Page 287 of The Billionaires

We proceed forward, and plenty of people look up at us and take a picture—which is an unforeseen benefit of the noise. The cacophony has another advantage too. It tempers some of the emotions stirred up by that much-too-real kiss. I need that, to be calmer, if I’m to survive the first dance and the rest of the activities we have planned.

After what feels like an hour of ear torture, we finally stop.

“Wow,” Jane says. “You weren’t kidding. This place fits the theme perfectly.”

I proudly puff out my chest. The Palace Hotel was one of my few contributions to the wedding plans. I did some research, and it came up on a list of locations where an actual royal wedding has taken place.

Oh, and the best part is that it looks as the name would imply—like a palace.

When we enter the lobby, Jane spots the porters and grins. I smile too. The guys are wearing cosplay-style costumes that include capes, bicorns, and bright pantaloons.

“If I were the owner, I would’ve stopped at the parrots,” I whisper to Jane as I take in the birds filling the lobby. “The peacocks are a bit of a cliché.”

“I love it all,” she says, gawking at one of said peacocks. “This is the closest you can get to having a fairytale wedding.”

I’m glad she thinks so. Booking this place wasn’t just a matter of money. You have to request the Palace far in advance, which I didn’t, so I had to entice the couple who held today’s slot with a wedding at The Pikaia Lodge in Ecuador.

“Mr. Westfield?” asks one of the bicorn-clad dudes.

I nod.

The guy lifts a walkie-talkie to summon Kevin, the photographer I hired.

Jane chuckles when she spots Kevin, and I smile as well. Kevin seems to have taken the wedding theme a little bit too close to the heart because he’s dressed like some sort of a duke, and even holds a quizzing glass to his eye when he examines us plebeians.

I assume Kevin grudgingly approves of what he sees because he waves for us to follow him.

When we enter the giant room where the photoshoot is to take place, everyone who has the honor of being in the wedding album is already waiting for us—including Leo, who’s standing next to his new (male) dog walker.

Spotting the big green screen in the back, Jane looks askance at me.

“So we can create any background we want,” I explain. “Don’t worry, it will look so realistic everyone will think we were at that location.”

“Can one of them be Hyde Park?” Jane asks. Glancing at the rest of our posse, she explains, “That’s where the members of the British aristocracy would typically hang out in Victorian times.”

Kevin glares at Jane haughtily through his quizzing glass. “‘Any’ background obviously includes Hyde Park and every other park.”

I angrily clear my throat. “Kevin, you’re not actually a duke.”

Looking sheepish, the photographer pockets his quizzing glass and grabs the camera. In a much more respectful tone, he says, “Why don’t we start with the family of the bride?”

Jane’s grandmother—what was her name?—and her sister, Mary, rush over to where Kevin points. Jane’s mother, Georgiana, walks up to me, with Piper’s security guard on her tail. With great reluctance, Georgiana places Piper back into my arms.

“I feel like she’s part of our family already,” she says with a sigh.

I hold Piper to my chest and feel a rollercoaster of warring emotions. Love and contentment win the mix—because I feel them so strongly anytime I’m in my daughter’s presence. But there are notes of longing and jealousy in my chest too because Jane has this whole family with her, and Piper is the only member of mine.

“She can be in the pictures with you,” I say and force myself to offer Piper back.

Beaming with happiness, Georgiana grabs the baby and reunites with Jane’s peeps.

Leo drags his new overseer over, then reassuringly sticks his wet nose into the palm of my hand.

You don’t just have Piper. You’ve got me too.

Smiling, I pet my sheep-like best friend. Speaking of friends, Bernard, Warren, and Michael are walking my way.

Instantly, my self-pity party is over. The other kids at the prep school called our group The Four Musketeers, and it fits because we got into as many scrapes as the famous Dumas’ characters.

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