54. June
54
JUNE
“ I can’t believe I’ve never taken you here before,” Anderson says as he pulls onto a private road. It’s treelined and gorgeous. He drives down the road like he’s done it a thousand times before, but I can’t stop thinking we’re trespassing.
“This is the right road?”
“June, this is where I grew up. Well, when I wasn’t at the academy or at our city apartment.”
Butterflies soar in my stomach. “Do I look okay?”
“You look incredible. I love that dress—but why a wedding dress? This is just a reception.”
“It’s our wedding reception. What else was I supposed to wear? A tux?”
Anderson growls in a way I’ve never heard.
“What was that?”
“Me thinking of you in a tux.”
I giggle. “Really?”
He gets a wistful look in his pretty blue eyes. “You know those vintage black and white pictures of Hollywood actresses in suits because it was against studio protocol for women to wear pants, and they were tired of it?”
“I didn’t know that was why they did that, but I’ve seen them. Greta Garbo, Marlena Dietrich, all those. What about it?”
“I have had a thing for women in tuxes since I saw those pictures. Something about the rebelliousness of it all. Thinking of you, dolled up in the retro hair and makeup … and wearing a tux … ” There’s that growl again.
“If you keep that up, we’ll never make it to our own party.”
“I’m game if you are.”
I giggle at him. “No! We already ditched everyone for our wedding. If we do it again, I don’t think they’ll forgive us. We are not getting disinherited because we couldn’t keep it in our pants.”
“Oh, fine, bring that up.” He huffs, smiling.
The trees part to frame something too big to be called a house. Is it a manor or a mansion, I don’t know. But it’s huge and gray with white trim, surrounded by more trees. The driveway loops near the front door, and it trails off to the left. Some trees divide the property there, but I can make out another building in that direction. “What’s over there?”
“The stables.”
“You grew up with stables? Like with horses and stuff?”
“I never told you?”
I just chuckle and let it go. I have a feeling today will be full of moments like this one. It’s always that way when I’m around rich people. They are blind to the luxuries they see every day. It’s not false modesty or that they’re hiding things—it’s just that it doesn't occur to them to bring it up. “Do you ride the horses?”
“Only the older ones. The younger ones are for racing, so they train with their jockeys, and Dad thinks they shouldn’t be ridden by anyone else.” He shrugs.
“Wait, so it’s not just having horses for the sake of having them?”
He shakes his head. “Horses are a business until they’re retired. Mom is too much of a softy to send them away or put them out to stud. When Dad is done with them, she gets to keep them. Sometimes, I wonder if he’s in racing just so she has an excuse to have the horses.”
“That seems like a lot of thoughtfulness. Are you sure we’re talking about Elliot West?”
“The guy’s an asshole, but he’s her asshole.”
“Ooh, save that line for when you make your toast.”
He laughs and parks next to the other cars on the lot. I hadn’t realized just how many people would show up to this thing. Anderson seems surprised, too. “Looks like both of them called up everyone they know. How’d they get so many people to RSVP in a week?”
I shrug. “Blackmail?”
“Let’s hope not.” Anderson takes my hand in his and leads us up the walkway from the parking area.
Well-manicured bushes line the stone path to the grand entrance. Half-circle steps stack to the white front doors, and before Anderson can ring the bell, a man in a uniform opens it. He’s an older white gentleman with an English accent. “Mr. West, how good to see you.”
“Charles, I tell you every time that’s Dad’s name.”
He laughs politely as though they’ve had this conversation for years. “And is this Mrs. West?”
I smile up at him. “Yes.”
“Oh, he gets to call you that in public, but I can’t?”
Charles smirks. “We are fortunate for this spate of good weather. Your parents are hosting in the garden.”
“Thank you, Charles,” Anderson says as we walk in.
The place is immaculate, of course, but it’s not just the cleanliness that makes it immaculate. It’s the abundance of white everywhere. Some of the interior walls are a pale gray, but the ceilings, wide trim, and wainscoting are icy white. Thankfully, the floors are glossy pale hardwood, offsetting so much brightness, though not enough for my tastes. Wrought iron chandeliers decorate every space we walk into, as do oversized wrought iron vases with tall greenery lurching over the edges.
