The Note

by Natalie Wrye

  Such a sad coincidence that the ill-intentioned lawyer believed she could tear Noah and my connection to shreds by revealing my father’s past, not knowing that he had one of his own—a fact I still haven’t revealed to him after Marilyn confessed it all.

  Speaking of the devil…

  My cell phone shrieks as Noah and I enter the steepled chapel, and my heart tap dances a terrifying number as I glance down at it, expecting to see another text from Nancy and instead finding Noah’s name on my screen.

  His message practically screams at me.

  MEET ME IN THE CHURCH’S BACK BATHROOM. Right. Now.

  I can feel Noah’s breath near my hairline on my skin, he’s so close. But before I can turn to him, to address his text, Jesse is right beside me. Hiding my cell phone screen, I rotate towards him, my nerves still unsteady from the new news.

  Not to mention the sex that’s still on my skin.

  I inhale, breathing deeply, my chest hurting from the effort. I glance up at Jesse as he enters behind us, his brow still stuck in a knot. I reach a hand up to smooth my brother’s face.

  “Fix that frown. Or Marilyn will fix you.”

  “I know. But Soph, it’s…”

  “Still your wedding day. And nothing else matters.” I focus my eyes on his, marveling at the similarity in their shape to mine. I lower my fingers. “At least not for the next four hours.”

  His dark green eyes gleam. “Think I can keep news of my freak-out from Marilyn?”

  I shake my head. “Hell, no. This is Mare we’re talking about here. But that’s doesn’t mean you don’t have to try.”

  His jaw tilts. “Gahdammit. And I just signed up to attach myself to that little dirty-mouthed Nancy Drew for the rest of my life.”

  I hold in a light laugh. “Try to work that in your vows. In the meantime…” I can feel Noah’s eyes still on me, that text message still burning a hole in my hand.

  Especially when he reaches for my free hand, touching my fingertips to his lips. He rubs them there for a second, smoothing out my nerves with his touch.

  “I’m going to freshen up while you re-write those. Got any idea where the back bathroom is in this place?”

  Jesse points down the hallway. “Down that way until you reach the end then hang a left.”

  Gripping the skirt of my long lavender dress in one hand, I hurry down the hall, hanging the left until I’m standing right in front of the bathroom door, the other hand landing softly against the dark wood.

  I lean my forehead against the mahogany, taking a weighted breath, expelling it when I feel a touch, trailing down the tendrils of hair near my neck.

  I nearly jump in the air.

  “Fuck.”

  His voice is as clear as a bell when he responds. “Calm down, Little Bear. It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I rotate towards him. “But I almost hurt you. You were two seconds from being slapped.”

  He grins. “Wouldn’t be the first time that almost happened…” He glances towards the door at my back, his navy blue eyes dark and moody. “Let’s go inside.”

  I turn the knob, swinging the huge wooden slab to enter and look into the face of the most beautiful man I’ve still ever seen.

  Stormy blue eyes peek beneath a fan of dark lashes set in the middle of a chiseled face that could turn the strongest of women to stone. His dark eyebrows are straight and full—unmoving underneath a crown of carefully smoothed brown strands.

  The cinnamon and cedar locks hold themselves in carefully mussed place, and when I glance down towards the equally elegant tux, every ounce of oxygen in my body holds still.

  Noah is more than gorgeous; he’s ethereal in a dark tailored number that showcases the limestone cut build of his perfectly muscled body, and I am absolutely speechless, flabbergasted as to how any man can look this good.

  As far as I’m concerned, he is absolutely perfect.

  Until I see the disgruntled look on his handsome face.

  I frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” the amazingly tuxedo-clad rumbles out. “And nothing…when you look at me like you could eat me alive.”

  I shut the door behind me. “It’s hard not to, after what we just did in the limo.”

  “Ten more seconds of you looking that way at me, and those things we did won’t just be confined to the limo. But I’m trying to restrain myself here…We have more important—albeit way less interesting—things to talk about right now.”

  He attempts a smile, and I return one of my own.

  “How’s Jesse doing?” He asks.

  “Fine.” I try not to trip over the word. “Wonderful, actually. He’s marrying his dream girl.” I pause, analyzing the lines of Noah’s face, committing them to memory in the small dark room. I reach for his arm, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the fabric, wishing it were already on mine. “But how are you?”

  “Contemplating. And rightfully so. There’s so much going on…”

  He leaves the sentence hanging, and I nod.

  Because I know. Boy, do I know how much is going on under this one roof. How much is happening behind the scenes.

  Nancy is on her way, and I don’t know how to keep the secret about her father’s demise. Or even if I need to, in case she already knows.

  My own boyfriend happens to share a father with my soon-to-be sister-in-law and the secrets are piling up, draping themselves over my back as my body threatens to buckle under the weight.

  Days after Jase’s wedding, Marilyn had called me, her normally chipper voice subdued, even somber as resignation rung in her tone, an unknown secret threading itself through her words.

