BAILEY

If I could roll out of Dr. Russell’s car on the highway without sustaining any major injuries, I would. As it is, I sit beside him silently, shaking with untold emotions until we pull up in front of my house. There are no words exchanged as I reach into the back seat for my backpack and brace it against my chest so it doesn’t get completely drenched. We don’t look at each other. We barely breathe. I clutch the door handle, consider thanking him for driving me home or apologizing for whatever it was that just happened, but in the end, I say nothing before I dart out into the rain. I’m running because it’s raining, but I’m also running because I want to get away from him as fast as I possibly can.

I push open the front door to our house with too much force and slam it closed behind me even harder, peeking past the window shade in time to see him peel away. I watch him go and my heart pounds in my chest like a stampede of wild horses.

“You’re not going to believe it!” Josie shouts behind me.

I jump out of my skin and whirl around to see her holding up the laptop we share. The messenger app is open and when I step closer, I see that she’s been having a conversation with Cooper without me knowing.

Shit. I haven’t checked our texts all day.

“Josie!”

She waves her hand to cut me off. “Yes, okay, technically I’ve been texting him without your explicit permission, but he’s back in town and he invited you on a date tomorrow!”

My stomach fills with dread. “Please tell me you—”

“Told him yes?! Duh! And you aren’t going to believe it! You’re going to a wedding!”

Her eyes—the same light brown shade as mine—fill with stars as if a wedding is on par with the Oscars.

Oh my god. How many times am I going to feel panicky and weepy in one day? I can’t believe she did this. Sure, Cooper is nice, but I’m not sure I would have agreed to go on a date with him, and definitely not to a wedding!

I grab the computer and scroll furiously through the texts, trying to catch up. Their conversation is innocuous and kind of boring. They talk about the weather (So cold, right? Brrr!) and his flight back from Cincinnati (The guy next to me is snoring so loud!). Josie uses way more emojis than I would. Pretty much every sentence is dotted with three or four. Jesus, if I were him, I would never text me back, but Cooper isn’t deterred.

Unfortunately.

There, at the bottom, I see with my own eyes that he did invite me to be his date for a wedding, and Josie stupidly accepted on my behalf—with four hearts-in-my-eyes smiley faces. I look like a desperate weirdo.

Worse, Cooper goes on to explain that it won’t be a big, fun, eat-cake-and-blend-into-the-wall sort of affair.

I jerk my attention back to her. “It’s his cousin’s wedding! That means his entire family will be there!”

Her brows scrunch together like she doesn’t see the problem.

“He said it would be small,” she argues. “See there? ‘Just fifty people or so, nothing too crazy’.”

“That’s worse, Josie! It means there’s no way I can just fly under the radar!”

“Ooooh, yeah.” She nods, lip starting to quiver. “Now I see your point.”

I drop the computer onto the couch and start pacing. On a good day, this would stress me out. Today, I can barely stop from pulling my hair out.

“How do we undo this?”

“We don’t!” she says, trying to cut into my path and grab ahold of my shoulders, but I don’t let her. I need to keep moving or I might spontaneously combust. “He’s really nice and you said yourself you thought he was cute! So it’s kind of an awkward first date—so what? It could be really fun!”

I stop suddenly, drop my hands to my knees, and force down the urge to throw up.

Her hand hits my lower back. “Do you want me to get you out of it?”

“Yes! Please!”

She groans. “You were supposed to say no! It’s too late. I accepted the date on your behalf and now he’s all excited. Are you really going to let the poor guy go to a wedding by himself? Only losers do that!”

This is a mess, and unfortunately, it’s not entirely Josie’s fault. I’m the idiot who asked her to start messaging him in the first place. I look up at her and she’s standing before me, blonde hair tied up in a bun, cheeks stained red with embarrassment. She’s wringing out her hands and trying very hard not to cry.

“I don’t have a dress, Josie.” I sigh with defeat.

“The thrift shop a few streets over is still open for another two hours,” she says softly, the edge of her mouth curving with the start of a smile.

