by Lauren Layne
“No, definitely not,” Heather said. The Josh she knew didn’t seem like the type to be caught dead in a suit, and she couldn’t imagine him tolerating a nine-to-five schedule.
“So what caused the change?” Leah asked gently.
“I wish I knew,” Heather said, more to herself than her friends.
“Seems like you care an awful lot about a guy who’s just a neighbor.”
“He’s also a friend,” Heather admitted.
Brooke smirked. “Uh-huh. It’s starting to sound like you’re borrowing Alexis’s script when she’s talking about Logan.”
“Um, okay, that’s just insulting,” Heather said. “I’m nowhere near that blind.”
They all shifted their attention to the birthday girl, who was seated a little ways down the table amid a couple of her friends from college days, discussing her next champagne choice with the server. The waitress looked slightly panicked, probably having realized by now that Alexis knew far more about the menu than she did.
“Do you think she knows that Logan’s in love with her?” Heather asked.
“Honestly? No. I think the man is her one blind spot,” Brooke replied. “And honey . . . trust me when I say you’re going to want to down the rest of your champagne right about now.”
Heather glanced back at Brooke in puzzlement. “Why?”
Brooke’s eyes were locked on the front door. “Because Danica Robinson just walked in here.”
Heather froze. “Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“Has she seen me?”
“Yup.”
“Crap,” Heather muttered, smoothing a hand over her hair even as she reminded herself that it didn’t matter how she looked for Danica Robinson. The woman wanted her for her wedding-planning skills, not her looks.
Still, Heather pasted on a smile all the same as Danica came into view. The other woman looked flawless in a white minidress, her long hair pulled into a high ponytail as she descended on Heather, Brooke, and Leah in a wave of designer perfume and five-inch heels.
“Heather, oh my gosh, hi, you look amazing! What are you doing here?”
Heather stood, feeling like a dork as she did the whole air-kiss thing with her most famous client. A client who’d barely managed to respond to her texts and was now hugging her like they were BFFs.
“Celebrating a friend’s birthday,” Heather said, gesturing at Alexis.
“Oh, Alexis, of course, happy birthday, babe,” Danica said with a dismissive finger waggle at Alexis.
“Guys, of course you’re all familiar with the Wedding Belles,” Danica said, turning toward her group.
A couple of the girls nodded with pasted-on smiles. The guys looked like they could not care less.
Guys, Heather noted, that did not include Danica’s fiancé.
“Anyway, I dragged everyone out tonight for a little break from all things wedding, you know?” Danica said with a wide smile. “But absolutely give me a call tomorrow, I want to hear all about the flowers you mentioned in your voice mail.”
Heather stared at her. Was she for real?
It had been at least a dozen voice mails on the flowers, all of which were left last week before Heather had finally decided to wing it and pick them herself, courtesy of Josh’s tip that Danica hated roses.
Still, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t very well call out their most famous client for being a deadbeat bride.
But she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to.
“You guys should see my dress,” Danica gushed to her friends. “It’s gorge.”
Heather blinked. Danica didn’t have a dress. She had yet to so much as show up for a single fitting.
As though she could read Heather’s mind, at that exact moment Danica caught her eye and gave her a little wink as though they were coconspirators.
Heather’s temper snapped, and had it not been for Brooke’s clearing of the throat and the fact that Alexis was giving her a don’t-do-it look, she just might have told Danica Robinson just what she could do with her imaginary dress.
Instead Heather smiled a smile even faker than Danica’s entourage. “Yes, by all means you deserve a break from all the planning,” she said sweetly. “Enjoy your evening, and we can talk tomorrow?”
“Absolutely,” Danica said. “I’ll call you, ’kay? Can’t wait. Ciao, darlings.”
She turned on her heel, lifting a hand to signal her group to follow her before they headed toward a roped-off section in the back of the bar as half a dozen of the bar’s staff scurried after them, armed with champagne buckets.
“Did that just happen?” Heather asked incredulously, gritting her teeth as her hands subconsciously balled into fists.
“Don’t let her get to you, Heather,” Alexis soothed, appearing by her elbow alongside Brooke as they coaxed Heather into sitting back down.
Leah rubbed her knee. “You did good. I know it sucks, but you have to respect her confidentiality.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Heather said, her eyes still locked on Danica, where the other woman was sitting awfully close to one of the nameless guys in her group. “I thought maybe the whole hands-off thing was some new bizarre trend she was trying to set, but she obviously wants people to think that she’s actually involved.”
“It is strange,” Alexis murmured, her expression speculative. “Especially with what’s been going on in the tabloids.”
Heather looked at her friend. “What do you mean?”
Brooke and Alexis exchanged a glance, and Heather waved a hand between their gazes. “Uh-uh. Don’t do that. Fill me in.”
“There’ve been rumors that Danica’s stepping out on Troy,” Brooke said.
“Don’t know how those might have gotten started,” Heather said, with a subtle head nod in Danica’s direction. “Still, that’s nothing new, right? Everyone knows that cheating scandals sell magazines, even the ones not based on fact.”
