She let out a cool, almost uncaring laugh. “Don’t be dramatic, Eliza. Honestly, if it was supposed to be just another dress, it wouldn’t have been called aweddingdress.”
“I’m serious. I can’t even see my own arms. There are too many layers and details. Too many things going on.”
“That’s because you’re not meant to be fidgeting. You’re meant to be making an entrance.”
I turned to face her slightly, careful not to knock anything over in the process. “I really liked the other one.”
“Yes, well, this wedding isn’t about what you like, is it?” she said smoothly, stepping closer and adjusting something at my shoulder without asking or warning me. “You said it yourself. You’re doing this for the good of the family, ours and his, and what we need is to make a statement.”
“A statement?”
She suddenly met my gaze in the mirror, intensity blazing in her eyes. “We need people to know that the Rodericks areback, stronger than ever, and that we stand united with the Westwoods.”
I wanted to argue, but for some reason, I couldn’t find the right words. “Of course.”
We went through a few more options, but by the time we left the shop, I felt like I’d run a marathon I hadn’t trained for. In heels. Through emotional quicksand.
The drive back was quiet, which I actually appreciated, but somehow, it felt more ominous than the conversation at that shop. When we pulled up outside Jesse’s house, I let out a small breath of relief, glad to be back at the closest thing I had to home in this country.
“Thank you for the help,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt. Then it dawned on me that I might not be able to simply rush inside and make myself a cup of tea. My hand was already on the door handle when I turned back to her. “Are you staying here, with us?”
Her eyebrows swept up, but when she realized it was a serious question, she burst out laughing. As if I’d suggested something truly outrageous. “No, Eliza. I wouldn’t be caught dead staying in a townhouse like this.”
I looked at the house, a gorgeous historic brownstone, then looked back at her. “No, of course not.”
“Honestly, it reminds me far too much of the castle,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “All that history. All the weight.”
That was not a comparison I ever thought I’d hear, but I nodded anyway, relieved to be off the proverbial hook. “Alright. Well, there’s more than enough room if you change your mind.”
“I won’t. I have somewhere else to be, and after that, I’ve already got a hotel suite with my name on it.”
“You’ve got somewhere else to be? I thought you came here because Mom sent you to help with the wedding dress.”
She smiled again, that same knowing expression settling into place on her features. “She did, but I’ve also got some business to attend to here in Chicago. We thought it would be two birds with one stone.”
Right. Business. Eugenie. That didn’t sound quite right either, but I finally said goodbye and headed into the house, not even glancing back when I heard the tires squealing as she raced away.
That same uneasy feeling from earlier crept back in, but it was more insistent this time. Eugenie didn’t do anything without a reason and I sincerely doubted that the real reason for her visit was to help me.
I just had no idea what else it could be.
CHAPTER 33
WILL
Pacing implied a lack of control. A visible crack in composure. An outward sign that something wasn’t going as planned. Before all this, I’d rarely paced. Now, however, it seemed to have become my default setting. “You’re currently unemployed and you’re getting married in a couple weeks.”
Jesse was sitting in one of Alex’s boardroom chairs like he was waiting for a drink instead of having been called to a career intervention, and he didn’t even flinch. “I’m between opportunities.”
“You’re between reality and delusion.”
Alex sat at the head of the table with his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee as he watched us, just listening. Given that he and Dad were the ones who were so desperate to bring Jesse back into the fold, I’d have assumed he’d be fighting tooth and nail for this, but nope.
“How about sales?” I stopped pacing to look directly at my twin, dressed, as usual, in jeans and a casual T-shirt. “You’d be great at it and it’s a perfect fit to start.”
Jesse frowned. “I don’t want to work in sales.”
I exhaled a heavy, frustrated breath through my nostrils. “That’s unfortunate.”
