Life of the Party (39 page)

I smiled
quietly, reconciled to the fact. “Marcy … you’re perfect.”

I made it
through the ceremony without tripping or fainting or anything else
that might ruin a wedding. My bouquet of creamy white peonies shook
violently while I made my way up the aisle, unaccustomed to all the
eyes on me. The room was packed with people dressed in suits and
gowns—at least three-hundred of them filled the wooden pews. The
church was gorgeous and old, with stained glass windows and dark,
impressively carved wood. Lit candelabras hung from the ceiling,
giving the sanctuary a soft glow, a romantic feel. White flowers
were everywhere, lining the aisle, overflowing the stage, hanging
from the archways.

I avoided
Craig’s eyes as I made my way up the aisle, focusing on the Pastor,
who smiled at me in a friendly way. I wondered randomly how
terrible it was to be lit up in a church.

People may have
been looking at me, but it didn’t last for long. The moment Marcy
stepped into the flower-strewn aisle, all eyes were on her. Mom was
on one side of the blushing bride, looking regal and stately in a
dark blue dress suit, her dark hair curled perfectly. Dad was on
the other side of Marcy, absolutely beaming in his pride. The
pianist was playing
Apachabelle’s Canon
and the beautiful
song floated softly in the air as they walked slowly towards Greg’s
love-soft face. I bit my lip and watched the perfect moment,
deciding that when it came time for me to get married, it’d be at a
chapel in Vegas or something. A rushed, drunken elopement complete
with poker chips and cheap beer, followed by a hasty divorce once
we finally sobered up.

I could do
nothing but stand by and watch while Marcy married Greg the dick.
It was a thankfully short ceremony. I couldn’t stand all the love
talk, the sickeningly sweet glances that Marcy and Greg were giving
each other, the tears in my mother’s eyes as she watched them kiss.
When Marcy and Greg were officially man and wife, they ran back
down the aisle to the thundering crash of jubilant applause.
Stiffly I took Craig’s extended elbow and allowed him to escort me
down the steps after them. He smirked cockily at me, chuckling as
if he found my abhorrence amusing. I bit my lip to keep from
smacking the stupid grin off his handsome face.

All eight of us
piled quickly into the stretch limo that waited at the entrance to
avoid a receiving line. I had never been in a limo before; I took
in the rich leather upholstery beneath the soft glow of pot lights.
Craig sat next to me and I pointedly ignored him, talking instead
to the other bridesmaids and groomsmen, who were lively and chatty
with excitement. The limo crawled slowly through the crowded city
streets, the driver honking the horn embarrassingly to announce the
cause for celebration as Whitney popped open a bottle of champagne
from the stocked bar inside. Marcy and Grey sat together in the
back, holding hands and their flutes and kissing and giggling in
their newlywed bliss. I chugged back my champagne and hurriedly
held out my glass for more.

We drove to
some gardens in the middle of the city for an excruciating bout of
posed and candid photos. It was a perfect summer day, the sun
blazing hot. I felt sorry for the guys in their sweltering tuxes.
Well, all the guys but Greg and Craig. I smiled in wicked enjoyment
at their discomfort, welcoming the stunted breeze that blew upon my
bare legs and helped to cool me off.

There were
group shots, bridal party shots, sister shots, bride and groom
shots. Near the end we were all sweaty and tired and I was in
desperate need of more cocaine. Craig always managed to be
irritatingly close to me and he kept smiling my way, though I gave
him no encouragement whatsoever. He didn’t mention anything about
Grey again; I think he figured that I too, had realized there was
nothing there. He seemed to be waiting for my resolve to break, for
me to give in to his utter perfection and finally accept his
advances. The grin on his face told me he was certain of my
eventual surrender to his arrogant charms. I did my best to ignore
him.

We piled back
into the limo, finally, the air conditioner cranked as Whitney
passed around more champagne. I wasn’t in the mood to join the
rambunctious conversation this time, instead I stared pensively out
my window as we drove, taking in the dim sights of the city through
the dark tint. The car was heading to the reception site, and as we
neared the five-star hotel, us girls checked and fixed our make-up
as best we could in the rocking interior. Marie’s needle straight
dark hair refused to stay upswept but stubbornly I tried to pin it
back for her. Eventually I got it somewhat how it was supposed to
be. She smiled at me in thanks.