  I sat down, unable to do anything else as she told me.

  “I knew it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. But I knew I’d seen a watch just like the one you described. And when you guys recovered it from that prick Rick, I knew it was true.” She exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “There are only two like it in the world…and my brother Heath owns the other one. Not to mention the inscription on both: To my loving son. The carved initials of F.S. would have tipped the truth over the scale, but then when I met Noah for the first time, I remember seeing his face there.” Her blue eyes glaze over. “At the funeral. At the cemetery. For my father’s burial a few months before. And that’s when all the pieces fell together.”

  And right now, all I can do is wish they would stay scattered a little while longer. Because frankly? I can’t take the pressure of holding in all the skeletons.

  The only thing secret-keeping was good for was my figure…because basically, I was unable to eat.

  And right now in the bathroom outside my brother’s wedding, I’m sure Noah can see the worry in my eyes. He reaches for me.

  “And how are you?”

  “Other than the fact, I’m holding secrets back from the closest people to me? I’m just fine and perfect.”

  Raising his chin, he twirls a curly lock of my hair, sliding it across his finger, mesmerizing me with its sheen.

  I have to fight to keep from gasping as his playful lips spread into a grin. He peers over at me, his smile bright.

  “I’m just glad I won’t have to keep one of my secrets for much longer.”

  A glint enters into his blue eye, rendering me speechless. But the question on my lips slides into a speedy death as someone knocks on the center of the closed bathroom door, a voice ringing out shortly after.

  A voice I know more than most.

  Nancy.

  “Everything okay in there? I came over here to look for you, Soph. But then I heard two voices behind the door. Kinky.”

  Noah calls out. “We’re fine in here, TSA. No ignitable substances are in here, I swear.”

  I swing an eyebrow upwards, staring at him. “Are you sure about that?”

  And with that he leans closer. “You can talk to Miss Gloves-On for a second. I’ll give you both a few minutes.”

  And with that, we kiss, only for him to ex
it seconds later, a smile on my face as Noah faces me, his handsome grin smug. Nancy enters as he leaves, her ruby dress matching her smiling lips as she whistles over her shoulder, her voice a hiss.

  “Were you guys doing the nasty?” She asks.

  “Would that be any of your business?”

  “It would. If I’m going to touch any surface in this bathroom. I need to know what I’m getting myself in to.” She smirks. “Is everything okay? Just wanted to check on you two. Jesse told me Noah was coming up behind you. Maybe even followed you in.”

  “Everything’s okay now. Better, actually.” I attempt a smile. “Now that you showed up.”

  “Now, you’re not just saying that to butter me up, are you?”

  “If I say yes, would you let me?”

  “Depends on what the butter is made of…and which Hemsworth brother is smearing it on.”

  I look deeply into the eyes of the woman I’ve grown to love and respect, a pixie powerhouse, hugging her despite it all, needing her comfort almost more than she needs mine.

  With her warm smile and bright eyes, she appears so much like her brother. Protective and Proud.

  And it takes everything in me not to tell her. Not to confess that I know what happened to her father and who’s the man responsible.

  But when I wrap my arms around her, I can’t help but feel the shape of the paper in her pocket, jutting just outside the lines of her dress. She pulls back, glancing over at me with a wicked grin, and I know that I’m prepared to face whatever else is on the other side of the skeletons in our closet.

  When she pulls out the note and hands it to me, I’m unprepared.

  Not daring to question the undaunted look in her eyes, I unfold the white square, starting slow.

  I read the writing, my eyes scanning back and forth, feverish to figure out what the hell’s going on.

  I’m even more confused when I see my name at the top.

  My breath catches in my esophagus.

  * * *

  Sophia,

  Believe me when I say this:

  I never meant for this to happen.

  But I swore, one day, I would find a way to pay you back.

  Pay you back…for all that you’ve done to me.

  If you’re reading this, then I’m hoping that Jesse didn’t pull out the emergency story.

  The one where, in order to save time, he pretends that something awful happened…

  Something to distract you from the truth.

  (Please, if he did this, don’t even tell me what the story was. I heard his ideas. They’re just as awful as the false news he planned on pitching to buy time.)

  Truth is?

  Jesse + Marilyn rescheduled their wedding.

  Marilyn’s still shooting overtime on that new successful season of hers. And Jesse is still trying to make things work with your father.

  And speaking of fathers, I should have told you about mine long ago.

  I know that you know.

  And honestly?

  I should have told you weeks ago. Because I know you don’t care about who my father is or was, just in the same I’ve chosen not to care who’s yours.

  Because you, Miss Somerset: You are more than your past.

  You are a magnificent friend. A beautiful sister. A brilliant painter.

  A dreamer. And a fairytale believer.

  Most importantly, after today, I’m hoping you’ll agree to be something else…

  My wife.

  Consider this an I.O.U.

  P.S.

  You were right. You’re not the liar.

