by Jamie Howard
The hours passed into early morning—tick, tick, tick—my hope sinking with every twitch of the minute hand.
“The fact that she’s still in there is a good sign,” Ben said.
“No news is good news.” That gem was from Gavin.
A hand on my shoulder, and a hard squeeze from Felix. At least he didn’t dump another platitude on me.
The door opened with a whoosh, footsteps scuffing on the floor.
“Mr. Mathis.”
Finally, I moved, my neck protesting the change in direction. “Yes?” I said, my voice cracking. My face was already twisting, anticipating the bad news. The entire room held a collective breath.
“Your wife is in recovery. We’ll monitor her there for a time before transferring her to the ICU—”
“Wait.” I pinched my lips together, trying to hold back the next wave of tears. “Are you saying . . . she’s alive?”
Dr. Abel smiled, adjusting his glasses on his face. “Your wife is most definitely alive.”
Chapter 33: Bianca
A fist pounded on my door. Correction, two fists pounded on my door, in an alternating rhythm that resembled machine-gun fire. I quirked an eyebrow at it, hesitating.
“Bianca! Biancabiancabiancabiancabiancabiancabianca!” Harper yelled through the door.
I threw the door open and glanced quickly down the hallway, half expecting someone to be running down it with an eight-inch blade wearing a hockey mask. When I was satisfied that no one was chasing down Harper to kill her, I pulled back and glared at her. “What was that?”
She gave me a maniacal grin, rocking up onto the balls of her feet. “I’m going to ignore your snarkiness because in thirty seconds, you are going to be squealing right along with me and thanking me like you’ve never thanked anyone before.”
I searched out the time, glowing green on the microwave. “Harper, I don’t really have time for this. My shift starts in an hour—”
“No, it doesn’t. I got someone to cover it.” For the first time, I noticed the two enormous garment bags dangling from her fingers. “Ah, you finally noticed. So, did you know that I have a friend who owns a high-end consignment shop?”
I shook my head.
“Well, I do, and she let me borrow these two beauties.”
“I’m assuming there’s more to this story.” I retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator and twisted the cap off with a crack. Harper followed right behind me, practically skipping with glee.
“Elizabeth York,” she spat out, bouncing up and down.
I gave her a blank stare and shook my head.
“E-liz-a-beth York,” she repeated. Her smile slowly started fading, the corners of her lips dipping like melted ice cream dripping down the cone. “Are you freaking kidding me? You don’t know who she is?”
I stuck my hand out toward her. “Hi, I’m Bianca. I don’t own a TV, or troll social media sites, or touch anything resembling a magazine.”
She smacked my hand away. “This rock you’re living under? It’s sad. But for right now, feed off my excitement.” Her hands twirled in front of her like she could literally waft her energy toward me. “Elizabeth York is an A-list actress. Super famous. And she’s marrying some Russian hockey star. Don’t ask me his name, I can’t pronounce it, it’s got like seven consonants to one vowel. Did I mention they’re getting married?” She reverted to jumping up and down. “Tonight?”
I pursed my lips, trying to follow her train of thought. “Okay, so two famous people who I don’t know are tying the knot tonight, and you’re spazzing out because . . .”
“We’re going! My friend, the caterer, they got the gig. And he just called me, like, two hours ago, and he can sneak us in. So, I ran over to the shop and got us dresses and—”
I squeezed her in a tight hug, the plastic of the water bottle crinkling in my hand as it got crushed. “We’re crashing a wedding?”
“Hell yeah we are!”
Harper’s attitude was contagious, and I found my cheeks aching with the strength of my smile. I couldn’t care less about this Elizabeth person, but crossing this next thing off my list left me with two measly items. I smelled the end, saw it cresting on the horizon. I was going to do this.
I pressed the water bottle into her hand, the cap slipping between my fingers and falling to the floor. “Crap. I need to take a shower.” My hand searched over my hair, which I’d casually thrown back into a ponytail. “The dress. You gotta let me see the dress. I’m not sure I’ll have the right shoes.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Jewelry. Oh God.”
