Page 50 of Beating Heart
“Well, she didn’t go to work today, which is very uncharacteristic of my sister. I’ve called her a dozen times, called her office, and they said Doc Dolby came in today to cover for her. So I hopped on a helicopter and got my ass here because I was worried. And now she’s not opening the door, and I’ve been banging on it for a good ten minutes.”
“Wow. Must be nice to have access to jump on a helicopter with no notice.”
“Yeah. We’ve got a brother with more money than he knows what to do with. So he’s got all the toys, and he’s willing to share,” he said, but he knocked again and yelled her name.
“Do you think she’s sick?” It was impossible to hide my concern.
“Probably not with that blaring music. All her years in pediatrics, between rotations and residency, she rarely gets sick. Her immune system is rock fucking solid.”
All the blinds were pulled down, so we couldn’t see what was going on inside. “What’s with the music?”
He cleared his throat and shook his head before pounding on the door again. “Emerson’s got a slight obsession with Beyonce, and I do believe this is her new country song she’s playing. On repeat.”
“And you’re worried?” I asked, because the dude had hopped on a helicopter and flown here when she didn’t answer her phone. That seemed drastic, even for a concerned brother.
“Do you know what today is?” He turned to face me.
“Friday?”
He let out a long breath. “Today would have been Emerson’s rehearsal dinner, and tomorrow would have been her wedding day. I talked to her last night, and she was fine. But today, she’s gone radio silent. That isn’t like her. My sister doesn’t do that, at least not to me. Our parents are losing their shit and wanted to fly here, so I jumped in so I could see what was going on before all hell breaks loose at the Chadwick home.”
Her fucking wedding day.
Now, I leaned forward and banged on the door.
“Should we break a window?” Easton asked, as he turned toward her flowerbeds, and I guessed he was looking for a rock.
“I’ve got a key, but I don’t know if we should use it.”
He whipped around. “You have a fucking key? Yes. We should definitely use it. She gave you a key?”
“No. The owners gave it to me. I’ve fixed things for them over the years when they’ve had issues.”
“Dude. I need to make sure she’s okay. Let’s just open the door and find out what the hell is going on.”
“It’s a key to the back door. Come on.” I hustled down the steps with him beside me, and we made our way around back. “You think she’s still heartbroken over the dude?”
He barked out a laugh. “Hell no. I never thought she was that happy with him, if I’m being honest. And after what that fuck face did, she despises the asshole. But she had a plan, you know, and it got blown to shit. And I think she’s more upset about Farah than Collin, which kind of says it all.”
“That’s her best friend?”
“Yeah, she’s a real piece of work, too,” he said when we paused at the back door. All the blinds were drawn on the back side of the house, too.
“You sure about this?” I asked one last time, and he nodded. I put the key in the door and pushed it open, and we both stood there, gaping at the scene before us.
Beyonce’s country song was blaring through her speaker, and Emerson was singing into a bottle of champagne. And that wasn’t even the part that had my eyes going wide.
It was the fact that she was wearing a wedding gown as she danced around the room, belting out lyrics that didn’t seem to go with the song. Winnie didn’t move, she just lay on the couch with what looked like a wedding veil draped over her head. There were cupcakes lining the kitchen counter, and a batter-filled mixing bowl beside them.
“Holy shit. This is… unexpected,” Easton said under his breath.
Neither of us spoke as we just took her in. Long brown waves fell down her back, and a satin gown hugged her curves down to her waist, where a full tulle skirt ran to the floor.
She didn’t notice us as she took a long pull from her champagne bottle before turning it back into a microphone and singing loudly.
“This ain’t Rosewood River. This is Magnolia Falls,” she sang over hysterical laughter. The words did not go with the beat at all, but then she’d throw in a few, “ohhhhh, ohhhhhh, let’s move to the right” before talking about someone not being an asshole and throwing their cards down. Her words were slurring, and she was cute as hell.
My chest squeezed as she spun around, lifting that full skirt and showing off her cowboy boots beneath her dress.
