Holiday Wedding (Holiday Romance-Spicy Version #2)

27

Tuesday, December 24

Wedding Day

Jenny

Ican’t be yours,” I answer Dean, my heart clenching at that unpleasant truth.

“Why not?” His dark brow quirks downward.

“I’m leaving. After the wedding, I’ll go back to L.A. I’ll move on to the next assignment.”

Move on from you.

I don’t say it, but it’s implied.

His hands twitch. A frown settles so deeply into the lines of his face that it looks like it’s permanently etched there.

Guilt weighs me down, an empty hollow feeling. I’ve hurt him. It’s in the squint of his eyes. In the twist of his lips.

“I’m sorry,” I say, rushing to fill the awkward silence, my heart aching. “I thought you understood. This is only temporary. That’s all it can be. I’m leaving, and you’re staying.”

This is for the best. Say it before he does. Leave him before, days or months from now, he leaves me.

His face smooths into the blank expression I know so well.

“Of course,” he says mechanically. “I knew that.” A brittle laugh. “I got carried away for a minute. Sorry.”

I fumble, lost. That ache expands until it’s a swirling black hole I could drown in.

What am I doing?

I open my mouth to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to say I made a mistake and this isn’t what I want.

The phone rings so jarringly loud that we both jump.

When he answers, Dean turns his back to me, and it feels symbolic of what’s happening between us. He’s done with me. Cutting me out of his life. But that was inevitable, right? This was always where we would end up?

It’s Caleb on the phone. They talk for a few minutes, Dean speaking so quietly that I only catch half of what he says. He hangs up and stands there, not facing me. I stare at the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes like it’s Morse code. A pattern to tell me what he’s thinking.

Finally, after a deep exhale, he turns to me. Devoid of emotion, he tells me, “The electricity is back on. The snow has melted. Gwen’s on an airplane heading home, much to Caleb’s relief. She’s going to land and then go to the penthouse to get dressed for the wedding.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s great,” I stutter, caught between despair for myself and happiness for my best friend. Today is Gwen’s wedding. I should put my issues aside and focus on her. She doesn’t need a teary bridesmaid ruining her special day.

“I’m going to Caleb’s now.” He brushes past me, careful to not make contact, on his way to get his shoes. They sit beside the door, neatly lined up next to my boots like they’re best friends. The sight breaks my heart.

“I’ll go with you, so I can get ready with Gwen.” I say, not wanting to stand in the leftover snow and hail a taxi. I need to reach Gwen. Help her out.

A flicker of anguish darkens his face, quickly extinguished. “Fine. Let’s go.”

We’re quiet as we gather our things, each lost in our own thoughts.

The snowplows have been busy. It doesn’t take long before we arrive at Caleb’s penthouse. The elevator whisks us to the top floor, and we walk in to see Caleb pacing in the living room. He looks awful, hollow-eyed and tight-jawed. His hair is messy, and not in his usual tousled movie star way. This is more like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times.

What’s going on?

He’s supposed to marry my best friend today, but he radiates more stress than excitement.

I open my mouth to say “hello.” The word doesn’t make it past my lips before Caleb asks, “Jenny, can you explain this?” He holds up a newspaper, the Los Angeles Times. There, on the front page, is an article, “Will Stalker Ruin Caleb Lawson’s Wedding?” Under the title are photos of the Secret Santa website. My stomach clenches when I read the name of the author, Eddie Rulanski.

My ex. My boss.

Caleb shakes the paper open and reads out loud. “According to sources close to the couple…” He stops and gives me a sharp-eyed glare before continuing. “Lawson has been stalked for years by the alleged ‘Secret Santa,’ who tracks his every movement. This reporter has discovered a list of over 800 suspects, including the bride-to-be’s friends and family. Could it be that Lawson doesn’t trust his own fiancée?”

“What!” I exclaim. “Gwen’s not the stalker!”