Placing the water bottle on the counter, Harper gripped me by both arms. “Breathe, Bianca. And before you do anything else, call Ian.”
“You want me to invite Ian?”
“I’m dying for him to come. Please, let me finally meet the guy who’s got my best friend falling in love with him.”
My mouth dropped open.
Harper’s finger prodded me under the chin and pushed it closed. “Was it the ‘best friend’ comment, or the ‘falling in love’ comment?”
I wasn’t even going to touch the second half of that sentence. Denying it would make me a liar, but actually saying it out loud made things infinitely more complicated. “I’m your best friend?” I tried to wrap my mind around it, and really, it wasn’t all that hard. Harper was my best friend, too. Just that simple realization stirred up a whole mess of emotions—a quick spot of pain, a dash of regret, followed by a whole flood of happiness.
“Don’t you forget it. Even if you go through with this asinine idea of moving across the country to practice law when you can do it just as well here, and I have to survive on once-a-year visits and weekly Skype dates, you’ll still be my best friend.” She gave me a shake. “Call him! We’ve got two hours. Let’s go!”
I sprinted across the apartment to my bedroom, throwing myself across the bed to yank my phone off the nightstand. One pillow jolted with the impact, falling off the side of the bed. The situation called for haste, so I skipped over our typical route of communication and called him.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Ian’s voice was edged with worry.
“Fine. Better than fine, actually. I know it’s Saturday, but please tell me you don’t have plans tonight.” I crossed my fingers, waiting for his answer.
There was a muttered curse on the other end of the line, and my excitement slipped a few degrees. “I’m at my mom’s tonight.”
I bit back a sigh. “Damn. I was really hoping you’d be free.”
“I’m sorry. I really wish I was.”
“It’s alright.” I rolled over onto my back. Harper poked her head in the room, her hand alternating from the thumbs-up to the thumbs-down position. I shook my head no, and she rolled her eyes. She gave me the wrap-it-up sign and then pointed to the imaginary watch on her wrist, lifting one eyebrow at me.
“Well, I’ve gotta run.”
“Wait, wait. What’s going on tonight?”
“My friend Harper got . . . you know what? I’m not going to tell you. Let’s just say that you’re going to seriously regret being busy tonight.”
“I already regret it.”
Harper stomped her foot, giving me eyes that said hang up the damn phone.
“Alright, I have to go. I’ll—”
“Tomorrow. Are you busy tomorrow?”
I pushed up onto my elbows and frowned into the empty air. “No, why?”
“Have lunch with me. I . . . we need to talk.”
By that time I was sitting up on the bed, my fingers clenched in the comforter. “That sounds ominous.”
He let out a heavy sigh and I could picture him kneading his forehead. “There are things I want to tell you. Things I need to tell you. About me. About my life. I want to talk about us.”
Us.
For a moment, I stopped breathing. My mouth forgot how to form words.
“Will you come? Tomorrow?”
I shook myself, snapping back
into the moment. “Sure.”
“Great.” Relief flooded his voice. “I’ll let you go. I . . .”
My heart tripped as he trailed off. At the same time hoping and fearing that what I thought he was about to say would actually come out of his mouth.
“ . . . I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I disconnected the call and spent a minute staring at the dark screen. Had he been about to say that he loved me? No, that couldn’t be right. But what if he was? What if, against all odds, he’d actually gone and fallen in love with me? Holy crap. Something reached out and pinched my heart. For a second, I thought it was panic, but it wasn’t—it was hope. Immediately, my mind spun out into a thousand different directions, a million different ideas of things we could do to make this work.
Harper snapped a finger in front of my face. “Earth to Bianca. Time’s a-wasting.”
“Right, sorry. I’m gonna shower, give me fifteen minutes.”
“Good.” She nudged me in the shoulder. “And hey. There better be a big frickin’ smile on your face when you come out. That’s an order.”
