Until Then

6. Hayley

SIX

Hayley

Lights and thumping music are the first sign I’m out of my element.

The second is the pretty blonde woman who slips past me in the doorway dressed in a perfectly fitted pencil skirt. She flashes me a quick grin, then keeps talking on the phone about a Jude.

Probably Jude Law.

Doubtless, Briar has some makeup or fashion line with the man. Her connections are outrageous and incredible. It’s been amazing to watch her fly so high while learning to keep grounded and down to earth.

“Ready?” Greer checks her red lips in a pocket mirror. She looks elegant without even trying. The woman carries curves like a profession and has the deepest, richest Italian olive complexion, she looks like a walking filter.

“No.”

“Come on, she said it’s just her family, right?”

I nod. Trouble with Briar is, sometimes family doesn’t always mean blood for her. Then there’s her fiancé’s invite list—I don’t know who might be in there to support Tyrell.

“I’m not ready,” I say, “but we’re going anyway.”

Greer tosses back her tight curls and loops her arm through mine. “This is good for you, Haze. You’re starting to talk to only horses.”

“I like horses more than people sometimes.”

She laughs like I’ve cracked a great joke. I wasn’t trying to joke.

We step into the loft above the packed restaurant. It’s less stacked in people, but this is a private party with Tyrell’s and Briar’s closest family. A dinner before the rehearsal dinner.

For a year or two, I wondered if the hustle to be the top model would take one of my oldest friends away in a life I couldn’t follow. Briar Madden and I lost touch for a bit, then one Christmas she showed back up at the ranch door, a basket of peanut brittle and eggnog fudge in hand, and a request to binge Christmas Story , just like we did every year from fifth to twelfth grades.

She’d stepped back from fashion modeling and decided to live her true passion in makeup and the behind the scenes of fashion.

It was one of the best decisions she’s ever made.

First, she eats a sandwich now and then, and second, the choice brought her to Tyrell. Sweet, driven, shy Tyrell.

We’ve only met a handful of times, and I know he’s the head of a movie, or TV studio—I don’t know, something important—but he makes her happy. He reels her in, and she nudges him forward.

Love Briar as I do, this is not my scene.

I snatch a dainty flute of some fruity looking drink off a tray when a waiter waltzes by and gulp half in one go.

“Easy, girl.” Greer takes the glass out of my hands and places it on an end table near a modern sofa. “He’s not here, Haze. I told you, the video was posted like an hour ago.”

Ah, Greer chipped away to the real reason behind my nerves. Noah Hayden knows Briar. I mean, I don’t really know how close they are; Briar usually talks about Tyrell, the past, and her new lines.

Still, it’s the first time in nine months where a real possibility of crossing paths weighs over my shoulders.

If I look in that blue eye, then his brown one, I’ll falter in my resolve that I made the right choice by leaving the perfect day as an untainted memory.

One look, and I might start to focus on the longing I’ve carried like a boil through the months.

Greer is my Noah watcher. We’re not creepy, not really. Maybe. I don’t care. She briefly mentioned he was spotted in a precarious situation with his latest girl, and it gave me a bit of hope he wouldn’t be here.

I swallow the sweetness and smooth my palms down the front of my dress. Another breath, and I weave through the crowds of couples and gaggles of faces I don’t know as they laugh, drink, and eat.

Maybe after a few laughs with Briar, I can head out without being the jerk of a friend.

We’re halfway across the room when a velvety sweet voice rises over the group nearby, “Haze!”

Briar Madden, dressed like she popped off a Vogue cover, squeals and shoves through a ring of her cousins at the table.

“Bry!” I can’t help the smile that cuts across my face. Some friendships never die no matter how life tries to put distance between them.

She chokes me with her long, slender arms, laughing and rocking side to side. Her massive diamond on her left hand catches the light and nearly blinds me.

“You made it.” She pulls back. Briar has always had an exotic beauty to her features, and with her high bone structure it only makes her more gorgeous as she ages.

“Of course. I’m a bridesmaid.” I take hold of her hands and let out a little shriek. “You’re getting married .”

“I know!” Briar dances—more like flails—and looks like she might split out of her skin. She looks over my neatly braided hair at Greer. “Oh, Greer, right? Haze said you were the plus one.”

Greer shoves through me. “Thank you for having me, but I need to tell you—Girl, your lip mask brand paired with that moisturizing lipstick, totally life changing. I’m not exaggerating.”

I laugh, watching the seedlings of Briar’s and Greer’s gal-mance unfold.

Two makeup enthusiasts, two strong, bold women, it was really only a matter of time before my childhood bestie met the grown up one.

“Come on.” Briar drapes an arm around my neck, then Greer’s. “You two need to try these sunset smoothies they make here. It’s like a Hawaiian beach in a glass. Then you’re going to eat and meet people. Looking at you, Haze. Greer is a lawyer, she can likely handle any conversation.”

