Slow Dance with the Best Man

‘You’re wrong,’ he said but, even as the words came out, he knew he was lying.

He could have been happy.

But how long for?

‘I’ll see you at the wedding,’ he said. And then he turned and walked out on love. For good.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘TOLD YOU SHE wouldn’t wear the veil.’ Laurel sidled up to Eloise as they stood outside the ceremony room, waiting for the signal to start the procession. Caitlin and Iona were fussing with Melissa’s train while the bride checked her reflection one last time and straightened the tiara on her—veil-less—head.

‘You were right,’ Eloise said, viewing the proceedings with a strange detachment. As if she were watching the action on a cinema screen, not really part of it at all.

Quite a lot of the last few days seemed like that now, actually.

‘You okay?’ Laurel asked, lowering her clipboard and looking up at her, concern in her eyes. ‘I heard... Well, there’s been a lot of talk this morning.’

‘I’m sure there has,’ Eloise replied serenely. Of course there would be. Everyone staying at Morwen Hall would have woken up to the comedy gold that was her falling out of a cupboard half naked with Noah Cross.

But at least they didn’t know the worst of her humiliation. Noah was right about that—he’d defended her from the mortification of everyone in the world knowing that she’d fallen in love with Noah and been rejected. They were the only two people in the world who knew exactly what had happened between them that week.

In a way, their fling was still a secret. Others might speculate but they’d never know the truth of it.

That mind-set was the only thing that had got her through Melissa’s snide comments and the half jokes and sniggers from the other bridesmaids as they’d got ready together that morning. The make-up artist Melissa had hired had tutted and despaired aloud at the bags under Eloise’s eyes, but some serious application of concealer and other potions from her magic bag of tricks seemed to have hidden them well enough. The icy blue-green dress had been laced tight enough to give her some semblance of curves and her red hair curled and pinned up on the back of her head, leaving her neck bare.

Eloise couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been prepared for an execution.

‘You seem very...calm,’ Laurel said. ‘Serene, even.’

Eloise gave her a small smile and raised one shoulder in a half shrug. ‘What else is there to do?’

‘I suppose.’

She’d realised after Noah left, after she’d wailed and sobbed and thrown things at the door he’d left through, that this was it. The lowest she could go. The whole world knew everything about her that she’d wanted to keep secret, and they probably all thought the worst. Either she was a fame-hungry slut seducing Noah in a cupboard, or a crazed fan lusting after him and thinking herself in love, when he was just using her for a bit of light relief.

But the thing was, neither of those were true. They were all an act—every theory, every story.

And, underneath them all, she was still Eloise Miller. Still in love with Noah Cross. Not the film star, but the man.

And no amount of humiliation could hurt as much as knowing that after today she might never see him again.

But he’d given her something, at least. She knew now what she needed to do next. He’d been right about one thing, somewhere in the middle of all his lies. She’d been hiding away at Morwen Hall for too long—too scared to go after her own dreams, to risk stepping into the spotlight and fighting for what she really wanted.

She’d fought for Noah. She might not have won him but she’d taken the risk and told him the truth—that she loved him. That was a big step.

And as soon as this wedding was over she would take another one. She’d hand in her notice at Morwen Hall and step out of hiding at last. It was time to go after all those other dreams she’d been too scared to chase—her own company, a career she could feel passionately about. Her own life, somewhere else.

She had a lot of planning to do, Eloise knew. But if she took nothing else away from her encounter with Noah Cross, she would have this: she wasn’t afraid of the spotlight any more.

How could she be? After all, it couldn’t ever get worse than this. And that thought was strangely liberating.

The string quartet at the front of the ceremony room started a new piece and Melissa gave a little squeal. ‘It’s time!’

‘Good luck,’ Laurel whispered as they lined up in their assigned order. ‘I’m going to head in and watch from the front.’

Eloise nodded to show that she’d heard her, but otherwise kept her focus on the task at hand. All she had to do was get through the rest of the day, and then she could fall apart and start again. Just another ten hours until the clock ticked past midnight and they entered a whole new year.

A fresh start. Just what she needed.

The doors opened and Eloise took her first careful, measured step, her bouquet held up at just the right height, right foot first, as instructed.

They’d opted to hold the ceremony in the old ballroom—one of the few rooms inside the hotel that retained some of the original Gothic charm. The high, peaked windows let in the winter light through thick glass, glinting off the displays of bright white flowers on every sill. The chairs the hotel staff had laid out in neat rows were now filled with the rich and famous, and at the end of the long aisle stood the celebrant, flanked by Riley, the groom, and Noah. The best man. The only man for her.

And the one man she was certain she could never have.

Eloise concentrated on her breathing as she made her way steadily down the long aisle, ignoring the whispers and muffled laughs around her. Then she heard the gasps and ‘ah’s as she reached the halfway point and knew that Melissa had made her entrance too. Nobody cared about Noah Cross’s fling any more. Melissa was the main attraction—just as she should be, and just as she’d wanted.

Eloise was more than happy to give up this spotlight to her.

As she approached the celebrant, Noah turned at last and she focused on not losing control as she saw his face. He didn’t look like his life had just been ripped apart—probably because it hadn’t.

Was it really all just an act for him? All that they’d shared, could it really have only been a means to an end? She didn’t want to believe it, but maybe she should. He was an actor. He was everything she’d always suspected he would be. Even all he’d shared about Sally—maybe it was just a sob story designed to get her into bed.

Except she’d already been in bed.

And except that it had felt real.

Eloise might not be very well acquainted with love, but now she’d felt its effects, a small part of her couldn’t give up the hope that maybe he felt it too.

Noah looked right at her and Eloise dropped her gaze. She couldn’t let him see how badly he’d hurt her. Despite everything, she still had her pride.

But then something made her glance up again to study his face, just for a moment—and she knew.

Noah Cross was a brilliant actor. But even he couldn’t out-act love.

The only problem was, love didn’t make a blind bit of difference if he wouldn’t let himself feel it. He probably didn’t even know himself.

Which meant that Eloise was no better off than she’d been when he’d left her bereft that morning. In fact, she might be worse.

Because now she knew that both of them were going to lose what might have been the most important thing in their lives.

* * *

The ceremony was excruciating. Not just watching Melissa and Riley pledge undying love, when everyone in the room knew it probably wouldn’t last five years. In fact, when he’d arrived there had been someone at the back of the room giving odds.

Noah hadn’t placed a bet. He didn’t

bet on love these days.

No, the worst part had been the way Eloise wouldn’t meet his eyes—except for the one brief moment when she’d frowned at him, as if seeing something she didn’t expect. He’d wanted to ask her what she thought she’d seen, what depth she thought he’d sunk to now. But the room was full of eyes and, besides, even if they hadn’t been in the middle of a wedding, he’d given up that right when he’d walked out on her that morning.