Page 73 of Fake Dark Vows
“You’re not working tomorrow?”
I shake my head, finish my drink, and examine the glass. “I’m on my honeymoon.”
She chews her bottom lip, the gesture already becoming so familiar that I look out for it when we’re talking. “Couldn’t you have postponed today’s meeting?”
I go back into the room, fetch myself another drink and bring a soda back for Rose. “I thought it would resolve the situation. Turns out, I was sent on a wild goose chase.”
“Was the meeting canceled?”
I peer at her from over the top of my brandy glass. “What’s this all about, Rose? You should be enjoying Vegas, not worrying about me.”
She pops the can and sips her soda, squeezing her eyes shut briefly, color suddenly returning to her face in the form of pink highlights on her cheekbones. “I read the email, Brandon.” Her voice shrinks with the confession that is obviously causing her discomfort. “The one from Sam.”
“How?” Now the brandy is starting to take effect.
“You left your iPad behind. I-I wanted to?—”
“You went through my iPad?”
“No! You left the email open. I read it and then I… I know I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry, but I promise you I didn’t see anything else.”
“What were you hoping to find, Rose? Something to use against me when this is over, and our marriage is annulled?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t looking for anything.”
“Are you going to tell me that the device just landed in your lap and unlocked itself?” I’m on my feet.
I don’t know why I’m so angry with her. Disappointment maybe. With her. With myself. I’d convinced myself that she was different, and the realization that she’s just like everyone else, out to make an easy quick buck, presses heavily on my chest.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To the bar. Come and find me when you’re ready.”
“Brandon, I would never do anything to?—”
I don’t wait around for her to finish the sentence.
CHAPTER 24
Rose
He had every right to be angry with me. Logging into someone else’s device is probably illegal, but to someone like Brandon Weiss, the information stored in his emails alone could be life-changing if used against him.
I shouldn’t have confessed. I wanted to help him, and now he’ll never trust me again.
I dress for the show in jeans with sequin strips down the sides, and a gold silk shirt that fastens above the waistband with a neat knot. I keep my makeup natural, and my hair long and wavy. The excitement that has been bubbling inside me all afternoon has evaporated and been replaced with a sickly sense of dread.
How will Brandon be tonight? Attentive? The doting newlywed husband? Or brusque, barely civil enough to satisfy the onlookers’ curiosity that this is real?
I’m about to leave the room when I remember the wedding ring. I go back for it and slide it onto my finger, taking a deep breath as I shut the door behind me and make my way to the elevator.
My stomach twists when I enter the bar. I can’t find Brandon. I surreptitiously check out the tables, avoiding the glances of the people sitting back and sipping champagne and cocktails, and head slowly to the bar, trying to appear nonchalant. I’m prepared to turn around and leave, praying that no one will notice, when my gaze drifts to the gleaming black piano being played on a round podium.
Brandon is sitting behind it next to a black guy with huge sad eyes and the widest smile I’ve ever seen. They’re playing a tune together, their eyes fixated on the keys.
I stop and listen. It’s a jazz tune, something I’ve never heard before, and would never recognize if I heard it again, but there’s something about the way Brandon is playing that melts me inside. I can no more turn around and walk away from him than I could tell my dad about the guilt that has suffocated me all my life.
I don’t move. I watch him, mesmerized by the look on his face, and I try to believe that everything is going to be okay. It will work out the way it’s supposed to, and although I don’t know what this means for us both exactly, I’m trusting the universe to see us both right.