“And what about…”

I trail off, realizing I don’t actually have another excuse.

She rushes forward and wraps her arms around my middle. “We’ll get you a dress! I’ll do your hair and makeup. I’ve been practicing on myself all day.” Well that explains the heavy eyeshadow; I thought it was a little much for a weekday afternoon. “You’ll look like Cinderella going to the ball!”

References like that remind me that in some ways, Josie is still so young. She wants to believe in fairy tales so badly, and I know I have no choice. I’ll go to the wedding even if the experience leaves me permanently scarred.

The next day, I sit dutifully in front of our bathroom mirror while my sister does my hair. I have a face full of fancy makeup I could have never done myself. My eyes have never seemed so bright thanks to the combination of eyeshadows she’s painstakingly applied over the last hour. It’s subtle and pretty. I should feel like a million bucks, but I feel nothing beyond the knot of tension in the pit of my stomach.

“Why does it seem like you don’t trust me?” she says, waving the curling iron over my head haphazardly. I cower to avoid getting burned. Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re about to sear my forehead. “I’ve been practicing these curls for weeks and you’re going to look amazing!”

I try to relax my features, but it’s no use. I’ve felt anxious ever since Dr. Russell dropped me off yesterday. I barely slept. I kept replaying his words, and I’ve come to two conclusions. One, he was right. I have no idea the kind of stress he deals with all day, every day. I can put my head down and focus on work a little more, but—two, he also has to admit fault. He can’t keep using me as a punching bag.

I have no clue what I’ll do come Monday morning. Should I address what happened in the car and apologize for my part of it? And if he’s unwilling to change, do I want to keep working for him?

Josie thinks I’m quiet and anxious because of the wedding. That’s why she’s taking extra care with my hair and makeup. It looks really good. Her obsession with beauty videos on YouTube has clearly paid off.

“There!” She sets down the curling iron. “Now we just need to brush out the curls so they look soft, like you’re an Old Hollywood movie star!”

I have exactly enough energy to give her a feeble thumbs-up.

Dress shopping yesterday took a lot out of me. The thrift shop we walked to in the rain is in a nicer area of town so it was filled with designer castoffs. I thought we’d just go in and grab the first thing we saw, but Josie turned it into a mini fashion show. In the end, after a lot of suffering on my part, she settled on a formfitting ice blue cocktail dress with an elegant floral lace overlay. The long sleeves cling to my arms all the way to my wrists, and the flowy skirt hits halfway down my thighs. An open back adds a touch of sexiness without seeming indecent.

I’ll be absolutely freezing if the wedding is outside.

She puts the finishing touches on my hair then steps back with a proud smile. “Gorgeous.” I smile at my reflection more for her sake than my own. My heart’s not in it tonight, no matter how hard I try. “Too bad we couldn’t afford a new coat. Your pink one doesn’t go with this at all.”

She’s right. It’s too casual, but it’s all I have at the moment.

“I’ll take it off right when we get inside,” I promise her. “Don’t worry, I won’t ruin all your hard work.”

The doorbell rings a few minutes later while I’m in the bathroom alone, giving myself a pep talk that centers more on trying to put Dr. Russell out of my mind than it does on my impending date. I close my eyes and see his dark, wet hair, the way his damp shirt clung to his biceps when he got back into the car, his large hands gripping the steering wheel as he drove me home in silence, and the disdain in his voice when he told me to grow up.

If I concentrate, I swear I can still smell him. His car held the same intoxicating scent as his office, but in the smaller space, it was magnified. The scent clings to my memory like those drops of rain were clinging to him.

“Bailey! Are you ready?” Josie shouts from the living room. “Cooper’s here!”

I blink my eyes open and meet my gaze in the mirror, trying on a weak, awkward smile before shaking my head and giving up. “Yes! Coming!”

