He lifts his eyebrows, though the corner of his mouth quirks upward in amusement. “I’d pay money to see that.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll give you a free show. Like now.” I reach over the edge of the bed to pick up my shoes and start to put them on. “This is the part where I disappear.”
The mirth in his eyes dies. Quickly. “What are you talking about?”
Now, I look genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I really, really am. But I can’t let you ruin this wedding.”
“Susie.” His jaw tightens and his voice drops to a stern growl as he yanks at the rope again. “Let. Me. Go.”
I bite my lip as I get to my feet. “Really…I didn’t want to do this. But you’re just so…stubborn. I’m so sorry. I’ll be back right after the rehearsal.”
His eyes flash angrily. “You’ve lost your mind.”
“Cora deserves her happy ending!” Even I’m surprised by the vehemence in my voice. “And so does Ray. And I’m not going to let you come between that.”
“Susie!” He barks my name, but I’ve already grabbed my purse. I leave the room quickly and quietly close the door behind me.
Sorry, Braxton. I feel bad about it. I do. I tie my hair back in a ponytail so no one notices quite how messed up it is.
He’ll thank me for it. Later. After Cora and Ray say their I dos.
Nothing can come between me and the perfect wedding. Not this time.
24
Susie
I’m struggling to pull myself together when I get to the brunch. I’m feeling rotten about Braxton, my clothes are a crumpled walk of shame, and I’m still warding off a hangover headache. I’m a mess and I know it, but I’m here. Dedicated to the cause.
The restaurant is gorgeous, stuck underneath a plantation-style house, ivy climbing the walls. I step inside, and it doesn’t take me long to find the wedding crowd. They’re all positioned around a white table in the corner, the loudest table in the room. Probably has something to do with the open bar and mimosas.
I don’t get to sit down before I’m accosted. Thom grabs my arm and yanks me to the side. He has fatherly disapproval written all over his face. “You look like something the cat coughed up. What happened to you?”
“Bachelorette party.” I wave him off. “I’m fine. I’m ready for this.”
“No. Clearly you’re not.”
“It’s just a little hangover, nothing I can’t handle.”
“Susie.” Thom’s tone is stern, and it stops me in my tracks. “I called Letty last night.”
My heart spirals and drops straight through the floor. My mouth goes bone-dry, and I can barely squeak out the words. “You…did what?”
“You didn’t give me a choice.” He lowers his voice. “You let the bridesmaids engage in a food fight. You got hammered with the bride. And to top it off, you slept with the best man. What did you expect me to do?”
My jaw works, but the words can’t seem to come out. “I’ve been busting my butt to make this wedding happen—”
“I know.” Thom’s hand rests on my shoulder. He’s sympathetic now, and the apology in his eyes is almost worse than the chastisement. “I know how hard you’ve been working. Which is why Letty agreed to let you stay on the assignment.” He tilts his head in a shrug. “As my assistant.”
“You’re…taking the wedding from me?” I’m so flustered, my words stammer on my tongue. I’m trying really, really hard not to cry, even as my vision blurs.
Thom’s eyes are understanding, but his tone is firm. “Go back to the house. Get some sleep. Change your clothes. We’ve got it handled from here.”
“Is that an order, boss?”
Now Thom looks really hangdog. Good. He took my wedding out from under my feet. He should feel guilty. “Susie…don’t make this worse than it is.”
“Maybe, next time, warn me before you stab me in the back.” With that, I turn on my heel and make for the exit quickly.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I try desperately to catch my breath. As my vision blurs, I see myself standing at the altar. I’m clutching my bouquet. Magnolias. They shake in my hands. I’m standing at the altar, alone, and everyone is staring at me. A sea of sad, apologetic eyes for the bride who hasn’t quite come to terms with the fact that the rug has just been pulled out from under her feet.
Standing at the altar, quietly repeating the mantra: I will not cry.
I leave the restaurant in a flurry and run headlong into a body. The collision brings me back down to earth, and I catch my balance.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I start, and then my tongue knots.
Oh. Oh no.
As though I dreamed him into reality, Ace Soren stands in front of me. Flesh and blood. Too tall, too handsome, and every bit as debonair as I remembered. He looks down at me and that familiar crooked smile stretches across his face.
“No, Susie,” he says. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”
Crap.
25
Braxton
There two thoughts that occur to me as I lie half-naked, tied to the Daltons’ guest bed.
First: This is why I always need to be the one in control.
Second: Susie is in very.
Very.
Big trouble.
I twist my wrists back and forth and try to loosen the binds for a solid ten minutes. No luck. Susie must have been a salt-clogged sailor in her past life, because this knot is next level. The rope starts to chafe my wrists, leaving itching red marks.
I grind my teeth together.
To hell with this.
I yank once. Hard. I’m rewarded with a loud crack. I’ve split the headboard completely in two.
A shame, but. What is it that Roxanne says? There’s more than one way to cook a goose?
I drop the broken rung on the bed and unravel the rope loops from my arms. Free now, I rub my wrists to stave off the offending itch.
First stop, the bathroom. I slept in my contacts. A mistake. They hurt like sandpaper, and I blink hard, eyes watering, when I finally remove the dry things. I fit my glasses on instead, brush my teeth quickly, and wash my hands. I still smell like Susie, so I apply more soap and add a spritz of cologne. I pull on clean clothes—a pair of jeans, a loose blue shirt, and a grey blazer. With that, I rake my fingers through my hair and head downstairs with quick, purposeful strides.
“Oh, Braxton, honey, I didn’t realize you were here. Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Roxanne is bustling around in the kitchen, balancing two plates in her hand.
“No, thank you, ma’am.” My jaw is tight, my tone curt. “I broke your headboard. I’ll pay for the damage.”
Roxanne blinks at me, surprised, and then brays a hearty laugh. “Whew, you all are too much for me. That’s fine—I don’t want to know.”
“Shouldn’t you be at the brunch?” I ask her.
“Oh, no.” She loads the dishwasher. “I was supposed to drive Cora over, but then she told me the brunch was cancelled. It would be nice if people informed me of what was going on every now and then—”