proverbial getaway driver on the eve of my wedding, huh?"
"Where do you want to go?" I asked, moving on to my second beignet.
She'd already finished all three when she answered. "Walter and I live in a house in the Marigny. I don't want to see anyone back at the hotel, so maybe we should go there," she said, then added, "Actually, I don't even want to be at the house either, but all my things are there."
"Then let's do the following. We'll go to the house, you'll grab your stuff, and then we'll go somewhere else. A different hotel."
"Thanks, Leo," she murmured, coming closer to me.
I realized a second before she leaned in that she wanted another hug. I was ready this time, putting an arm around her lower back and the other on the back of her head.
“We've got this,” I assured her.
Why did she have to smell so delicious? The cinnamon and apples comforted me.
Get your shit together, Leo. This is your best friend. She's distraught. She needs your help. Stop fantasizing about her body.
That wasn’t possible, though. Not when she pressed herself even closer to me and I realized she wasn't wearing a bra. I took in a deep breath through my nose, trying to ignore my thoughts. It didn't help for jack shit.
"Want me to book a hotel?” I asked.
"Let's just go. I want to pack. We'll see after that."
"Ready when you are.”
She pulled back, looking around. "It's gotten a bit foggy."
I hadn't even paid attention, but sure enough, here was the famous Mississippi fog. It was spreading faster than should have been allowed.
The first time I saw it was when I came to visit Tory after she moved here, and I’d finally understood why there were so many paranormal stories set in New Orleans. It was easy to believe that the fog wasn't a natural element.
She sighed and then got up. I followed suit.
"I give it another hour max before my phone blows up. I already have a million missed calls from Nancy. I don't know when Walter will realize I'm not there."
It didn't even take one hour. Thirty minutes later, approximately five minutes after arriving at her home, her phone rang. Tory had already filled a suitcase when she looked at her phone, growing red in the face.
"It's him?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Want me to talk to him?"
"No” is what I think she said as she put the phone to her ear.
"Where the fuck are you?" Walter’s voice resounded through the room.
Next time I saw this guy, I’d punch the living daylights out of him.
"Home," she said.
"Are you shitting me? You've been riding my ass the whole day to be on schedule, and now you’re late?"
"I'm canceling the wedding, Walter."
I gave her a thumbs-up, muttering, “I'm proud of you.” She’d crumbled in my arms not too long ago, and now her voice was strong and full of determination.
"What the hell?" His voice was so loud, I could hear his every word through her phone.
Suddenly, I realized her strength was waning. Her eyes were filling with tears. She took a deep breath and moved the phone away from her ear.
I reached for it. "May I?"
She nodded, and I immediately grabbed it from her.
"Listen, you piece of shit," I said into the phone. "Leave her alone."
"Who the hell is this?"