The limo slowed
as we pulled up in front of The Windsor Hotel. A bellman opened the
door for us; I could see my parents waiting eagerly outside.
Whitney and Marie exited the car first with their escorts. Craig
got out and then turned, pausing at the opened door with his hand
outstretched, waiting for me. I sighed and placed my palm in his,
avoiding his gaze by looking out at the front of the hotel as he
helped me down.

There was a red
carpet leading up to the grand glass front entrance. Huge golden
letters were perched atop the awning, spelling out The Windsor in
gilded extravagance. The building was made of impressive beige
stone and stretched imposingly up sixty floors or more. I took in
the sight with awe, but then as I looked, my eyes fell on
something—or someone, rather—that I hadn’t expected to see.

He was leaning
against the granite wall off to the side of the entrance, looking
uncomfortable as he smoked a cigarette, his arms crossed against a
crisp black suit and tie.

I honestly had
no idea how to react to him. Grey turned his head towards us, and
his perfect lips curved into my favourite smirk when he saw me
there. I just stared at him, stunned, stock-still with surprise. He
looked at me a moment, and then his expression changed, his eyes
narrowing like he was angry. I realized that Craig was still
holding my hand. Abruptly, I ripped it from his grasp and hugged my
arms around myself, taking a deep breath in as I went to meet
Grey.

I approached
him cautiously, nervous. After all of the doubt and suspicion and
uncertainty, I didn’t know what to do, how to feel. As I neared
him, tears began to sting my eyes. God, I loved him. It’d been
easier to ignore, easier to try and forget when he was far away and
out of sight. But now he was standing before me, and the sheer
force of the love I felt for that man was nearly overwhelming.

“Who was that?”
Grey asked me when I was close enough, his voice accusing, his blue
eyes suspicious. He was looking past me back at Craig, who was
standing by the limo, watching us.

“He’s no one.”
I shrugged.

“He was holding
your hand.”

“He was helping
me out of the limo.” I corrected icily. We stared at each other a
moment. Grey looked so good in his suit. He was freshly shaved, his
dark, messy hair was carefully gelled, and his blue eyes were
piercing as he looked me over. His familiar, sweet, masculine
cologne wafted over me, and my knees threatened to buckle at the
very scent. I shut my eyes and tried to stay strong.

“You don’t seem
happy to see me.” Grey realized.

“I don’t know
how to feel.” I admitted with a shake of my head. “Grey … what are
you doing here?”

“What do you
mean? I came here to surprise you.” His handsome face turned hard.
“Why, did I crash your date or something?”

“No, of course
not.” I bit my lip. It was all so confusing—his weeks of complete
disregard, his sudden presence here. “You … you came here to
surprise me? Why?”

“Why?” He
looked taken aback by the question. “Because … because I ….” He ran
a hand through his hair, struggling for words. “Because I missed
you.”

“You missed
me?”

“Yeah, I missed
you.”

I didn’t know
what to say. I looked away from him, away from the startling blue
of his eyes. My voice was thick with threatening tears. “Well,” I
scoffed, “you sure have some way of showing it.”

Grey just
looked at me, confused, contemplative. “What did I do?”

I shook my head
at him. Where guys really that dense? Could he really not know? I
thought back over the weeks of torment and utter heartache I had
suffered at his total lack of concern. My chest burned with
indignation.

“Grey, I
haven’t heard from you in weeks.” I glared.

He shook his
head. “I know … I’m sorry, we’ve just been … busy.”

“I know you’ve
been busy.” I scoffed, my voice low and angry. “I heard her voice
on the phone.”

“What? Whose
voice?” Grey’s face fell as he considered my words. “What are you
talking about?”

“Her voice. The
girl. I called you one night, you were at a club or something, and
I heard her, Grey. I heard her flirting with you, asking you to
dance.”

“That was you
on the phone? Why didn’t you call me back?”

“I’d already
heard enough.” I could see my parents out of the corner of my eye,
watching from the entrance of the hotel. Mom had her arms crossed
in disapproval, staring at us. I ignored her, turning my gaze back
to Grey. I looked up into his gorgeous face and waited for his
answer, his explanation. Our whole relationship hung on it.

