“Yes, please.” My shoulders sink in relief.
The beads at the ends of her black braids clink together softly as we make our way down the hall, and she turns to me, a smile on her face. “So you’ve discovered the power of Gabriel’s name?”
“I guess so.” I resist the urge to cover my mouth as the powerful stench of antiseptic fills my nostrils as we pass by a room being cleaned. “Is it, um, okay that I’m here?”
“Oh, sure,” she beams. “We’ve had several requests for the Wedding Lady.”
My heart lifts in my chest. “Really?” They actually remembered me? Liked me? “That’s so good to hear.”
“He’s never brought a woman with him before,” she says, slowing down as we approach Kaia’s room. “Not even this supposed fiancee of his.”
I let out a weak chuckle, not sure how to respond, but she leaves me to it, her dark eyes full of kindness as she circles back to the nurse’s station.
I knock hesitantly on the door, though there’s no need as Kaia’s gaze lands on me.
“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me-”
“You’re Mackenzie. Gabriel’s friend.”
Right. Just his friend.
I step inside, my heels loud on the tile floor, and quickly take a seat next to her, noticing her mom isn’t here this time. “How are you doing?”
“My knee itches,” she states bluntly, lifting her left leg under the covers. “Will you itch it?”
“Oh, of course.” I lean forward and scratch, trying not to stare at how painfully slight she is. “Is that better?”
She nods, her brown eyes seemingly bigger with no brows. But when she smiles, that adorable gap in her bottom teeth on display, you forget about anything she may have lost temporarily.
“Do you have a crush on Gabriel?” she whispers excitedly, completely derailing my thoughts.
“Um, what now?”
“He came here Sunday morning.”
I shake the cobwebs from my mind, trying to get up to speed with her wild changes in topic. “Doesn’t he visit on Fridays?”
“He does. But he made a special trip. And he asked what I thought of you.”
Sunday morning… He must have asked me to lunch right afterward. And later that night, I went over to his apartment. “What… what did you say?” Oh my God, am I actually nervous about what an eight year old girl thinks of me?
Yes. Yes, I am.
“I said he should marry you instead. But then he got this sad look on his face and started talking about other stuff. But I’m not a baby. I know he has a crush on you.”
I ignore the way the butterflies are swirling in my stomach, but can’t help the small smile that creeps over my lips.
“And you do too.”
God, did I ever have such blatant confidence at her age? “Maybe a tiny one,” I admit, biting my lip.
“You two doing okay?” the nurse from earlier asks, sticking her head in the door.
“We’re fine, Ruby,” Kaia sighs, practically shooing her out of the room.
“Stay hydrated,” she says, motioning to a styrofoam cup on the tray next to her.
Kaia grumbles but makes a big show of grabbing it and slurping from the straw loudly.
When Ruby’s gone from sight, she sets it down again, turning to me with eager eyes. “You should tell Gabriel you love him. That way he can marry you.”
Wait, how did we jump from a crush to love? I came here to get out of my head, not burrow down deep and make things worse.
“It’s not that easy, sweetie. There are a lot of complicated factors...” I trail off, knowing I can’t explain it all to an eight year old. “Being an adult is hard sometimes,” I shrug, giving her a soft smile. “You don’t always get what you want.”
She stares at me, her eyes seeming to gain a weight that someone her age shouldn’t have. But this isn’t just any girl. She’s facing cancer every day, facing death. “I’ve learned here that life can be really short. You can’t waste it.”
I bite my lip so I won’t cry at her words. “That’s such good advice, Kaia. Thank you.”
I’m not wasting my life, though. Right? Working toward my dreams? My goals? That’s worthy of a few sacrifices along the way.
And I’ve had this dream for infinitely longer than the amount of time I’ve known Gabriel. Besides that, he’s got his own reasons for keeping his marriage to Serena on track.
I stay another twenty minutes, sticking to non-Gabriel topics, and make my goodbyes, but on the subway ride home and long walk up my building’s stairwell, I can’t seem to shake her words. My visit somehow ended up with me more muddled than before.
If any woman I knew asked me what was more important - her dreams or a man - I’d laugh in her face and tell her that no man is worth giving anything up for.
So why is the same advice to myself so much harder to take?
Chapter Twenty
Gabriel
“Another drink, sir?”
I pause in my crossing of the strip- I’m sorry, gentlemen’s club’s main floor to glance at the cocktail waitress, her low-cut black top and matching miniskirt doing everything in its power to lure me into buying more drinks from her, but I decline.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I tell her, holding up a tumbler still a quarter full.
“I’ll be waiting if you need anything else,” she murmurs throatily.
Am I imagining it or did she heavily emphasize the word anything?
I continue on my way to where my brooding brother sits in the corner, his index finger idly stroking the rim of his whiskey.
“For a best man, you sure don’t seem to be having the best time.”
I take a seat next to Archer, away from the pounding bass of the music blaring at the T-shaped stage. A lovely woman named Crystal Waters is slowly removing her minuscule top, the act more dignified than I was expecting considering where we’re at.