“Very true.”

“Horses don’t fight back,” Briar says with an arched brow.

“Do you expect me to brawl tonight?” I let out a snort.

“You never know what could happen with this crowd.”

Briar and Greer both have long strides—I clearly have a type when it comes to best friends—and meander through the crowd around the bar.

I apologize under my breath for every shoulder I nudge as I try to follow.

Until the crowd parts and I stop, until I can’t breathe. I’m not even sure I can feel my limbs.

It’s him.

There, ordering drinks.

Noah . . . except now he’s covered in tattoos. And his hair is a cosmic blue.

It’s him, but not.

When he turns around, two glasses in hand, I see those unique, unforgettable eyes. One blue, one brown.

A strange feeling runs through my veins, overheated, annoyed, maybe a touch of desire. But the way his eyes lock on my face, then casually drift aside as though he doesn’t even know me ignites an anger I didn’t even know lived inside.

When Noah strides past me, like I’m nothing but a dusty memory he doesn’t want to recall, my mouth opens, words—awful, stupid words—fly out. “Seems like your fear of needles wasn’t true either.”

What was I doing? Why couldn’t I just fade into the background, pretend—like him—that we didn’t know each other?

Is my ego so fragile, or . . . does some part of me want to be pulled back into Noah Hayden’s orbit?

I’m ridiculous and looking for heartache.

Noah comes to a stop, both drinks in hand, and scans the tattoos on his arms like he’s never noticed them before.

“Uh, I’m not sure I ever said that. Sorry, have we met?”

Have we . . . have we met ?

All embarrassment fades to red-hot anger. What. A. Jerk.

My lips part. “Wow. You know, all this time I kept giving you the benefit of the doubt in my head that maybe you just didn’t want to give up the famous side of your life, so I let that little omission slide. I even felt terrible, thinking I walked out on a good thing. I never wanted to believe you’re the worst of them. Looks like I was wrong.”

He looks stunned. “Uh, I?—”

“Darcy!” The same blonde woman who was on the phone earlier cuts through the crowds. “Oh, babe. You’re a lifesaver.” She takes one of the drinks and practically moans when she sips the top. “Mom said my dad just taught Jude to cuss, so there’s that when we get home.”

Noah’s face lights up. But . . . not the same as before. In truth, the colors of his eyes are opposite. The blue should be on the other side.

The woman pauses her second sip and eyes me. “Oh, hi. I’m Vienna. Are you one of Briar’s family and friends, or Tyrell’s?”

“Uh . . .” My mouth parts and closes like a gasping fish. “I’m, uh, I’m Briar’s friend.”

“She doesn’t like my tats,” the imposter Noah whispers loud enough to hear.

The woman looks scandalized, tracing one of the vines running down his forearm. “Good thing they’re mine then, Rees.”

I thought she called him Darcy, not Rees.

All at once realization hits. Twins. Noah had a twin brother.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble. “I thought you . . . I thought you were someone else.”

“I have a guess who.” He holds out his free hand. “Rees Hayden. I take it you’ve met my brother. Maybe it wasn’t good. He’s an idiot. Tell him I said that.”

I start to back up. “Again, I’m so sorry. I haven’t seen him in a few months and?—”

“Hayley, there you are.” Briar and Greer shove through. “Oh, good. You’ve met Vi and Rees. You know, I met these two when they first started dating. Vienna was actually the one who encouraged me to start the makeup line.” Briar beams at the woman and hugs her shoulders.

“I think you did a lot yourself, Bry.”

“How’s my little Jude man?”

Little. Okay. They have a kid, clearly. Not Jude Law.

“Learning to be a deviant from his grandpa.”

“Grandpas are the best.” Briar laughs.

It’s in the middle of their conversation I take note that Noah’s brother is studying me, like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“Your name is Hayley?”

I swallow and nod.

“You don’t happen to do equine therapy, do you?”

Now, the others stop.

“Haze is an occupational therapist,” Briar says, a furrow to her brow. “Good guess, Rees. How’d you . . .” Briar’s words trail off and her eyes widen when she snaps her gaze back to mine. “Oh, my gosh. Are you the horse girl?”

“What?”

“You’re Noah’s unicorn. Aren’t you?”

“Wait.” Greer cuts in. “He called her his unicorn. Okay, I’m sorry Haze, I’m back to Team Noah.”

“Hold on,” says Rees. “She didn’t seem happy to see me. But the story I got was you left him. What’d he do? If he was an idiot, that’s just him. He’ll apologize?—”

“Don’t speak for me, Reesie Cup.”

My blood goes cold. Slowly, the voices quiet, and like a unified dance we all turn around as one.

There, Noah—the true Noah—stands in a black suit, fitted too perfectly, glaring at me over the rim of his glass.

“The way I remember things, I’ve got no reason to apologize.”