“Mackenzie.”
His face softened with concern and he grasped me by the arms. His
touch on my skin was enough to make me tremble, and I could feel
all the pain and all the anger start melting away from me. I
grasped at it, trying to remember, trying to hold on to the hurt
and the anguish like I knew I should, though every bone in my body
was screaming to forgive him. Aching to forgive him.

“Mackenzie,”
Grey repeated. “That was nothing. I promise you. We met one night
after the studio, and we danced a couple times, and that’s it.
She’s nobody. Please, look at me.” He lifted my chin with his hand,
forcing me to stare into his gorgeous blue eyes, deep and sincere.
“Mackenzie, you have to believe me. I told you that I wouldn’t
screw this up. I would never … I could never ….”

“I want to
believe you.” I admitted breathlessly, daring to hope. But I had no
proof. Only his word. I stared up into his face—so honest, so
innocent and concerned—and my eyes burned with fresh tears. I loved
him enough that suddenly, none of it mattered. Grey’s expression
told me everything I needed to know, restored to me all the hope
that had been lost. Maybe someone stronger, someone better than me
would’ve held out, would’ve demanded some proof, more of an
apology, a better explanation. But I just didn’t care anymore. I
wanted him too badly.

Wordlessly I
stepped into his arms. The moment I felt them wrap around me, I
knew I was exactly where I needed to be. He kissed my hair as I
nuzzled my cheek against his hard chest, letting his warmth and his
scent envelop me. I could hear his heartbeat through the soft
fabric of his suit, and I just shut my eyes and listened to the
sound.

“I’m sorry.” He
spoke softly in my ear.

“I missed you.”
I whispered. “So much.”

“Ahem.”

Regretfully, I
opened my eyes. My father was standing near us, his arms crossed
before his chest with impatience.

“The
reception’s about to start, young lady.” His tone was thick with
disapproval, but I just nodded at him. I didn’t want to leave the
strength and comfort of Grey’s arms, for him or anybody.

It was Grey
that pulled away from me, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
“Hello, sir,” he stretched out his hand to my father. “It’s nice to
finally meet you. I’m Grey Lewis.”

“Grey.” Gruffly
Dad shook his hand. “We really need to get going.”

Completely
unaffected by my father’s obvious displeasure, Grey and I followed
him towards the entrance of the hotel and through the grand, marble
foyer. His hand held mine, my fingers laced through his. Every now
and then I’d just look up at him, cautiously, and smile like I
couldn’t believe he was there, like he was too good to be true.
He’d smirk at me, just like I loved, and squeeze my hand as if he
felt the same way. My pulse quickened in my chest; my heart warmed
happily, melting away the icy cold grip of hurt and sadness that
had held me in such sorrow.

It was with a
happy, hopeful smile on my face that we approached the rest of the
wedding party. They were gathered in the hallway outside the
reception room, and I was completely oblivious to the heated stares
they threw my way. I was too thrilled by the very presence of the
man beside me to pay them any heed.

“So, that’s the
great Marcy, is it? The one in the white?” Grey wondered quietly to
me as we walked.

“Yeah, how’d
you guess?” I smiled. “Pretty gorgeous, huh?” I couldn’t keep the
sour note of jealousy from leaking into my voice.

To my utter
amazement, Grey just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess so. I mean,
she’s definitely pretty, but she doesn’t do it for me.” He looked
pointedly my way. “I don’t think she even compares to some.”

I looked up at
him, surprised. “You don’t mean that.”

“The hell I
don’t.” If it hadn’t been for his eyes, smiling and sincere as they
studied me fondly, I never would have believed him. I found myself
beaming at his words, moved by his sentiment, by far the sweetest
thing anyone had ever said to me.

“Mackenzie.” My
mother’s sharp voice interrupted my bliss. “Where’ve you been?
We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry.” I
shrugged. “Mom, this is Grey.”

“Nice to meet
you, Mrs. Taylor.” Grey held out his hand. Mom stared at it a
moment, as if it might bite her, and then hesitantly shook his
hand.

“Nice to meet
you.” Her voice sounded like it was anything but. “You’ll be
joining us then? Come, I’ll show you to the table.” Her voice was
brisk and clipped. “Mackenzie, they’re waiting.”