So if it wasn't Lance and it wasn't something that had happened in the office...
"You're going to have to clue me in eventually."
"I'm telling you, it's nothing. Just forget it."
He took a deep breath, "Okay. We'll forget it."
Without another word, he headed back into the rehearsal dinner.
The rest of the evening dragged on with nothing to recommend it. While Eliza did her best to stave off any more catastrophes, there was no denying the tension clouding the atmosphere like a plume of toxic gas.
At the end of the night when everyone had gone their separate ways and only he and Rachael remained, he thought he might have another chance, but she was quick to extinguish the idea.
"I'm staying in Eliza's hotel room. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." Just like that, she kissed him on the cheek and stalked out of the restaurant.
Somehow, he thought that a little bad luck would be the least of his worries.
13
Garret straightened his tie for the millionth time, but it still didn't feel right.
Then again, not much of anything felt right anymore.
He'd been to business meetings in nearly every country in the world. He'd met some of the most important businessmen and dignitaries in the universe. And still, he was certain that he'd never felt so nervous as he did right now, only thirty minutes from a fake wedding.
His fake wedding.
He gave up on the tie, and then settled onto the tiny couch in the dressing room. Right now, he had more important things on his mind.
Like Rachael and the way she'd looked at the rehearsal dinner yesterday. It was the same expression she'd worn in those early mornings and late nights when he caught her sleeping on her desk. The same way she looked whenever she mentioned Lance.
In the mirror, he caught sight of the door cracking open and he shifted, half expecting to see Rachael's stern-looking father, prepared for a long talk regarding his expectations of how his little girl ought to be treated.
After meeting Frank Ford, though, Garret probably should have known better.
Instead, Eliza stood in his doorway, leaning one hip on the doorjamb as she surveyed him.
"Hello," he said awkwardly. It felt not a little like the first time she'd burst into his life. Like he was under the bright lights of her sisterly interrogation without her having to say a word.
Still, this time she looked more...somber. It was the first time since he'd met her that she'd even shown a hint of her family's trademarked severity.
"I came to talk to you," she said, straightening as she stepped into the room, and then closing the door behind her.
"I hope it's not about the wedding night," he attempted a smile, but for once Eliza wasn't in a joking mood. Instead, she plopped onto the leather sofa and stared at him, her lips flattened into a long, thin line.
"Everything okay? Is your sister—?"
"She's fine." Eliza waved. "It's not about any of that."
"So...what is it, then? Because, pardon me for mentioning it, but you look like you just found out I had a secret life as a Vegas Showgirl."
Finally, Eliza's face split into her wide smile and she shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. I'm sorry. I'm just a little lost in thought."
"Care to enlighten me?"
She looked him over for a long moment, then folded her hands on her lap and began. "I just came from my sister's room. She's nervous as hell."
"Can you blame her? Your mother is out there."