Page 71 of Bridesmaid to Bride

I clear my throat, apologetic. “Foster—I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Sorry?” He arches an eyebrow, a half-smile playing on his lips. “For what? Kissing a guy who you clearly care for deeply? Please.” He waves a dismissive hand. “You can’t help how you feel, Eva.”

“Can’t I?” My voice is a mix of confusion and genuine curiosity.

“Believe me.” He leans against the doorframe. “Trying to fight feelings is an exercise in futility.”

“It seems to be,” I murmur, impressed despite myself.

“You and West.” There’s that half-smile again, cryptic. “Make sense.”

“Make sense,” I echo, dubious. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you?” I say as a question because I still can’t believe this conversation is going down this way.

“I get it, and I’m okay. Honestly, you’re not the woman I thought you’d be, Eva. Not in a bad way, just... different.”

“Ouch,” I say, but it’s clearly in jest.

“So, no hard feelings?” He straightens up, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Not at all. We’re just two ships passing in the night.”

His brows knit. “Wait, I didn’t say that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want this to end.” He reaches forward and takes my hand. “So you have feelings for someone else. I’ve had plenty of feelings for others too. But what we can have together is far greater than that.”

I blink. “Which is what, exactly?”

“A lifetime partnership based on the commonalities that’re important—dedication, duty, and ensuring the security of both our families and our families’ names.”

“Oh, right.” I don’t know why his words have caught me off-guard. This is exactly what my goal has been since this weekend started: to prioritize the very things he’s just said. But somehow, hearing them voiced out loud makes dread trickle down my spine. I look down and brush off my dress as I recompose myself. “I’m not sure.”

“Just think on it. Your feelings may change when you get to New York and away from the whirlwind of emotions.” He gives an easy nod. “If you want to pursue something with me then, give me a call.”

“Oh. That’s very thoughtful.” And logical. And businesslike. I’m rooted to the floor, eyebrows knitting together as I process the lack of fireworks, of smoke, of... anything, really. This was supposed to be a showdown, not a polite, logical matchmaking session. “I’ll do that.”

“Good.” He opens the door and just like that, he’s gone, leaving me alone with a mixture of relief and even more confusion than I had five minutes ago.

I sit on my room’s couch, still waiting for West to reply to my text. I need to see him—what a fuck-tastic night.

That’s when I notice that a big envelope’s been slid under my door.

I rush over to pick it up, my heart racing. I rip it open with wild abandon; paper cuts be damned.

“Eva,” it begins. The words following shock my system. My father’s voice echoes in my head with every syllable.

If you come to New York now, I’ll make you an equal partner at the firm.

“Equal partner?” Without Foster’s help? Now? I’m not ready—Dad must be so desperate!

I keep scanning.

A corner office.

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