Cooper is waiting for me by the door, and I’m surprised to see how handsome he looks. It’s been weeks since we met in the bar, and Smooth Tony’s was hazy and dark. My memory didn’t quite do him justice. His hair is a dark, ashy blond, thick and styled well. His suit is navy blue, and his light blue tie is clipped in place with a slice of silver metal. He’s put together and debonair in a way that makes me feel like a child in comparison.

His eyes glide down me and apparently I merit his approval, even with my pink coat, because he smiles wide and steps forward to kiss my cheek.

“You look great. When you told me you were wearing blue, I wanted to match.”

I’m slightly confused until I realize Josie must have texted him a hint about my outfit. I slice my gaze to her and she winks before shooing us out the door.

“Don’t hurry home! I have everything I need. I’m going to bury myself in Netflix and popcorn.”

“Don’t stay up too late,” I warn.

She laughs. “Of course. In bed by 10:00, you got it. Hey, it was nice to meet you, Cooper!”

“You too, Josie.”

He smiles back at her and I’m not surprised to see genuine affection in his eyes. Josie wins everyone over. She could walk into peace negotiations in the Middle East and have that situation buttoned up in no time.

“Your sister looks like you,” he notes as he leads me down the driveway toward a shiny black BMW purring at the curb.

I hum.

“She’s sweet.”

“Don’t let her guise fool you. She’s sly,” I warn with a shake of my head.

As he opens my door and takes my hand to help me step off the curb, Cooper informs me we’re running a little late.

I’m immediately worried. “How late are we talking?”

“Oh, just a few minutes. Nothing to worry about.”

He’s lying of course. Once I insist upon seeing the invitation, I realize we’re extremely late, only a few minutes shy of the bride making her descent down the aisle. Hell, there’s a chance we’ll walk in right as the preacher asks if anyone objects.

“My flight back from Cincinnati was delayed. Everyone will understand,” he promises after we park. He takes my hand and leads me toward the small church.

I hate being late. I especially hate being late to an event like this, and my worst fears are realized when Cooper opens the door to the chapel and every person in attendance turns in their pews to look back at us. Eyes blink expectantly. A small child asks if we’re the ones getting married. And yes, it really does feel like we’re the bride and groom making our way toward the altar. My cheeks burn. I want to yank my hand out of his, spin around, and walk right back outside, but of course, I can’t. I swallow and glance down to the floor, willing the color to drain from my face. It’s no use. I’m Rudolph.

The situation doesn’t bother Cooper in the least. I peer up to see that he’s smiling wide, waving and patting shoulders as we walk down the aisle at an annoyingly leisurely pace. He’s Prince Harry waving at his people.

I want to sit in the back, in the first pew we pass.

“What about here?” I say quickly, tugging him to the left. Bride’s side, groom’s side, floor, pew—who the hell cares. I just want to sit!

“My family’s up front. It looks like they saved us seats.”

Oh good. Next, he’ll tell me we’re actually going to stand up at the altar during the ceremony. You’ve officiated a wedding before, right?

I can’t make eye contact with anyone we pass because not only am I late, I’m also walking into a small, intimate wedding on the arm of a guy I barely know. Hell, I don’t even know his last name. Everyone is definitely judging me from head to toe, and now I wish I’d ditched my puffy jacket back in the foyer when Cooper offered to hang it up, but I didn’t want to delay us further.

“Cooper, there you are! I was worried you wouldn’t make it,” says a polite, feminine voice. It belongs to the woman standing up and waving us over. She has the same ashy blonde hair and easygoing smile as my date. She’s wearing a dark plum dress with a cashmere scarf tied stylishly around her shoulders. She is, of course, Cooper’s mother.

I wish we were meeting each other under different circumstances, but I aim a smile at her all the same. Her own smile widens in response and a small sense of relief rushes through me just before the world slips out from beneath my feet.

We’re turning into the pew when I freeze.

Cooper runs into me from behind and I nearly topple forward like a domino. He grabs my elbow to right me, but I can’t feel his touch because I’m staring at a figment of my imagination, or maybe it’s just my worst nightmare.