“True,” Alexis said, biting her lip and looking uncharacteristically worried. “Something’s just not right about all of this.”
“Tell me about it,” Heather muttered, rubbing her temples. “You know what? I’m not going to think about this right now. Monday morning I’ll call Danica and tell her about my concerns. But right now I want a bubble bath and a very good night’s sleep.”
She glanced at her watch. “Or as good a night’s sleep as I can get, considering it’s past one.”
At least there was one upside to staying out late on a Friday night; she’d miss the thump thump twang of Josh’s band practice.
“You care if I bail on the rest of your birthday night?” she asked, turning toward Alexis.
Alexis waved this away. “Please. I’m secretly hoping we wrap up soon so I can get a little bit of work done before tomorrow morning.”
Heather rolled her eyes and kissed her friend’s cheek. “You’re a mess. You know that, right?”
“Do either of you need help tomorrow?” Brooke asked. “I don’t have anything until the small Mortin wedding tomorrow.”
“No, I’m good,” Heather said, standing and reaching for her jacket. “Thanks, though.”
It was true. Her wedding tomorrow was an easy one. The couple had opted to keep the ceremony small, a swanky brunch reception on a yacht. All Heather had to do was make sure the appropriate vendors were on the boat on time and that the restrooms were stocked with motion-sickness meds in addition to the usual perfumes and breath mints.
Easy enough. At least this bride had actually seemed to care about her wedding, Heather thought sourly with one more surreptitious glance at Danica Robinson and her group.
“Honestly, you both know how much I love this business, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more than a little excited for the office to be closed for Thanksgiving,” Alexis said, draining the last of her gl
ass.
Thanksgiving.
Just like that, Heather’s already bad mood took another dip. She loved Thanksgiving. Who didn’t, really? All that glorious food and wine and excuse to have pie for breakfast the next day.
But she’d been so hoping that this was the year that would be her Thanksgiving. The one where she’d get to take her mom to the Macy’s parade and then they’d come home to the delicious aroma of a cooking turkey, maybe make pumpkin pie together . . .
Instead she’d be all by herself.
And yes, it had been her choice not to go back to Michigan. Not only because she had a wedding the weekend after the holiday, but maybe because she was being a tiny bit stubborn.
Heather was always the one to travel for the holiday. Always the one to make the trek home and do Thanksgiving on her mother’s terms. Which would be fine if her mom was an invalid, but Joan Fowler was active and perky and could get on a plane if she wanted to.
But she didn’t want to. Heather loved her mother, but she was also tired of always being the one to do things her mother’s way.
And as for Josh’s insistence that she take his mother up on her offer—well, she was fairly certain that invitation was off the table. Not that she’d take him up on it if it still was, the beast.
For one tiny moment, Heather was jealous of the other Belles for having actual plans. Brooke and Seth were headed back to California to spend the holiday with Brooke’s family. Alexis was . . . well, hell, nobody knew where Alexis was headed, since she refused to talk about it, but she’d announced that she was taking the rare weekend off, and everybody was too grateful for her overdue vacation to press for details.
Looked like it would be turkey and pity party for one this Thanksgiving holiday.
Heather forced a smile on her face as she said her good-byes before stepping into the brisk autumn night. It was a long walk home, but Heather needed the air. Needed to think and get herself out of her funk.
She swapped out her heels for the comfy foldable flats she kept in her oversized purse. But thirty minutes later when she got to her building, thinking had only made her thoughts muddier.
And as she trudged up the stairs, her already-simmering bad mood took a turn for the worse.
Josh’s door was open, and he was standing in the doorway, one arm braced against the doorjamb, no shirt, of course.
He was saying good-bye.
To a woman.
Heather couldn’t see the woman’s face, but if her slim profile and long shiny brown ponytail were any indication, she was likely quite cute. The way that Josh was looking at her told Heather that.
Great. Just what she wanted. A front-row seat to the exit routine of one of Josh’s flings.
His eyes flicked up to hers as she stepped into view, and she could have sworn she saw him jolt slightly in surprise.
But his eyes were bored and casual as they flicked over her, taking in the short skirt. “Hey, 4C.”
“Hey,” she said grimly, digging her keys out of her bag.
The woman turned to see who Josh was talking to, and Heather saw that she was right. The woman was cute. Wide brown eyes, pink lipstick, perfectly done eye shadow.
Heather smiled reflexively in greeting. The woman didn’t smile back.
Okay, then.
She had bigger things to worry about than whether or not her neighbor’s one-night stands liked her.
Say, like the fact that she had a weird knot in her stomach at the thought of Josh and this woman together.
Not wanting to dwell too deeply on that, at least not in front of Josh and his lady friend, she shoved the key in the lock, about to utter a terse good night, when another familiar voice called her name.
“Heather. Hey!”
She glanced over to see Trevor, Josh’s band’s lead singer, standing beside Josh.
