Perfect Alignment (Thorne and Dash 3)

Thorne wanted to tell Barton to go to hell and walk out. His company didn’t need Barton’s account that badly. Of course, they didn’t need a reputation for stomping off in a temper either, no matter how much of an ass Barton was.

“Look, I’ve still got a report to finish and send out tonight. Why don’t I call you a cab, and I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Scared you, huh?”

Pissed me the fuck off. Thorne signaled for the bartender. “Would you please get Mr. Barton a cab and charge these drinks to my room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You really taking off? Don’t have the stamina for drinking late? Can’t think your boy likes that.”

“He’s not a boy. He’s a man, and he doesn’t usually care for late nights either. I’ll see you in the morning.” Thorne headed to the elevator before saying something he might regret later.

Thorne wished to God Barton’s story hadn’t affected him and that he hadn’t heard it when things were less than perfect with him and Riley. He texted Riley as he rode up in the elevator.

Did you have a good day?

Yes. I talked to Darius about tuxes. He’ll take care of it. He’s got a connection for high-end rentals. Marc’s coming over tonight to help with other stuff.

Did Riley wish he was with someone younger, someone like Marc? He’d sworn he didn’t, and when they were in bed or when Riley looked at Thorne like he was the greatest thing on earth, he didn’t doubt it.

I wish I was there.

Me too, but you’d be bored with the stuff we have to go over.

Dammit. Why hadn’t he faked more interest in this wedding shit?

Did you need something important last night? I’d had a hell of a day. I’m sorry I was pissy.

It’s okay. I figured it out. Marc has some good ideas and so does Kathryn.

Thorne had hated being asked about all the little things for the wedding, so why was he feeling resentful that Marc and Kathryn were filling in for him?

He sent a heart emoji, and Riley sent one back. Four more days and he’d be home. Then he’d do his very best to give Riley what he needed.

***

Riley’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was Jenna. He didn’t want to talk to her, but he accepted the call anyway. She’d just call back in an hour if he didn’t.

“Hi, Riley, did you choose a tablecloth and some favors?”

He hadn’t given them a single thought. “Um…not yet.”

“We’ve really got to get on this. We don’t want to run the risk of not being able to have things delivered on time.”

How long could it possibly take to acquire tablecloths? He and Susan had a supply of white ones for their catering business if it came to that. “I was going to look at the samples tonight.”

“Okay, be sure you do. The favors are really important. You want to pick something that really showcases who you are as a couple.”

Did people really care that much? “I’m not sure—”

“Don’t worry. I know you’ll make a good choice, and if not, we’ll talk it over. Call me in the morning.”

“Um…okay.”

She was gone. Thank God.

Riley flopped onto the couch and picked up the fabric samples for tablecloths. What happened to basic white linen? He flipped through them and realized he didn’t give a fuck.

Marc arrived a few moments later, and Riley showed him some brightly colored glass dolphins filled with rainbow glitter which were intended to be wedding favors. “Who the fuck would give these out at their wedding?”

Marc grimaced. “I have no idea.”

Riley scrolled through more of the horrors on the website Jenna had directed him to. “Did you know that for the bargain price of $16 each you can have marzipan swans decorating the tables?”

“Really?” Marc sounded as unimpressed as Riley.

“Ugh. I hate all this stuff.”

“How about you go with wildflower bouquets instead?”

Riley exhaled in relief. “Yes. That’s exactly what Thorne would want.” Why didn’t Riley think of that?

Marc grabbed Riley’s iPad and started scrolling through the site.

“I’m also supposed to pick out guest favors,” Riley said.

“A gift card for your bakery. Pastries are never wrong.” Marc’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the iPad. “Never mind.” He pointed to something on the screen.

Riley winced when he saw the lacy gold-glitter frames in which you were supposed to place romantic photos of yourself and your new spouse. “Ugh.”

“Yeah.”

“Pastries are perfect. How do you decide about this shit without even thinking about it?”

“Because. One. It’s not my wedding. And two. I’ve not been inundated with things like glitter dolphins and swans.” Marc turned the iPad off. “Stop looking at this shit and maybe fire your planner. She’s out of control.”

Riley nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck are these?” Marc picked up the fabric samples Riley had just looked through.