I feel my lungs stall in my chest, a second before my heart starts to pulse in my throat. Swallowing hard against the bulk of it, I turn away from the room and grip my hands around the railing when the floor starts to tilt and sway under my feet.
Dean.
He’s here.
Even though all I can see is the back of his head, I know it’s him. I know because my stomach is in my toes and my knees are threatening to give out on me.
Paige is standing next to him, laughing at something he said, her perfectly manicured hand looped through his arm like she’s holding on for dear life.
I guess she has a date, after all.
“I saw them together.”
Tearing my gaze away from them, I look at Henley who’s watching me quietly. “Saw who?”
“Paige and Allister,” she answers me plainly. “It was at that quarterly water conservation dinner my mother chairs.” She lets out a sigh, her gaze roving over Paige with the same look of distaste she wore earlier. “You were doing what we’re supposed to do at these things—networking. Socializing—I wanted to talk to you but to be honest, you’ve always intimidated me a little.” She gives me a flat smile before she laughs. “Anyway, I was hiding in the library, and the two of them stumbled in, all over each other. They didn’t see me and I managed to slip out before things got naked but I saw enough.”
I remember that dinner. I didn’t want to go—I’d been exhausted from working double time to get all of my open projects closed before the honeymoon and finalizing everything for the wedding. I’d asked Allister if we could stay home but he insisted.The Halston-Days are some of your family’s closest friends. Not attending would reflect poorly on us.
It was the Wednesday before my wedding.
Less than 48-hours before I received my first email from my mystery whistleblower.
“I never got the chance to tell you before now, but…” Henley leans close, dropping a hand onto my arm while the corners of her mouth tip up in a small smile. “Thank you.”
Confused, I shake my head. “Thank you for what?”
“When my mother married Spencer and we moved to New York, I was completely terrified,” she confesses quietly. “None of this made sense to me.” Lifting her hand from my arm, shewaves it at the room behind me and the people in it. “Watching you—how you handled them. How you managed to navigate all the bullshit and keep being who you are... you were so poised. So cool and confident.” She rolls her eyes, giving me an embarrassed grimace. “This is going to sound weird, but pretending to be you has gotten me through some pretty difficult situations.”
I want to tell Henley she’s wrong. That I didn’t handle anything well. That I crumbled under the pressure. That the cool exterior is just a façade. One I used to ignore the girl I really was—that I’mstillignoring her because I don’t know who she is and I’m afraid I never will. Instead of telling her the truth, I just shake my head and laugh. “I think you might have me confused with someone else.”
“I was at your wedding, Millie,” she says with a grin. “Well, youralmostwedding—I know exactly who I’m talking to.”
Giving my arm another light squeeze, Henley leaves me where I’m standing to rejoin the party.
FORTY-NINE
Even in Manhattan, finding a decent tux at amoment’s notice is no easy feat and neither is getting to Boston on a Friday night. Stuffing myself onto a packed commuter train, garment bag slung over my arm, I spent the two-hour ride there telling myself that this was stupid. That this whole thing was an exercise in futility. It didn’t matter if Conner told Millie’s father the truth or not becauseItold Millie the truth and she didn’t believe me.
Yeah? So what the fuck are you doing here, Mercer? If none of this matters, if you’re just going to roll over and give up, what the hell are you doing? Why are you here?
The answer is simple.
I haven’t seen Millie in months and as a result, I’ve lost myfucking mind. I don’t even know if she’s going to be here. All I know is that Conner Gilroy is playing the part of my fairy godmother for some reason and he saidsee you there.
Already late, I grab an Uber to the Hawthorne before stopping at the front desk to see if there was somewhere I could change. Expecting to be directed to a public restroom or maybe a janitor’s closet, the young woman behind the counter gave her computer keyboard a few taps before smiling at me.Welcome to the Hawthorne, Mr. Mercer—your suite is ready and waiting for you. When you’re ready, the gala is being held in the Grand Ballroom on the tenth floor.
When I tried arguing with her that she must be mistaken, that I didn’t have reservations, she just kept smiling while she slid a plastic keycard in my direction.
Compliments of Conner Gilroy.
Taking the keycard with a muttered thanks, I drag myself to the elevator and up to my assigned suite where I had the luxury of showering off a two-hour train ride before putting on the tux I paid entirely too much for. Calling it an investment, I strapped on the Rolex Millie gave me and marched myself to the elevator.
Half hoping I’d be turned away at the door, I’m handed a catalog and an auction paddle before being let in by a burly security guard with aMr. and Mrs. Gilroy are happy to have you in attendance, Mr. Mercer.Seeing a bar, I practically dove for it, ordering a Jameson on the rocks.
“Sorry, sir,” the bartender says with a sheepish grin. “But we only have Johnny Walker Blue and?—”
“It’s alright,” a deep, male voice says behind me. “You can give him the Jameson.”