Heather smiled in greeting, this time for real. She liked Trevor. Like Josh, the guy had plenty of easy charm and confidence, but unlike Josh, the guy didn’t seem to have a secret side of himself that he kept hidden from the world.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Honestly,” he said, jerking a thumb at Josh, “this guy bailed on our practice to entertain Kitty here. So, feeling very third wheel.”
There it was again. The knot. Tighter this time.
“In fact,” Trevor said, easing by Josh with a friendly wink at Kitty, “I wouldn’t mind an escape route.”
“You have one,” Josh said. “The stairs. Or the elevator. Your choice. Unless you want me to shove you out the window, because I’d be more than happy—”
“You want any company?” Trevor asked, interrupting Josh and directing the question at Heather.
Heather opened her mouth to say no. The entire reason she’d left the bar was to get away from people and stew on her own.
And yet, even as her brain was formulating some polite excuse about having an early morning, Heather realized that she didn’t want to be alone after all.
The thought of sitting by herself in her apartment, staring at the ceiling while picturing Josh and this girl . . .
“I’d love some company,” she said with a bright smile at Trevor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Josh jolt again.
Trevor grinned at her, and Heather swung open her door, gesturing playfully for him to precede her.
Heather started to follow him, but at the last minute, she dragged her gaze back to Josh. It was a pull she couldn’t deny—almost as though he silently demanded that she look at him.
He was looking right at her, his gaze unreadable, his mouth set in a firm line.
She swallowed, wishing desperately that she knew how to get rid of this bizarre tension between them. Wishing that they could have a redo of Monday’s lunch, and she was torn between wanting to strike at him and soothe whatever demons he refused to talk about.
Heather opened her mouth to say something—anything—but he looked away from her, instead shifting his attention back to Kitty, rewarding her with one of his easy, charming smiles before leaning down and whispering something in her ear.
Heather’s breath caught, and she felt a stab of pain.
So she clung to anger instead.
Heather stepped into her apartment with Trevor, giving Josh one last look before slowly, deliberately closing the door on him.
Chapter Fifteen
YOU’RE COMPLETELY ENORMOUS. YOU know that, right?”
Josh’s sister glared at him over her cup of orange juice. “No, brother dearest. I have a bowling ball chilling on top of my bladder and ankles that feel like water balloons, but I had no idea that I’m enormous. Thanks for the public service announcement.”
Josh sighed and looked at his brother-in-law. “Has she been this way for all nine months?”
Kevin scratched his cheek. “I’m going to get pizza. Who wants pizza?”
Jamie’s hand shot in the air. “I want all the pizza.”
Josh reached over and patted his twin’s protruding belly. “You are eating for two, after all.”
His sister snorted. “Please. The kid can get by on the umbilical cord. The pizza’s mine, all mine.”
“Speaking as someone who shared your umbilical cord, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it worked.”
“Don’t get me started on that. I know you were in there figuring out how to give yourself the fit gene while I got the chubby gene.”
“I forgot how good you were at science,” Josh mused.
Jamie started to lean forward to swat him but leaned back with a tired sigh. “Forget it. Once the kid’s out, I will be kicking the shit out of you, but for right now I’m too grateful that you made the trek down here. I’m getting sick of Kevin.”
“And that’s my cue to go get pizza,” Kevin said, standing and placing a kiss on h
is wife’s head. “Canadian bacon and pineapple, same as last time?”
Jamie made a gagging motion. “What are you trying to do, kill me? Who eats fruit on a pizza?”
“You did, just last week,” Kevin said, searching around on the messy desk until he came up with the car keys.
“Well, the baby’s cravings have shifted. Now she wants sausage and mushroom.”
“I thought you said the baby didn’t get any pizza,” Josh said.
“Don’t do it, man,” Kevin muttered. “Just don’t do it. Be back in a bit. Don’t kill each other.”
Josh lifted a hand to wave good-bye to his brother-in-law before frowning. “Do they not have delivery here?”
“Easy there, New York, this is Nashville, not rural Wyoming. Of course we have delivery. He just needs any excuse to get away from me these days.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he teased, standing up from the kitchen table and going to refill her orange juice glass.
“I know, I’m a monster,” she said, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her belly. “I’m just grumpy I can’t be with the family for Thanksgiving. Stupid third-trimester flight limitations.”
“You know we could have come to you,” he said, placing the orange juice in front of her and sitting back down.
“I know, but Dad has to work on Monday, and Mom’s got that charity thing she does on Friday. And honestly, it’s probably better. I’m so dang pissy these days, because I feel fat and cranky and my back hurts.”
He leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “You’ll get through it. Just a couple more weeks, right?”
Jamie sat up a little straighter. “Oh my God. Josh. I’m sorry, you must think I’m the worst, complaining about a little back pain and swollen feet. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t do that. My experiences don’t make yours any less valid.”
The miserable expression on her face didn’t fade, and Josh squeezed her hand. “Jamie. I thought we were over this.”