“The outside is exactly what I expected, but not the inside.”
“How so?”
“Everything is so … sterile.”
Anderson laughs hard. “How does this surprise you?”
“I expected some of your mother’s warmth to come through.”
“This is the handiwork of the decorator she hired last year. I don’t expect it to make it through the end of the year.”
“Ah.”
When we turn another corner, I’m lost. I’d never find my way out without Anderson at my side. He turns to a pair of double doors and says, “This is my mother.” When he flings them open, I gasp.
I’d always seen conservatories in films but never thought I’d be in one. Glass outer walls let all the sunshine in on the exotic plants in every direction. There’s even a waterfall and a small pond with a bridge over it. Koi swim contentedly, and the moment they see us, they swim right to us, opening their mouths near the surface.
“Are they okay?”
He chuckles and opens a wooden box I hadn’t noticed. There, he scoops out some pellets and tosses them to their hungry mouths. It’s a feeding frenzy, and then they go back to swimming or begging. “They’re greedy, that’s all. What do you think of the place?”
“It’s magical, but I thought we were supposed to join the party.”
“We are.” Anderson pulls me in for a kiss. “But I wanted one more private moment with you before everyone else steals your attention. You look extra beautiful today.”
“Thank you.” I sigh. “But we should go to the?—"
“I know. But I love seeing you smile like this.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Come along, Mr. West. Let’s not keep our guests waiting.”
He laughs. “You mean my parents.”
“Them, too.”
We reach the outside, thanks to the conservatory’s exterior exit, and the moment we do, we are bombarded with music and people I’ve never met. Being early evening, amber light pours through the treetops casting everyone in a flattering glow. A few hundred feet away, several billowing white tents delineate the party from the rest of the garden, but that doesn’t slow any of the guests down. I can’t keep up with all the introductions as people congratulate us.
But I know a few of these people. Cole, Anderson’s younger brother, beams at us. “Congratulations to the happy couple,” he says as he hugs Anderson. When he hugs me, he says, “And congratulations for skipping out on the big wedding bullshit. Smart call.”
“It was a mutual decision, actually.”
“Well, it was smart, whoever came up with it. Our family and weddings … ” He shakes his head. “You two set a good precedent. If I ever find Mrs. Right, I’m following your lead.”
“Cole, where are Mom and Dad?” Anderson asks.
“Dad is at the bar over there, and Mom is corralling Mrs. Lexington away from the catering waiter she has her eye on.”
“Again?”
I snort a laugh.
“Oh yeah. You know how she is about the help .”
“Anderson West, you old son of a bitch!”
I glance up at him while he winces. “Who?—"
But then I see him. Tag McAllister.
Oh balls.
He comes straight to Anderson, grappling him into a back-slapping hug. “Heard you got married, but that can’t be right. You wouldn’t have gotten married without your best man!”
Goody.
Anderson smiles, laying his arm around my shoulders. Anyone on the outside wouldn’t see it, but his hand has hooked around my arm in a death grip. Poor guy. He tells Tag, “Actually, we got married without anyone else around. Just the judge and the court witness. It wasn’t anything personal, Tag. We just wanted it to be for us.”
Tag looks at me, and for a moment, I think I’m going to get away with anonymity. But I must have pissed off some deity because his eyes light with recognition. “You’re the same June Devlin from Appleton, right?”
“Yep.”
“Holy shit! You filled out!”
“Tag,” Anderson says, sharper than expected. “Why don’t you get us some wine?” It’s not really a question.
“Sure, yeah. You can count on me.” With that, Tag disappears into the crowd.
“We will not see him the rest of the day, mark my words.”
I giggle at him. “How’s that?”
“I sent him for alcohol. He is guaranteed to be distracted by something shiny at the bar.”
“Nice trick.” More people come to greet us, but it’s one near the reception area that catches my eye.
My father is here.