Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  I wanted to tell Tyler, but Ryder asked me not to. He was embarrassed, I get it, but I hate keeping secrets from Tyler. Mainly because I know how much Ty hates secrets.

  But this isn't my secret to tell. Plus, Ryder promised to tell him when the time was right. Hopefully that moment will come along soon because every time I look at Megan, my heart is reminded that I'm lying by omission to the man I love.

  "I'm sorry, I'm just preoccupied by a few things."

  Her apology and explanation are forced. If something really is going on with her, it's probably of her own doing. I'm tempted to ask about her situation, mainly to see if she'd tell the truth, but I refrain. I promised Ty that things were going to be peaceful tonight, that I had things under control. I'd hate for him to hear otherwise.

  Instead, I nod at Megan and wave the waitress over. If I'm going to survive a few more hours with her indiscretions eating away at me, I might as well do it with a buzz.

  When I slip away from the group into the ladies’ room, Emerson follows.

  "What am I doing wrong?" she asks, checking her makeup in the mirror as I wash my hands.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The whole point of inviting her tonight was to show her that I'm a good person. We need to be civil to each other if I'm going to be a part of Ryder's life. I was even hoping that maybe we could be friends one day. It's like she doesn't care if I like her or not."

  "It's because she's a raging bitch most of the time to keep people from getting to know her. She wasn't always that way. She used to be friendly, social. We hung out a little when Ty and I first started dating, and she was actually really nice to me."

  "What happened to her, then? Because I'm pretty sure I can't be any nicer or try any harder to get her to like me."

  Emerson's right. Her efforts are wasted on someone who wants the people around her to be as miserable as she is.

  Megan is needy, but she also needs to feel needed. Her big change came after Ryder threatened to leave her the first time. She hadn't cheated on him yet, as far as I know, but there were signs that she was headed in that direction. Him pushing her away was like flipping a switch.

  I was expecting her to become clingy. You know the type. The one who hangs all over their husband like she can't breathe without touching him. The women who check to make sure things are okay with the man in their life before committing to anything.

  Can't go out unless he's okay with it.

  Shopping? Let me check with the husband first.

  Nope.

  She went the opposite direction.

  Megan became more independent. She stopped coming out with us as a group. She made no effort to contact anyone other than Allison, who I'm sure was a big influence behind her change. When she did go out, it was always with a small group of girls, like tonight.

  It always felt like we were her cover story for what her real game plan was. She never drank too much, always had her eyes on her phone or her watch, and never engaged in conversation until right before she left. Like she had somewhere else to be before she went home.

  Just like tonight.

  "She changed when things between her and Ryder started to get bad. I'm sure some of it was self-preservation, but that wasn't all of it. The cheating rumor wasn't just a rumor. It was true. Ryder caught them. I'm sure he told you. If you really want to be friends with her, be careful. She's manipulative and all it takes is one missed step for her to turn on you."

  Emerson's eye grow wide in surprise as she lets my warning soak in. I didn't mean to scare her, but I also have to watch her back for her. Her vision is clouded by love. I get that she thinks being friends with Megan will make life easier for everyone involved, mainly Amara, but it could have the opposite effect.

  "Thanks, Ang. One more drink before we call it a night?" she asks, opening the bathroom door and ushering me through.

  "One. Two. Hell, I could go for three more if you can stay."

  Emerson lifts her eyebrow at me suspiciously. She can always tell when something is wrong and although nothing is actually wrong tonight, I feel like letting loose.

  It's been a trying week. The wedding is stressing me out and I want to kick back, hang out with my friends, and relax for a bit. I'll talk about anything except the wedding. Every time someone brings it up, my heart stops and I think about the thousands of dollars we're about to spend.

  It's an eight-hour affair.

  It shouldn't cost as much as it's going to.

  The venue I want... top notch. High dollar. Gorgeous. Thank god it includes catering.

  The photographer... best in the city. No one compared to the guy I want. He's honed his craft and his vision aligns with mine perfectly.

  Once I started adding up the little things this morning is when my heart stopped beating in my chest. From flowers to centerpieces. The booze. The DJ. The table linens. Invitations. Honeymoon.

  "Ang? You okay?"

  Emerson's voice cuts through the haze. The panic attack I felt coming on is still threatening to assault me full force. It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest, and it's hard to breathe.

  "Tell me what's wrong so I can help," she says, taking my hand and pulling me to the closest table, forcing me into a chair.

  "It's nothing," I say, my words coming out strangled.

  "I'd say it's something if you can barely talk."

  "The wedding’s just..."

  "A lot for one person to handle."

  "That and, well..."

  I can't bring myself to say it. Money is such a stupid thing to worry about. I have money. Ty has money. We're not desperate and we're far from broke. Even after the wedding, we'll be living comfortably. I'm not sure why I'm so worried about what everything costs.

  "It is your parents?"

  "No. It's," I start. Taking a deep breath, I let the words flow as I exhale. "Money. It's all so expensive."

  Em tilts my chin up so I'm looking her square in the eyes.

