Page 34 of Betting on her Best Friend
“Of course not. I have some emails to catch up on, so feel free to curl up with a book, order room service, or watch the show,” he said, pointing to the window. “I call this the Crow’s Nest because I can see everything that goes on down there. One way or another it’s always entertaining.”
She offered him a wan smile. “Thanks.”
Though she didn’t feel much like watching everyone have fun, it was a better option than staring at the floor and feeling sorry for herself. Standing at the window, she surveyed the ballroom. Hundreds of women in dresses of every color and style imaginable. Some chose to go big like Alyssa with the Cinderella-style gowns; others wore dresses chic enough for the red carpet. The couple dozen or so men stood out in their tuxedos, and of course, everyone wore some type of mask.
The scene was an eclectic array of people and activities, to say the very least. One area offered romance novel-inspired carnival games run by the cover models who, not surprisingly, had been relieved of their jackets and shirts. Since they still wore their black bow ties, she supposed they technically still met the required attire for a black-tie affair.
Front and center, a four-string quartet played ballroom music that no one knew how to dance to properly, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Couples spun and twirled and bumped into each other so much that from Alyssa’s vantage point, the dance floor looked more like a human bumper car ride. Two couples collided in a way that had both women spinning off in opposite directions while the men smashed together to land on the floor in an awkward embrace. Watching them was so farcical that a little chuckle escaped before she could hold it back.
“Okay, I’m intrigued. And by that I mean I have situational ADHD and don’t want to work.” Trent sidled up beside her and peered down. “What’s giving you a case of the giggles over here?”
Alyssa pointed to the dance floor and he gasped. “Oh my God, what a nightmare. It’s like Night of the Dancing Dead down there.” That actually did make her giggle. They did move rather zombie-ish in their attempts to look prim and proper. “I told Patricia to go with a DJ or an indie band, but did she listen?”
“But regular music wouldn’t be nearly as memorable. If Dylan were here, that’s where we’d be. On the dance floor, trying to mimic the moves we’ve seen in movies or just making things up as we go. We’d try to keep our faces serious, but it would only work a few seconds at a time before we busted out laughing.”
“Huh,” he grunted thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve had some experience.”
“We have.” Alyssa faced him, leaning her shoulder against the cool glass. “I was his ‘plus one’ at his college buddy’s wedding and his bride came from this rich, pretentious family that made the entire event into a spectacle.” She laughed as she remembered Dylan spinning her into the table holding the gaudy ice sculpture. “Let’s just say her parents weren’t impressed with our attempts at ballroom dancing.”
“Please tell me there’s a video on YouTube.” He cursed when she shook her head.
“The mother had had a few too many by that point and she lit into me pretty bad. I was mortified and ready to leave, per her suggestion, but Dylan came to my rescue. He not-so-tactfully pointed out that if she hadn’t spent so much money on an ugly ice sculpture, she could have afforded a decent band to begin with.”
“No, he didn’t.”
She was full out laughing now. It’d been so long since she’d thought about that day. “Oh, yes, he did. Then he told her that under no circumstances were we leaving until we ballroom danced our asses off, drank our weight at the open bar, and found suitable foster homes for her poor poodles.”
Trent’s jaw had gone slack, clearly astonished by her story. “What was wrong with her poodles?”
“She owned two standard poodles—both male, mind you—and dyed them bright pink to match the bridesmaid dresses. As if the rhinestone bowtie collars and grooming them to look like fancy shrubbery wasn’t bad enough.”
“Ew. Tacky much?”
“I believe Dylan called it animal abuse. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me back onto the dance floor for one last song—just on principle, he said—before we headed to the desserts and fed the poodles tiramisu and champagne under the table.” She winced from a tinge of guilt. “Which may or may not have caused them to vomit in the koi pond.”
“Holy Hannah, you need to submit that to a bridal magazine. Or Vogue. Or Cosmo. Some-goddamn-where. That story is epic.”
She chuckled, helpless not to adore Trent and all his idiosyncratic charm. “It is pretty great.”
“Your Dylan sounds like a regular knight in shining armor.”
Alyssa’s smile faded. She turned her face and leaned her forehead on the window, seemingly watching the spectacle below, but only seeing Dylan in her mind’s eye with his lopsided grin and perceptive gaze. “He really is. Always has been, actually. If there’s one thing I could always count on in my life, it was that Dylan would always be there for me. He protected me when he could and comforted me when he couldn’t.” Tears started clogging her throat and welling in her eyes. “He never told me, but I think it killed him that he couldn’t spare me from getting hurt every time my father left. As I got older, I tried not to let it show—I figured there was no point in letting my father affect both of us—but Dylan always knew, and he always stayed with me until I evened out.”
When Trent spoke again, it was quiet and careful. “And how many times has Dylan hurt you?”
She whipped her head to stare at her friend with her brows pinched. Had the man not been listening? “Never. Dylan would sooner cut off his arm than do anything to hurt…” Her voice trailed off as something in her brain unlocked and dozens of memories and thoughts flooded into the center, all tiny pieces of a larger puzzle that began to take shape.
“Oh my God. He would never hurt me,” she said under her breath. Then louder with more conviction. “He would never hurt me.”
A sly grin spread over Trent’s face as he crossed his arms in satisfaction. “Glad to hear it.”
“Oh no, I’m such an idiot. Trent, what the hell am I doing?”
“I think it’s called having an epiphany.”
Alyssa grabbed him by the shoulders, her racing thoughts spilling out. “Dylan is about to get on a plane for home, and then he’s leaving town for I don’t know how long because I told him I don’t feel the same for him as he does me. But I lied. I lied to myself and I lied to him. I do love him; I always have. And now I know he loves me, too, and oh my God I’m such an idiot!” Her hand flew to her forehead as she called his cell, praying he’d pick up. His voicemail greeting kicked on and her stomach dropped. “He turned his phone off. Shit! I need to talk to him. What am I going to do?”
Trent started crossing to the door. “You’re going to get to him before he gets on the plane. Let’s go.”
It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in, but it still didn’t make sense. “Getting to him before his plane leaves isn’t going to matter unless you know how to get us through security.” She waited for his “oh, right,” response, but he didn’t so much as flinch at the mention of the complication. A spark of hope flared in her chest. “Can you?”
He hitched an arrogant brow, opening to door to his office with a flourish. “Honey, as far as you’re concerned, this is Oz, and I’m the motherfucking Wizard.”