  I am…

  Signed,

  Big Bad Wolf

  * * *

  One tear falls to the page as I finish the note. A flawless princess cut diamond taped to the bottom of the paper catches the brunt of the small fall, and I wipe the salty drop with my finger, barely finding the oxygen to breathe as I remove the glittering diamond from the page.

  When I glance up, Nancy’s sneaking out, making way for someone else.

  There’s a hint of a smirk on his full mouth, a twinkle in his eye that matches the ring. Tuxedo on, dark hair carefully mussed, he stands from where he was leaning against the doorframe, making every part of my body clench.

  Sublime in everything he wears, he is other-worldly now in his dark suit. Bow tie tight, shoulders square, he moves towards me, royalty in motion, looking every ounce of the “Prince in the Tower” that I painted in his image.

  A painting that even now I still won’t sell to the Dweller gallery.

  Being a full-time contributor now to the Dweller Gallery after their job offer had its perks; choosing which paintings I allowed them to sell them was another one, just another cog in the machine of my artistic dreams.

  Dreams I was currently living.

  Especially as Noah gazes down at me.

  He kisses my forehead with one touch. “You ready to do this? I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you, Sophia Somerset. Please… Be my wife.”

  And that’s when I realize: I am ready.

  Ready to be a friend to Nancy or Drew. A sister to Jesse. A painter. A dreamer. A fairy-tale believer.

  And from what I just read from Noah, a beautiful man’s fiancée.

  I hold my head high, ready to enter the next stage of my life with a man who makes some secrets worth keeping.

  I won’t tell him that this I.O.U. is so much better than mine ever could be.

  Not for these next few hours, anyway.

  I won’t interrupt this fairytale for anything.

  Not with Nancy ushering us out of the small bathroom and into the church hall to the happy applause of our friends and family.

  Noah drops to one under the stained glass, and I’m just about to answer “yes.”

  That is, until I notice Nancy slapping my brother in the corner, a frustrated look on her face as she harangues him. The small crowd stares at the small interaction.

  Including me.

  “My dad, Jess? Really?” She asks.

  “I couldn’t think of anything else. And I panicked. For some reason, your dad was the first thing that came to my mind. Maybe because I was thinking of my own… I never thought the other rumor would actually be true. I assumed it was hearsay.”

  But by now, Noah’s off his knee, walking beside me, moving fast. The ring’s now in his hand, and instantly I feel like a phantom limb is missing from my finger.

  But it’s hard to start your fairytale when one is unraveling before your eyes, and I march closer to Nancy and my brother, my brows twisting together the entire way. I feel Noah at my back, his hands on my shoulders, warming me with their touch.

  I can’t help but scoff at the scene.

  “You guys have great timing. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, just what the hell is going on? And no stories, for Chrissake. I’ve heard enough of them for a lifetime. Just spit it out.”

  Nancy turns to me first. “Jesse’s story about Chris Jackson and my father isn’t true, Fee. My father died of a heart attack months ago. That was a ruse. But I’m guessing you know that now from Noah’s note.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “The problem is…the other info Jesse threw out there is true. Your father’s safe in the halfway house. But the rumors last night about a prison break? Those are true. It’s been confirmed. Chris Jackson, along with two other inmates, broke out of prison last night. And now he’s on the lam.”

  Secrets beget secrets.

  If anybody could have told my friends and family that little fact, it was me. But I was learning my lesson.

  I’d landed the man of my dreams, found my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow because of the same crimes that almost cost my would-be fiancé his own company.

  All because of one man…

  Chris Jackson.

  What a way to kick off my own fairytale. While our own real-life villain was now out of prison and on the run.

  Even with the word “yes” still on the tip of my
lips, I can’t help but feel like Chris Jackson’s escape just laid another piece down on our yellow brick road.

  Noah helped me believe in fairytales. But because of all Chris Jackson had done, I knew our friends’ and family’s wasn’t over.

  Taking the titan down was going to be much harder than any of us could have imagined.

  Ready for more heated Manhattan Nights?

  * * *

  Find out what happens when one shocking revelation leaves Nancy’s professional and personal life dangling by a thin thread and the only person to save both is the one man she can’t trust: her secret-keeping employee Drew in THE LIE (coming early 2021).

  * * *

  OR...

  * * *

  Hop on to a quick trip to Chicago to find out what happens when Noah’s lawyer Emily meets the new neighbor making her life a living Hell: baseball MVP Sevin Smith in THE PLAY.

  * * *

  The yellow brick road continues on the next page.

  * * *

  Read on for a SNEAK PEEK of THE PLAY!

  Sneak Peek of THE PLAY

  EMILY

  Thursday night

  The more Sevin moves his mouth against my neck and collarbone, the more his slightly calloused hands caress my lower back and hips, the more difficult it is to remember wanting anything outside of him.

  I make a final attempt. “Sevin, it’s hard to talk when you’re doing this.”

  “Then maybe you should think less about talking…” His fingers roam lower. “And more about this.”

  “This what?”

  “This.”

  And then his fingers find their mark.