He watched it all pass over her face: more confusion first, then a swell of disbelief. Finally, a pulse of fear.
“Something I…?” she said quietly, not finishing.
The way she looked at him—this searching, desperate look, these seconds where she forgot the plane and the lobby and the elevator and his fuckingface. Her robe, her mussed hair, her hand still held at her heart.
She looked like she just needed somehelp.
But he was not here to help her. He was here to help the man who was basically his brother. His best friend, his best friend who had come to his room before dawn, worried that he was about to lose the woman he loved.
That could not happen.
Griff had not come all this way—an entireoceanaway from everything he needed to be comfortable, everything he needed tosurvive—to see this fail because of some loose-lipped woman with an axe to grind against the family Michael was marrying into. He needed this wedding to happen.
When this wedding happened, Michael would be happy.
He set his jaw against that look on Layla Bailey’s face. He would not let her get away with ruining this. He would make her fix it.
Somehow, he would make her fix it.
“There’s a courtyard off the lobby,” he said. “They serve breakfast. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
He didn’t wait for her reply.
He walked away, and didn’t look back.
Chapter Five
Something you said. Something you said. Something you said.
The phrase pounded in Layla’s head as she made her way to the hotel courtyard, the same way it had every second since Griffin Testa walked away from her again, this time leaving her slack-jawed and frozen in the doorway of her room. She only managed to snap out of it when another door on the hall opened; so startled by the noise, she slammed her own and turned to face the mess she’d left behind last night. Her shoes tipped to the side on the floor by the room’s narrow, shallow armoire, her skirt draped messily over the lone chair, her white pillow bearing a smudge of last night’s not-fully-washed-off mascara, her phone on the nightstand face up, not plugged in to charge.
That was so unlike her.
Something you said.
She’d washed her face, brushed her teeth, dressed herself in some combination of clothing she was sure wasn’t on her spreadsheet. Last night’s champagne was a curse, a fizzy cast over every conversation she’d had the night before. She could remember speaking more about Michael’s family, and a long detour into thesordid, steamy history of Rosie’s on-and-off relationship with a colleague. She could remember that she was careful to keep any conversation about herself focused on work.
But not according to Griffin.
According to Griffin, it was something she said. Something that made Emily havedoubts.
She didn’t want to believe it. Sheshouldn’tbelieve it, not from a man who knocked on her door at eight in the morning, scowling and staring and demanding.
But still, she kept thinking:What if it was something I said?A little champagne-bubble-like utterance, rising to Layla’s always-still surface. Something so small she’d already forgotten it, but not so small that it hadn’t somehow popped in Emily’s face with the force of a cork coming off.
And now,doubts.
Layla paused at the threshold of the courtyard. Maybe she shouldn’t have come down here. Maybe she should have waited until her memory was sharper, her mind clearer…
Her phone pinged from the back pocket of her pants, and her heart thumped. She wanted desperately for it to be Emily, responding to the trying-to-be-casual text Layla sent before leaving her room.Did that champagne hit you as hard as it hit me?she’d typed, hoping the reply message bubble would show up immediately. That Emily would respond with something equally casual likelol yessssss. Proof that Griffin Testa was mistaken, that Emily was completely fine, not having any doubts at all.
But there hadn’t been any reply, and now, Layla let her hand hover for a moment over her pocket, living in suspended hope that relief was only a swipe away. She imagined a world where she would get a text from Emily and know everything was okay. She would breathe easier. She would turn right back around and go upto her room, fix her face and her outfit, and follow her original plan for the day.
Without having to face Griffin.
But when she finally took out her phone and tapped her screen, the notification wasn’t from Emily. It was from Cara, a curt question disguised with an exclamation.
Have you seen him yet!