I believe the main attraction of this particular club is the high-end escorts more than the strippers, but I won’t be partaking of either. Like I told Mackenzie, there’s only one woman I’m interested in.
“This wasn’t my idea,” he mumbles, taking a long draw from his glass.
“And yet, you gave Beau and Parker free rein in planning tonight.”
We went to prep school with both of them a decade ago, and while I hung out with them more in my early twenties, we’ve drifted apart the last few years.
“I thought you were friends with them. That they’d know what you’d like.”
I watch the two of them sitting at the stage, their eyes glued to Crystal’s assets. They’re both married, but that apparently wasn’t a factor in choosing to come here tonight.
“Maybe five years ago. But I haven’t spoken to either of them recently.”
“Oh.” I peek over at my older brother, the slightest hint of embarrassment on his face. “So who do you hang out with now?”
I sink further down in the soft leather of my seat, taking another sip from my tumbler, enjoying the burn of the alcohol as it trickles down my throat. “No one really. Not lately.” Not counting gorgeous hazel-eyed wedding planners, that is.
My old acquaintances just don’t hold the same appeal. I’ve tried going to parties in an attempt to recapture the same high I used to chase. People wanting me - for my status, my looks, my money.
Maybe I’ve outgrown it, though.
“When I got the text saying where the bachelor party was, I didn’t think you’d actually show.”
“I’m the best man,” he says, straightening his cufflinks. I can’t remember the last time I saw him out of a suit.
“It’s not really your scene.”
He sighs. “I’m starting to see it’s not yours either.”
Parker and Beau, along with the other assortment of guys they’ve invited, hoot and holler at a new girl on stage, her shimmery gold bikini and see-through skirt giving off some heavy Princess Leia vibes.
“No,” I say simply, l
eaving it at that.
“I realized when I went to plan it that I… I don’t know much about you, do I?”
I look over, his blue eyes trained on me. I shrug, not sure what he wants me to say.
“Connor told me off.”
“What?”
“I didn’t realize the best man was responsible for this kind of thing. He asked what I was doing for you and when I said nothing he got mad.”
I smile, imagining our little brother getting heated over something like this. Defending others always gets him worked up.
“But I didn’t have the first clue what to do. Didn’t even realize you aren’t friends with them anymore. I- I’m sorry I’m a shitty best man.”
What the hell brought this on? He’s only had one whiskey in the twenty minutes we’ve been here. He can’t be drunk rambling already. “Archer, I don’t care about having a bachelor party.”
“I mean with everything. The whole… wedding.”
Or does he mean the whole last however many years of him overlooking me? Letting Dad take the brunt of his disappointment out on me?
“What brought on this introspection?” I take a sip of my bourbon, ignoring the girl that saunters by looking for us to buy a lap dance from her.
“Connor. He’d be a lot better tonight, wouldn’t he?”
“He’s not here. But you are.”
He frowns, that ever present wrinkle of his forming between his brows. “He can’t. He’s in the Philippines.”
“What I mean, dummy, is that you still showed up. Even though you didn’t want to. I appreciate it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
He relaxes some, taking another drink. “So how are things going with you and…”
God, he can’t even remember her name. Doesn’t that just speak volumes about the whole situation?
“Serena,” I supply helpfully. “They’re not, but whatever.”
“You’re not getting along?”
“We’re not talking. Period.”
“But you’re marrying her in two days.”
“I told you, it’s in name only.” She’ll have the last name Bishop. The one she wanted to begin with, even if it’s attached to the wrong brother.
He makes a hmm noise, and we sit in mutual silence for a few minutes before the set changes again, another girl up on stage now shaking her ass for everything it’s worth.
“Would I offend you if I leave?” I ask, not sure how much more of this I can take.
“God, no,” he says, setting his glass down and standing. “I’ll, uh, see you at the rehearsal?”
“Yep.”
I hightail it out of there, Archer hot on my heels, and shake my arms out as I step outside, as if the action will rid me of the sad desperation that place reeked of.
“You want a ride back home?” he asks, already on his phone to call his driver.
“Nah, I’ll walk.”
“Walk?” He looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. He has a strict elliptical routine in his home gym he abides by, but heaven forbid he actually walk around New York City.
“Yeah,” I grin. “Just need to clear my mind.”
“Suit yourself.”
I wander, keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact with anyone I pass, thinking about him questioning who I am and how I’ve changed. Does he still see me as Dad does? An angry teenager looking to rage against the circumstances of his life? While Mom’s death made me act out, his reaction seemed to be to suppress anything he was feeling.
Is it just time that changed me? A maturation with age? Or was it… Mackenzie? The woman that’s making me realize those things that used to be part of my identity just aren’t as significant. The luxury apartment. The closet of custom-fit designer clothes. Hobnobbing with other socialites. Not that they were ever particularly important to me, but yes, they made up how I defined myself. How others defined me.
But maybe I can redefine things.
I continue walking, contemplating calling Connor, but I don’t want to weigh him down with my existential thoughts. Besides, he’s working. It’s mid-morning for him overseas and he has responsibilities. Duties. An actual job.
Not like me. The only thing I’m good for is marrying me off to someone.