“Of course not,” Caleb spits out. He reads, “Will there be an unhinged wedding crasher when the couple gets married on Christmas Eve?” He angrily throws the paper onto the coffee table. “It goes on to give the exact time and location of the ceremony.”

“Oh, no.” My hands cover my gaping mouth. This is the worst thing that could happen. We’ve all worked hard to keep it a secret, but now the whole world knows when and where the wedding will be. My heart hurts to see how upset Caleb is, but it absolutely shatters when I see the betrayed expression on Dean’s face.

Caleb crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on me. “I don’t understand. How could this have happened?”

I hold my hands up. “I—I can explain. I had lunch with Eddie, and I think he may have seen something on my phone—”

“You think?” interrupts Caleb, his voice rising.

Dean rubs his forehead, muttering, “We’re going to have to up security at the wedding. I’ll need to coordinate with the police.” Flat brown eyes narrow at me. “We told you to keep this a secret. You promised.”

“I kept my word. I swear! I didn’t tell Eddie anything.”

Dean doesn’t respond. He looks at me like he’s never seen me before. The man who kissed me so fervently this morning has vanished. It makes sense. Of course, he’ll side with Caleb, who he’s known for years, who he respects. He would never choose me, the person who rejected him, who he used to hate.

Shame burns from my chest to my cheeks. I want to curl up into a ball. To fade away. Anything to escape from the judgment I see in their expressions. It’s too much. To lose both Dean and Caleb on the same day.

“You must have said something to Eddie,” Caleb insists. “He wouldn’t have just randomly looked at your phone.”

“You don’t know Eddie.” I let out a humorless laugh.

“We’ll have to figure this out later.” Caleb rips his hand through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut. “Gwen’s going to land soon. Our families and I are going to surprise her at the airport. The twins made Welcome Home signs and everything. I want Gwen to know how happy we are that she’s home.” There’s something fragile about how he adds, “I’ll be so happy she’s home.”

Caleb opens his eyes and looks my way. “I was going to ask you to join us, Jenny, but maybe that’s not the best idea right now…”

This is it.

I’ve broken his trust, Gwen’s and Dean’s as well, too many times. I’ve been a poor guardian of their secrets, of their privacy, and this is what I deserve.

To be left behind yet again.

My head drops, and my gaze falls to the floor. I feel small and useless. Sadness swells, rising up so big I can’t even cry. I just stand there, dry-eyed, with my heart so heavy I wonder how it’s still beating.

“I believe her,” Dean says, his voice breaking through my cloud of misery. I snap my eyes up to see he’s addressing Caleb, not me. “If Jenny says this article isn’t her fault, that the information was stolen from her, then I believe her.”

Caleb still looks doubtful. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” argues Dean. “Jenny loves Gwen. She’s known her far longer than you have, Caleb. Do you really think she’d do anything to hurt her best friend?”

Shifting his weight, Caleb turns to me. “Not on purpose, but—”

“No buts.” Dean steps closer, the heat of his body radiating through my clothing. It warms me. “Jenny’s family to Gwen—and to you, Caleb. She put her career on the line for you. She could have had her dream job if she sold you out, but she hasn’t. Every day she’s proven she can be trusted.”

Butterflies that had their wings broken years ago flutter to life at Dean’s words. They rise and take flight, straightening my spine, filling me with a sense of belonging and confidence I thought was lost forever.

She can be trusted.

I’m trustworthy.

I’m worthy.

My chest swells with gratitude and something I’m not ready to name as I sway toward Dean, wanting to express my thanks, but he pulls back, subtly angling his body away from me. It hurts, knowing he defended me out of a sense of justice rather than affection.

Caleb opens his mouth to argue, but his phone on the table rings, interrupting him. He stalks over and answers it with a barked, “Hello?” He cocks his head, listening. His expression changes from anger to disbelief to terror.

He asks, “What do you mean, Gwen’s missing?”