  "I get it. I'm here to help if you need me. I don't think it's the money that's overwhelming you, Ang. I think it's the pressure you're putting on yourself to plan this on your own. There's a reason people hire other people to do this. It's a lot of work. It's exhausting. And it's stressful."

  Damn straight. If I wasn't such a control freak, I'd have hired someone else.

  "Thank you," I say, pulling her in for a hug. "I love you, you know that?"

  "That's good, since I'm about to force you to talk about the wedding some more once we get back to the table."

  "Um, no. I'm good. I swear."

  "Yeah, but the girls and I have a few ideas for your bachelorette party," she replies, releasing me and walking away without another word.

  Smart girl.

  If she had stayed, I would have begged her not to bring it up. The bachelorette is the one thing I was planning on avoiding talking about tonight. Not that I don't think it could be fun to hang out with my friends for a night of planned activities. That would be an epic night.

  Knowing Allison and Megan are sitting at the table is what worries me. That means Em's already invited both of them on whatever excursion she's thinking about.

  "So, the last weekend in March it is, then," I hear Justine say as I slide into my seat.

  "Where are we going?" I ask, taking a long, slow pull on my drink.

  "That's for us to know and you to find out later. Don't worry about it. We've got it covered." Allison has a sly smile on her face as her words, more chipper than normal, flow easily from her tongue.

  Yes, I'm screwed.

  Looking to Emerson for support, she smiles at me and nods her head in agreement.

  I've suddenly developed a fear of many things as my mind takes a roller coaster ride of the many places we could be headed. Mainly strip clubs. I'm sure they’re at the top of Allison's list of places to take me.

  Chapter Nine

  Ang stumbled in a little after two in the morning. Emerson was kind enough to make sure she made it all th
e way up the stairs before depositing her in our bed, waking me up in the process.

  My plan had been to wait up for her.

  When the clock struck midnight and Ang wasn't home yet, I sent her a text.

  ME: Coming home soon? We have unfinished business.

  ANG: Yeah baby. Be there soon.

  ME: You drunk?

  ANG: Maybe...

  Yep. She was definitely drunk. Ang is always straightforward with me. She'd never make me 'guess' her state of intoxication.

  ME: Please don't drive.

  ANG: Em took my keys and said she was taking me home with her.

  With her? Doubtful. I'm sure that's what Ang heard, not what Emerson said. Just to be sure, I sent Emerson a text.

  ME: What time are you bringing my fiancée home?

  EMERSON: As soon as I can wrangle her. Should be soon.

  ME: Thank you for taking care of her.

  EMERSON: She was my responsibility long before she was yours. I've done this before. She might be a tad bit heavier when drunk, but I can hold my own.

  Staring at Ang now, sleeping peacefully, I'm afraid to wake her. I tried to wake her an hour ago and she swung at me, her fist grazing my jaw as I pulled my head back.

  That what I get for trying to be cute and wake her up with kisses on her neck. I know better. She tends to get a little testy when she's hung over, but she also needs to get moving. Shaking her softly, I wait for her to pop one eye open before I say anything.

  "Take these and drink this."

  Ang grunts at me as I set the glass of water and pills on the bedside table.

  "It's so bright in here," she whines, blindly reaching for the pills.

  "That's because it's nine o'clock already."

  "Two more hours and I promise to get up."

  "How about twenty minutes since you have a meeting with the venue in two hours."

  Ang shoots straight up in bed, gripping her head and wincing in pain. "That's today?"

  "She called this morning and has to leave town for a funeral tomorrow, so she asked if you could meet with her today."

  "Shit," she replies, popping the two aspirin in her mouth and taking a sip of water.

  Heading downstairs to make Ang a cup of coffee, I think about the days and weeks we have ahead of us. All the details we have left to decide on.

  Hunter asked me if I was getting nervous the other day. I laughed. Not at him, but at the thought of being nervous.

  Dixon men don't normally do things they're not certain of. We're not easily scared or persuaded into things. We've each had our moments, Ryder more than any of us, but they're few and far between.

  Marrying Angela is a decision I'll never question. Sure, marriage is hard work, but it shouldn't feel like work.

  I've watched my parents make it work for almost forty years. Never once have they made it look hard. Sure, they've fought, disagreed, and even went days without speaking. They're both level-headed but stubborn people.

  They also love each other wildly. You can see it in their eyes, even when they fight. There was never a time I thought they wouldn't make it. Not because they're my parents but because through everything, the ups and downs, the highs and lows, they've been there for each other, even when they didn't agree with the other person.

  When my father wanted to move here, to start his own firm, my mother made him write her a business plan before she agreed to it. She needed to see his vision to be able to understand it.

  You see, they make decisions together. They don't keep secrets from each other. They share what's on their minds, hence why they fight from time to time, and respect the other person's opinion.

  The one thing they never do is doubt each other.

  Although my mother didn't think my father’s plan was solid enough—yes, she told him as much—she agreed to move here so he could pursue his dream. She knew he would work hard to achieve it, and he knew she would be there to support him any way she could.

  That's where we came in.