About fifteen minutes later, I realize I’m only three blocks away from the bakery Mackenzie and I sampled wedding cake at, and steer left, suddenly hungry for something more substantial than bourbon.
I try the door but it’s locked, and spying through the glass I spot the owner, Laura, bustling behind the counter, wiping at the surfaces with a rag and disinfectant.
I knock tentatively, hating to be that person who assumes store hours don’t apply to them, but it’s only a few minutes past the closing time posted on the window and I did place a pretty pricey order with her and all. Two specialty five-tier cakes from a New York bakery don’t come cheap.
Not that I can’t afford it.
“Sorry, we’re closed- Oh, Mr. Bishop!” She rushes over and unlocks the door. “Is something wrong with your cake order? Did you change your mind?”
“No, no. I actually wanted to buy some cake to eat tonight.”
“Of course,” she beams, letting me in.
There’s not much of a selection left at this time of night, but I still snag what’s remaining, not too picky at this point.
I text Davis my location and wait at the curb for him to pick me up, sampling a bite of the delectable espresso cream cheese brownie. And when I get in the car fifteen minutes later, it’s not my address I give him.
It’s just my luck to grab the open door of Mackenzie’s apartment building as someone’s exiting, their lack of concern over someone they don’t recognize entering somewhat disturbing. In my building, no one is allowed that doesn’t belong there.
There are new unidentifiable stains on the fourth floor landing this time, but at least the sticky residue along the banister has vanished. Or maybe just absorbed into it, who knows.
I stare at the large spider chilling in the upper corner of the wall outside her door after I knock, but all my attention is on the woman of my dreams once she answers, dressed in yoga pants and an oversized gray T-shirt, hair up in a messy bun on top of her head and face free of makeup. I’ve never seen her so casual.
Or more beautiful.
“Gabriel,” she exclaims in surprise, her instinctive happiness easing that small part within me that was afraid to show up here without asking first. But sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. “You’re supposed to be… somewhere tonight. Where are you supposed to be?” She grabs her planner out of her purse by the door and thumbs it open. “Your bachelor party.”
“You have my bachelor party scheduled in there?”
“Everything is in here,” she says, holding it up. “You know that.”
“Archer and I made our appearances and left.”
“And you decided to come here?” she asks softly, leaning against the doorframe. She hasn’t invited me in, but at least hasn’t asked me to leave. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.
“This was the only place I wanted to be,” I tell her honestly. There’s nothing for me at home. Nadia promptly cleaned up any trace that Mackenzie was ever there.
Her eyes take on a sad understanding, but before she can tell me I’ve pushed it too far, I hold up the bag with Laura’s logo on the side. “And I come bearing gifts.”
Her gaze switches to the bag, expression morphing into one of contained delight. “What’s in there?”
“Well, they were sold out of all your salted caramel stuff, but I was able to snag a key lime cupcake, slice of oreo cheesecake, raspberry walnut wafer, and coconut macaroon.”
“I thought you didn’t like coconut,” she murmurs, already sticking her hand in the bag to claim the cupcake. She remembered that about me?
“Yeah, but you do.”
She pauses in removing the wrapper from her treat, looking u
p at me somberly. “Gabriel-”
“I’m not here to rehash that,” I interrupt her, not ready for her to tell me again why we can’t be together, why being here tonight is a bad idea. “I’m just here to share some dessert with you.”
She nods, stepping back from the door to let me in, and makes her way to the couch where her laptop is open on the coffee table, curling her legs up underneath her. Is there ever a time she isn’t working?
“Am I interrupting anything?”
“Just catching up on some work. I actually got an email from a previous client. It’s their six month wedding anniversary, and she reached out to tell me how special her wedding day was and how grateful she was for everything I did for them.” She gives a soft smile, face glowing. “It was exactly what I needed to hear. To remind me why I love what I do. Why it’s worth it. I make dreams come true.”
Just not her own.
Or mine.
She takes a dainty bite of her cupcake, wiping at the corner of her mouth before saying, “You know the schedule for tomorrow?”
Like I need reminding. “Yep.”
“Did you, um, want me to go with you-”
“No.” I don’t need Mackenzie reminded yet again of my impending marriage. Tomorrow morning, nine a.m. sharp, Serena and I have an appointment to get our marriage license. I’ve kept putting it off, this part of the wedding planning more real than picking out a cake or choosing a band. This is legal. Binding.
Forever.
But it’s not like I can ignore it much longer. The wedding is the day after tomorrow.
A whole body shudder runs through me, and I chase the sour notion away with a bite of sweet wafer cookie. What will my life be like just two nights from now?
She gets up to grab forks from the kitchen and hands one to me as a sudden thought occurs to me. “Will I see you again after this?”
She stills. “What?”
“After Saturday. Will we still be… friends?”
Once the wedding is over, there’s technically no more reason for us to interact.
She sits down carefully next to me and spears a bite of cheesecake, taking her time chewing before replying. “I don’t know,” she says honestly, meeting my eye. “But I’d like to be. Even if we can’t…” She swallows, staring down at her dessert. “Be together, you’re still important to me.”
Resisting the Billionaire Page 19