I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“This is incredible,” I said, my gaze roaming around me, not bothering to waste any time landing on one particular thing.
“Right?” Harper ran a hand down the wall as we walked. “Who would’ve thought the Museum of Natural History would be such a fantastic place for a wedding? Not exactly the first place I’d imagine Elizabeth York getting married, but hey, who am I to judge?”
We lingered for a moment outside the reception doors. The wood vibrated from the music inside, the bass humming through the air and dancing over my skin. Harper’s friend had snuck us through a side entrance they’d been using, taking us through the back hallways and, at one point, shoving us into a deserted room as someone walked by. The whole thing was very James Bond.
Harper smoothed a hand over her hip. “How do I look?”
I took in her dress—a mix of black lace and cobalt beading. The dress rested nearly off her shoulders, with the neckline taking a deep V to a few inches above her belly button. It showed off an almost obscene amount of breast, which was offset by the floor-length skirt and long sleeves.
“I’d do you.” I took a step back in my indecently high black stilettos, grasping the black jersey knit skirt in my hand and drawing it to the side. “How about me?”
Compared to Harper’s dress, I was quite covered up. Embroidered pale pink flowers swirled up my arms and chest, crawling over the long-sleeved sheer overlay that covered the matching bodice. The full skirt was gathered high on my waist, the only bit of bare skin peeking out from the thigh-high front slit. I had to be careful with that or I’d be flashing everyone.
“Let’s trade. You can borrow my boobs if you let me take a spin on those legs.” She whistled under her breath.
I nudged her with my hip. “Next time, definitely.”
She laughed, at the same time reaching for the door handle. The reception was just starting, and no one paid any mind to us as we slipped through the door. Leaning toward me, she pressed her lips so close to my ear she was practically kissing it. “We’ll hang out by the bar since we don’t have a table. Get a feel for the place and then do a little dancing. Okay?”
I bent so that I could whisper-yell back in her ear. “What do we do if someone catches us?”
She barked out a laugh that was immediately sucked up in the noise of the room. “We’ll just tell them who you are. You’re practically a celebrity in your own right.”
I glared at her, which only earned me another laugh.
The trip to the bar was, thankfully, uneventful. Anyone who actually met our eyes gave us a small smile and kept right on their way. At an event this big, it was unlikely everyone would know everyone else, so we seemed to be flying under the radar.
Drink in hand, I leaned back against the bar top, letting my eyes feast on the gorgeousness of the venue. Towering ceilings, gigantic flower centerpieces, sweeping lights that flickered between aqua and lavender. All that seemed to pale in comparison next to the enormous blue whale that was suspended from the ceiling. A square, metal staircase was tucked in one corner, leading to a second floor that circled the entire room, exhibits spanning the entire distance.
We’d yet to see the bride, but given the number of people, I wasn’t surprised. Harper kept up a steady stream of chatter in my ear, pointing out people she thought I might know, and when I didn’t, giving me the gossip on them. She leveled a finger across the room, “The Averys, you know them, right? More money than God, owner of that big company?”
That name I actually did know. Last I heard, the senator had targeted them for a sizeable donation to his campaign. If I remembered correctly, there were two daughters, no sons, which probably meant intolerable girl talk rather than equally intolerable flirting in my future.
“Jack Avery,” I said. “Staunch Republican, net worth well over a billion, easy. He takes his scotch neat. We’ve got a bottle of Macallan set aside specifically for him.”
Harper snorted and took a swallow of her drink. “Elizabeth York you don’t know, but this guy?” Her eyes left mine and went back to scanning the room. “Shit. There’s Juliet St. Clair. She’s even more famous than Elizabeth York; you have to know her, right?”
I just shook my head, which made her groan.
Harper’s hand clamped like a vice around my arm. I thought for sure she was going to rip the delicate fabric of my sleeve. “Oh my God!” She took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Oh my God,” she said again, more quietly this time. “Please tell me you’ve heard of the Downfall.”
