Page 81 of Tied Up in Riches

“Us.” I grin, reaching over and linking my arm through his. “Do you think everyone will be excited?”

He chuckles. “You haven’t told them already?”

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors whoosh open. He lets me out first and I glance back at him with a smirk. “There might have been a group chat text.”

“Might have been, huh?”

“There definitely was. But you know how Lexy gets when she wants answers. It’s not my fault.”

“You can tell them anything you want, love.” He jogs ahead a step to open the door from the quiet pristine lobby to the dirty hustle and bustle of Times Square lit by the orange and pink glow of the sunrise.

“I don’t want to tell them everything. Some things I want to save just for us.” I smile up at him as he takes my hand and leads me through the chaos of the crosswalk.

“Whatever you want,” he tells me, but there’s an undertone in his voice that I can’t quite place in his silence as we finish crossing the street.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. We’re here.” He opens the door to the live studio building.

Something feels off, but I can’t quite place it. Maybe nerves. This is a pretty big deal.

Even though we won’t be on screen, we both dressed to impress. Marcus is in the suit he wore to casino night, looking like he belongs in one of these high rises. I’m wearing black skinny jeans with a white flowy shirt, short brown boots and a navy blazer–the same thing I wore the first day I met Emma and Charlotte. I don’t look as fancy as he does, but I still look great. Plus, I curled my hair and did my makeup this morning.

We follow signs to the right room, on the second floor, and down a few hallways. Marcus opens the heavy metal door, letting me walk through first. The lighting is dimmed everywhere except the stage in the distance, but when we scan the room, we both lock on to two pairs of eyes staring back at us. I glance at Marcus, but it's clear by the surprise and grin on his face that he was not expecting to see his best friend or his fiancée. “Hey, man.” He reaches to bro-hug Dean. “What are you doing here?” He takes a turn with Maci who hugs me as soon as she releases him, whispering a ‘hi.’

“Miss your TV debut? Not a chance.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be on screen.”

Maci interrupts. “Emma and Charlotte said they aren’t letting you get out of it. That they couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Don’t worry. I also got you something to improve your outfit.” Dean smirks and Marcus’ eyebrow quirks. Dean pulls a rolled up tie from the back pocket of his jeans. As he holds it up, the tie unrolls, revealing the most incredible and hideous fabric I’ve ever seen. It’s a picture of who I’m assuming is Dean and Marcus as kids printed in repeat over the tie. They’re both wearing soccer jerseys. Marcus is standing with a hand on one hip, a foot on top of a soccer ball. His hair is long and blowing in his eyes a bit. Dean holds a soccer ball under one arm and has his other looped around his friend’s neck. They both have goofy grins on their faces. They’re probably not any older than six or seven.

“Fucking hell,” Marcus mutters, shaking his head, but he’s holding back a laugh as he reaches for the tie. “Where did you get this atrocity?”

“It’s been sitting in my dresser since high school. I told you I believed in you, man.”

It feels like we’re in the middle of a secret Maci and I aren’t in on, but by the way she’s holding back her amusement, it seems she’s a little more clued in than I am.

“I’m not there yet.” The way Marcus’ gaze shifts to mine momentarily after he says it only heightens the unease slowly taking over.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to say that after this quarter.” Dean is confident. What the hell are they talking about? “So, you’re wearing that. A deal is a deal.”

I shift uncomfortably, feeling like a stranger trapped between two friends chatting on a bus.

Marcus chuckles, running the fabric of the tie through his fingers. “I don’t want to take away anything from Emma and Charlotte. I’ll wear it to dinner tonight.”

“Deal.” Dean shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Maci leans in to side hug Marcus again. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” He squeezes her shoulder with his hand not holding the tie. “Do we still have some time? Can I talk to Brooke for a few minutes?”

Maci glances up at him and pulls away. “Yes!” She smiles. “Brooke, meet me over there by the cookie table when Marcus has to go. We can watch the show together.”

“Okay.” I force a smile, but I’m nervous all of a sudden. Nervous and very confused. Dean and Maci excuse themselves, and Marcus turns to me.

“I need to talk to you.”

---