“Well, after today, there’ll be two of us minding them.”
His eyebrows rise high into his forehead, and a slow smile that is either admiration or incredulity spreads across his face. I hope it’s admiration. “I guess you’re right,” he says.
I want to move the conversation off this topic. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. That room is probably one of the fanciest I’ve ever stayed in. And that is some view.”
“I’m glad you were comfortable.”
“Here you are, Mr. Grey.” Mrs. Jones places a black coffee on the counter in front of me.
“Thank you, Gail.”
“What would you like for breakfast?”
“What Ray’s having.”
She smiles. “Coming right up, sir.”
I slide onto the stool beside Ray and ask him if he’s been fishing recently. His eyes light up.
Even I have to admit that Elliot looks good in a tux. We’re in the back of the Q7, and nearing our parents’ place in Bellevue. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I wish people would stop asking me that.”
“You? Nervous? You’re the coolest dude I know. What gives? Is it because you’re saddling yourself to the same woman for the rest of your life? I’d be nervous, too.”
I roll my eyes. “Your promiscuity knows no bounds, Elliot. One of these days someone is going to turn your world upside down. I didn’t know it would happen to me. And yet here we are.”
His eyes cloud, and he looks out of the window as we pull up to our parents’ house. There are a number of cars queuing for the valet service, and guests in their wedding finery are following the pale pink carpet to the rear of the house. As Taylor steers us into the driveway, two guys in dark suits, with discreet earpieces and regulation aviators, step forward and open our doors. They’re the additional security.
“Ready?” asks Elliot with a quick, reassuring glance at me. “If you want to back out, there’s still time.”
“Fuck off.”
He grins and climbs out of the car.
I take a deep breath.
This is it.
Showtime, Grey.
My phone buzzes and I glance at it.
Fuck. My scalp tingles. It’s a text from Elena.
ELENA
You’re making a big mistake.
I know you. But I’ll be here
for you when your life falls apart.
And it will. I’ll be here because
in spite of what I said I love you.
I’ll always love you.
What the everlasting fuck is this?
“Christian,” Elliot distracts me. “Are you coming?” He’s waiting.
“Yes,” I snap. I quickly delete the text and climb out of the car.
Fuck her.
“You okay?” Elliot frowns when I join him.
“Yes. Let’s do this.” I storm ahead, trying to bring my burst of anger under control. How dare Elena try to derail me on my wedding day! I ignore the young woman who’s standing on the path, all smiles. She’s carrying a clipboard, but I charge past her, leaving Elliot to check in with her, as I head through the front door. Grace is in the hall.
“Darling, you’re here.”
“Mother.”
“You look so handsome, Christian.” She puts her arms around me, gives me a swift, restrained hug, and inclines her head toward me, offering a cheek.
“Mom,” I whisper, and she steps back, concern flashing in her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Ana is upstairs—you can’t see her until the wedding. She slept in your room last night. Come with me.” She takes my hand and leads me down the hallway into the den.
“Is it nerves, darling? I’d hug you properly, but I don’t want to get makeup on your suit,” Grace says. “The aesthetician put it on with a trowel. It will take months to get it off.”
I laugh, and I’m so grateful that it’s Grace I got to see first. “I’m okay, Mom.”
She clasps both of my hands. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” My anger has evaporated, beaten back by the woman I call Mom, and I resolve that, today of all days, I will not think about Mrs. Lincoln.
“I’m so excited for you, darling,” Grace adds, beaming up at me.
“You look good, Mom. Makeup and all.”
“Thank you, dear. Oh, the donations to Coping Together have been unprecedented. I can’t thank you enough. It’s so generous of you.”
I chuckle. “That was Ana’s idea. Not mine.”
“Oh, that’s lovely.” She’s trying to hide her surprise.
“I told you. She’s not acquisitive.”
“Of course she isn’t. It’s a wonderful gesture on both your parts. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I got an aggravating text from an old business associate.”
Grace narrows her eyes, and I think I may have said too much, but she chooses to ignore my explanation and checks her watch. “Kickoff is in fifteen minutes. I have your boutonniere here. Now, do you want to wait here, or go out to the pavilion?”
“I think Elliot and I should go take our seats and wait.”
Mom pins the white rose to my lapel and steps back to admire her handiwork.
“Oh, darling.” She stops, placing her fingers over her lips, and I think she’s going to cry.
Shit. Mom.
My throat tightens, but Elliot steps into the room, saving us both. “What am I, chopped liver?” he chastises Grace, with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Oh, darling. You look so handsome, too.” She recovers and cups his face and pinches his cheeks, and I feel a momentary stab of envy that they have such a touchy-feely relationship.
“Mom, you look like a queen.” My brother, charming as ever, plants a kiss on her forehead. She laughs, a girlish, sweet laugh, and she pats her hair.
“You boys,” she admonishes us. “You’d better get out there. The ushers will show you where to go. But first let me pin on your boutonniere, Elliot.”
As we head to the pavilion, Taylor intercepts me.
“Sir, I’ve picked up Miss Steele’s suitcase, and everything else has been sent on to Sea-Tac.”