“Dr. Russell?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.

My boss shoots to his feet, all six-plus feet of him. My mouth hangs agape. My heart sputters to a screeching halt in my chest. He’s nothing but darkness—his hair, his suit, his demeanor—everything except for his blue eyes, which are the exact shade of my dress.

His gaze slices over to Cooper. “Are you kidding me? You brought her?”

He talks to him like they know each other.

Wait.

My gaze snaps back to Cooper.

Do they know each other?!

A heavy organ starts to echo around the chapel, announcing the start of the ceremony. Cooper ushers me forward and tugs me down so the backs of my thighs hit the hard wood of the pew.

His mom leans forward and narrows her eyes on Dr. Russell. “Do you know Cooper’s date?”

At the same time, Cooper’s hand hits my shoulder. “Here, let me get your coat.”

I lean forward and let him tug it off.

Everything is happening so fast.

“Yes, Mom. We work together,” Dr. Russell answers simply, turning back to me.

“How is this—”

My sentence trails off at the exact moment I lay eyes on the man on the other side of Cooper’s mom, the last person in their group. His black hair might be sprinkled with salt and the glasses perched on the end of his nose detract from the similarities, but there’s no doubt I’m staring at Dr. Russell’s father.

Equations swirl in my head. So, if that woman is Cooper’s mom…and that man is Dr. Russell’s dad then…E = mc²?

“Matt’s my brother,” Cooper whispers quickly in my ear before he lays my coat on the pew on the other side of him.

The word collides into me with the subtlety of a Mack truck.

BROTHER. As in related, as in I’m sandwiched between my date and my boss. Brothers. The man I’m supposed to be into and the man I can’t get out of my head. This makes absolutely no sense. I have so many questions and I can’t ask them because there is a freaking wedding ceremony taking place around us. The mother of the bride and the mother of the groom are gushing and pink and sparkly and they’re being ushered down the aisle so they can take their seats two pews in front of ours.

It’d be rude to talk now, so I bite my tongue and try to stare straight ahead. Good. There. Focus on Jesus.

It doesn’t work.

I’m well aware I’m shaking while the men around me sit perfectly still. This isn’t as shocking to them as it is to me. What did Dr. Russell say when he first saw me?

“You brought her?”

So he was surprised to see me here, but not surprised to see that I knew Cooper.

What the hell does that mean?

I can feel Dr. Russell’s gaze on me. He wants me to turn toward him, but I won’t. I shift a little in my seat and now his thigh presses against mine. He doesn’t move away, and I don’t know what to do. The lacy fabric of my dress bunches up between us, but it doesn’t matter. His suit pants are searing my skin all the same, and it’s so hot we’re fused now, because no matter how much I scream at myself to move away, I can’t. It’s just not possible.

Cooper’s hand wraps around mine on the other side and he squeezes reassuringly.

A moment later, Dr. Russell’s hand clenches around his wedding program.

I frown and he must catch it because he offers the program to me, like that’s what I wanted—his stupid program. The backs of our fingers barely touch as I take it and yet the contact zips across my heart like he just hauled me up against a wall and kissed me.

Kissed me.

I stifle a laugh.

Grow up.

I might not be able to move my leg from his, but I turn my body so I’m angled toward the aisle, toward Cooper. My long hair falls over my shoulder and I can feel Dr. Russell’s gaze on the back of my neck and my bare back. Why did I pick this dress? Oh right, it wasn’t my choice.

I can’t believe this is happening. Yesterday’s car ride was intense to say the least. I thought I’d have another 24 hours to work up what I wanted to say to him. Now here we are, thigh to thigh at a wedding. And there’s that smell again, his cologne. I want to buy up every bottle in existence and pour them down a toilet.

Cooper catches my eye, smiles, and mouths, “Sorry.”

I don’t say a word.

There’ll be plenty of time for explanations after the ceremony when I don’t have a million pairs of curious eyes focused on me.