He shook his head and crossed to the bedroom without a word, laser-focused on the contents of one of the clothing boxes he hadn’t moved to his new place yet. He found it in the second one he pulled open: his black suit, haphazardly folded halfway down the stack.
“Going somewhere?” Gina asked from behind him.
He hated the material under his fingertips. He hadn’t worn it since Pops’s funeral, and he’d hoped never to have a reason to put it on again. “A wedding apparently.”
“The one that Fancy’s in?”
“Josie,” he said automatically, noting her amused smile out of the corner of his eye.
She pulled the suit from his hands. “Yeah, I don’t think you can go to a swank Chicago wedding in an off-the-rack suit from Liberty Valley, Iowa, especially since it barely fit you the last time you wore it.” She turned and eyed him speculatively, tapping a finger to her lips. “As a matter of fact, I need to upgrade my wardrobe a little bit too. A post-breakup, new workplace kind of thing. You know what that means?”
“No way.” But his mind got stuck on the memory of Josie’s little blue dress and of Jake, the suit-wearing, Jeep-driving, all-smiles accountant. That’s the kind of guy she liked, and even if he’d never be that guy, he could maybe,maybedress like it for a night.
Gina must’ve seen the surrender on his face. “Yesssss,” she crowed. “Time to go shopping.”
Eighteen
“What’s so interesting?”
Josie jumped and almost dropped her phone. “Nothing!”
Richard pursed his lips in amusement. “Oh sure. That’s convincing.” Then he struck like a snake and plucked the device from her hand. “Today’s supposed to be all about me, remember?”
She looked pointedly down at herself, kitted out in the best-maid dress, and then at their surroundings. They were tucked away in one of the dressing rooms at the swank Parker House, where Richard and Byron were set to exchange their vows in less than an hour.
“This hubbub is all for you,” she pointed out, but he only had eyes for the images filling her phone screen.
“Aha!”
Good Lord.“Aha what?”
“You’re thinking about the delicious baker.” He smirked when she snatched her phone back and put her screen to sleep.
“I’m just making sure the website loaded properly! I put the final images up this morning.” She tucked the phone into her pocket—oh yes, her best-maid dress had pockets—and turned to the mirror, trying to approximate nonchalance as she studied her appearance. But she felt Richard’s eyes scorching the back of her neck.
“Sure.” He moved to stand next to her and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves under his wedding suit. “You’re worried about the website. That’s why you had the page open to a close-up of Erik’s hot Nordic face.”
The only words of defense her scarlet-painted lips were able to conjure were “I like looking at him. Sue me.” She lifted her chin and poked at the pile of curls pinned to the top of her head.
Next to her, Richard said nothing, not even a quip or a jokey insult. She didn’t trust that silenceat all.
“What did you do?” She spun to face him, turning so quickly that her chiffon skirt swished through the air before settling back against her thighs.
“Me? Nothing! It’s my wedding day. Why would you accuse me of scheming?” His face was all innocence, and she studied it with narrowed eyes.
“Ididn’taccuse you of scheming, which tells me that’s exactly what you’ve been doing. Guilty conscience much?”
“I’m wounded.” He pressed a hand to his heart, taking care not to wrinkle his jacket. He’d chosen all white to go with his black tuxedo pants, while in the other dressing room, Byron was in all black and hanging out with his brother until go-time.
Richard’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out. “Hey, could you run to the entrance and see if they have enough programs? I’m worried we didn’t make enough.”
“Okaaaay.” One didn’t argue with the groom on his wedding day, although what did he expect her to do if theydidn’thave enough? She slid into her strappy gold heels and exited the dressing room, crossing the rustic wide-plank flooring of the open room where the ceremony would take place. A smattering of guests had already claimed seats in the rows of white folding chairs, and she waved at a cluster of people she recognized from Byron’s office as she breezed past.
Thirty seconds later, she’d confirmed that the program supply was holding up just fine, although Richard’s elderly aunt was ever so grateful that she’d checked to be sure. And two seconds after that, she laid eyes on something truly magnificent.
Erik. Andersson. Was in. A suit.
And not just any suit, but a beautifully cut navy-blue suit that accentuated his wide shoulders, his trim waist, his impossibly long legs. She’d deny it if anybody asked her later, but when she caught her first glimpse of him, silhouetted in the entrance to the venue with the late-afternoon sun pouring over his shoulders and his hair tied back in what she could only describe as a formal man bun, well… she might have whimpered a little.