I wracked my brain. Hadn’t Renée said something about them once? I squinted one eye closed as I tried to remember. I wanted to say she had a thing for the drummer? “They’re a band?”
“They’re a band.” Harper scoffed. Her gaze swept around us to make sure no one was paying overly close attention to us. She turned so she was facing me and then hiked a thumb over her shoulder. “Straight back, behind me. Right by the edge of the dance floor, do you see them? I only saw three of them. I don’t know where number four is.”
I rocked up onto my tiptoes. “I can’t see.”
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, B. One look and you’ll have weeks’ worth of fantasies to get off on, I swear. C’mon.” She held out a hand for me, and I took it. We weaved through the clumps of people until we were skirting the dance floor. Bodies swayed to some up-tempo number, making our view to the other side sporadic at best.
“There!” Harper widened her eyes suggestively.
I followed her gaze, and when my eyes locked onto who she was pointing out . . . I died. At least the new Bianca, the one who’d been slowly crawling out of her shell and standing on her own two feet, did. The same Bianca who, only hours ago, had been finalizing her decision to stay in New York. Permanently.
Right there, in that moment, as time slowed and expanded so I could feel every single one of the million stitches of delicately constructed fabric that covered my skin, my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. Because not thirty feet away stood Ian—with Ben on one side, and Gavin on the other.
At some point, they’d all been wearing tuxedoes, but now, sleeves were rolled back, ties loosened, and jackets gone. Even from a distance I could pick out Ian’s tattoos as they swept up his right arm. My brain fought against the image. This was wrong. It had to be. Ian told me he was at his mom’s, hours away.
My eyes flicked across the dance floor again, trying to deny it, but he sure as hell wasn’t at his mom’s. And it wasn’t just that Ian lied to me about who he was; that he’d downplayed his job and called himself a “musician.” At least that was only a lie by omission, maybe even something I could understand if we’d never strayed past the casual relationship we’d agreed on.
None of that was the worst part.
No, what really got me, what gutted
my stomach like someone was carving it up with a steak knife, was the woman at his side—brunette, gorgeous, and wearing the most stunning gown I’d ever seen. It shimmered around her in a silver cloud, like day-old snowflakes tainted by car exhaust. His arm wrapped around her middle, hand resting on the swell of her hip. My eyes locked onto his hand, honed in on it, and for endlessly long seconds, it was the only thing I could see. She tilted her lips up to his ear, and then he laughed, smiling that smile down at her.
I had to force my stomach back down my throat, getting it back where it belonged. Blood roared in my ears, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I had to urge my heart to keep beating, even though every time it did, the broken shards dug a little deeper.
Somewhere to my left, Harper kept babbling, but I couldn’t latch onto a single word.
Still staring ahead, I said, “Ian.” It was a whisper, a plea, a resignation.
“Yeah.” Harper glanced up at me, her eyebrows drawing together so that her skin puckered into a line in the middle of her forehead. “I thought you didn’t know anything about the band?”
I wet my lips. “My Ian.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she tried to work it out. When they bugged out to nearly three times their size, I knew she’d puzzled it out. “That’s Ian? The Ian you’ve been dating is Ian fucking Mathis of the Downfall?”
I nodded, pinching my lips together as my eyes started to burn. No. No. I couldn’t do this here. I could handle this. I was stronger than that. Pinching my fingers on the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes for three heartbeats, got myself under control, and blew out a breath.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. “B? Bianca? Are you gonna pass out on me? You’re looking mighty pale.”
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice lacking any conviction. My face felt stiff, but I forced it into a smile. I could smile through anything. “I need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, no shit. You’re not the only one.”
The anger pulsating off her words crashed over me. “What’s the matter?”
“The matter?” Her eyes shot daggers at me. “This guy’s been jerking around my best friend, lying to her, and fucking around. Do you know how close I am to flying across this dance floor and introducing my knee to his nutsack?”
