Page 75 of Resisting the Billionaire

Or maybe she somehow found out I went over to Gabriel’s apartment.

No, no. How would she even know about that?

“I, um,” she starts, then pauses. “I don’t have anyone else to talk to.” Her voice trembles before she lets out a small laugh. “But you probably figured that out when I didn’t choose any attendants.”

It’s true, I’ve never worked on a wedding where the bride literally had no one as even a maid of honor. “Okay… you can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to marry Gabriel.”

I thought we’d already discussed this. “I know.”

“I mean, I won’t marry him. I’m going to tell my dad tonight.”

All the breath leaves my body, almost like the wind was knocked out of me, and it takes me a moment to recover, but she’s still speaking.

“I wanted to tell you before the whole thing blows up. And I’ll make sure you’re paid, don’t worry. You’ve done so much and you deserve full compensation. I actually have a fundraiser I was hoping to hire you for in a few months time since you’ve proven to be so capable.”

Seriously, I don’t know what to say, even as emotions start flooding through me. Guilt for her praise when I went behind her back last night. Elation that she’s ending this whole charade. Hope that there’s possibly a chance for me and Gabriel.

“Am I making the right decision?”

“I…” What can I say? How is anything I tell her not completely biased? “You’re very brave for doing it, and yes, I think it’s the right decision. You don’t deserve to be trapped in a loveless marriage.”

She lets out a relieved breath, my heart soaring, just as the pit in my stomach sinks. I’m going to hell for this, aren’t I?

“Thanks, Mackenzie. I’m so glad I have you to talk to.”

Shame stabs me with little needles under my skin, but I push the sensation away as best I can. It’s not like I really influenced her. She came to the decision all by herself.

Or was it because you interrogated her the last time you spoke to her? Made her start truly questioning things?

No, those were legitimate questions. I didn’t tell her outright to call off the engagement.

And if it’s Serena calling it off, Mr. Bishop can’t fault Gabriel. He held up his end of the bargain.

“If you need anything from me,” I tell her, “please let me know. I’ll handle all the cancelations, any disappointed vendors or guests. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you,” she says again, sounding excited for the first time. Happy, even. Maybe this has been weighing on her more than I realized.

She hangs up, and I find myself at a loss, carefully setting my phone on my desk. Did that actually happen? Is Gabriel really unengaged? Free to be with who he wants?

And he said he wants me.

My stomach swarms with butterflies, an indescribable lightness filling me.

I still have lots to do tonight. Finding potential venues that fit the style and budget of an upcoming wedding. Following up with a baker who was creating a design for a client’s retirement party cake in a few weeks. Replying to yet another inquiry about a couple needing a wedding planner for next year. I’d planned on staying here late then taking my laptop home with me and working some more.

But all those tasks fade in the wake of this news.

I find myself packing up my things and practically skipping to the subway station, heading toward the Upper East Side.

“Ms. Sweet,” the doorman greets me, bowing his head slightly.

I walk in to the polished marble lobby, the other man at the desk already striding toward the elevator to call it for me. Talk about service.

“Have a pleasant evening,” he says as I step in, nothing untoward about his tone. But yeah, pretty sure it’ll be averypleasant evening.

My reflection stares back at me as the doors close and I realize I should have stopped home first, even if it was out of my way. Should have showered again or brushed my teeth. Something to prepare myself.

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