  My father couldn't do it alone and my mother made the call before he fell flat on his face.

  Before Ryder, Hunter, and I joined the firm, my father was a one-man show. Solo. Aside from Helen, his secretary and office manager, my father did everything.

  Hunter was the first to push his way in the door. By push, I mean he literally had to push my father to let him join. It wasn't a question of whether or not Hunter could handle the job, it was more about my father's pride. He didn't want Hunter to stop living his dream to help my father achieve his.

  Ryder was next.

  That was an interesting meeting from what Hunter says. Ryder showed up, announced he was married and that Megan was pregnant. He was staying and putting down roots.

  Hunter was kicked out of the office after that. He heard screaming. According to Ryder, there was a discussion about finances and his lack of a prenuptial agreement.

  The next day Ryder was moving into Hunter's office.

  By the time I came knocking, my father stopped putting up a fight. Instead, he moved Dixon Advertising to a larger office and began delegating work. It's been smooth sailing from that point on.

  Through everything, my mother was by my father's side, pushing him to make the best decisions he could and helping him up before he could fall. She's an amazing woman.

  Ang reminds me of her in a lot of ways. She's always supported me. She's strong and confident. The big difference between Angela and my mother... Ang will never not speak her mind. She doesn't sugarcoat things when I screw up. She's a straight shooter, and that's the type of person I need in my life.

  "Where's my coffee?" Ang asks from behind me.

  Blinking a few times, I realize I'm standing in front of the coffee pot, I have the filter lining the basket but that's as far as I got. I was so lost in thought I never started brewing coffee.

  Chuckling to myself, I finish what I started and hit brew.

  "Two minutes and you'll have the best cup of coffee you've ever had," I promise her with a smile on my face.

  "Uh, huh. It took you twenty minutes to start the coffee maker. Are you sure you're not the one with a hangover? Or maybe you're getting the wedding jitters since I'm about to secure the venue."

  She's teasing me. There's a huge smile on her face and laughter in her voice. Stepping up to me, I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. Her hair smells like lavender, and I breathe in deep, loving the smell of my fiancée.

  "I couldn't be more excited to marry you. It's one of the best decisions I've ever made."

  "One of them?" Stepping back, Ang looks up at me with a raised brow. "What other decisions have you made that are better than asking me to marry you?"

  "There's only one," I tease.

  "You're telling me you've made one decision in your life that was better than asking me to be your wife. This better be good," she says, poking me in the chest.

  "Well you see, there was this one time, when a chick cut me off on the highway. She was driving like a madwoman and almost clipped the front end of my car. I was so angry I started following her. The longer I followed her, the more intrigued I got, though. She knew how to drive. She was zig-zagging through traffic like she was auditioning for NASCAR or something."

  "I was in a hurry," she replies defensively.

  "Yes, and I'm so glad you were. I never would have followed you if you hadn't been driving like a crazy person."

  "You're just jealous I'm a better driver than you."

  Seriously? She could have killed me that day. I was actually pissed off until I laid eyes on her. No one in their right mind would have been able to stay mad at her after getting a good look at her.

  "Anyway, the best decision I've made in my life was to follow you that day. If I hadn't, we wouldn't be standing here right now, waiting for coffee in our kitchen, talking about our upcoming wedding."

  "You sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet with words, Tyler Dixon. You know that?"

  "Only you, Ang. Th
e only girl I want to sweep off her feet is you."

  My phone vibrates on my desk somewhere. Moving around a few folders, Angela's face is smiling at me when I finally find it.

  ANG: It's PERFECT!

  'It' must be the venue. Her meeting started over an hour ago, and I haven't heard a peep from her until now.

  ANG: We have to get married here. What do you think?

  As I wait for the picture to load, I drum my fingers against the desk. I brought up getting married on my parents’ estate right after we got engaged and she shot me down. Quick. At first, my feelings were hurt, but when she explained why, I finally understood what Ang really wanted out of a wedding.

  Simplicity.

  Classic.

  No fuss, no frills.

  Just like Angela, she wants her wedding day to be normal. Her family isn't wealthy. They're far from poor, but there's a large gap between the way I grew up and the way she grew up. Money doesn't matter to her and because of that, she doesn't want to spend a lot on the wedding. On the flip side, she wants it to be the image in her head so there are certain aspects that are non-negotiable.

  The picture finally loads, and I'm left speechless. The garden is beautiful. Rose bushes surround an open area I imagine is for seating.

  Another image pops up and my suspicions are right. There are chairs and a red-carpeted walkway running up the middle. At the end of the walkway is a white archway covered in flowers.

  With winter in full swing, I realize these pictures aren't recent. I'm sure she found them on the website.

  ME: I like it.

  ANG: Really? I'm still here. Can I put down a deposit? Are you okay with that? If not, I can come back later. We can come see it together. It's kind of expensive, but there's so many amazing extras that we wouldn't get anywhere else, and it includes catering.

  ME: No, go for it. Use my credit card. I don't care what it costs as long as it makes you happy. Wait, don't we need a date?