Page 3 of So Wrong, It's Wright
“It’s fine.” He smiles and my entire reproductive system lights up. I am no longer in control of my body. “I’m in Atlanta because that’s where my job is. It’s also where my mother lives, and it’s only a couple of hour’s flight away from my sister, Camille and this asshole.” He lifts his chin, nodding toward Tanner as he and Ruby disappear out the main doors, the rest of us in tow.
“Oh. You have a secret sister too?”
“Half-sister—she’s from my father’s second marriage—but she’s no secret. She works at Wright Media like the rest of the family and hates every moment of it.”
“Why doesn’t she leave then? Go her own way?”
“And risk getting cut off and written out of Dad’s Will the way I did?”Cut off? Written out?My brain grabs hold of that tidbit.Does this mean heisn’ta rich asshole?
“Your Dad cut you off? What did you do?” I can’t help the questions that fly from my mouth. It’s probably none of my business, but I’m actually getting excited. If he’s not rich, it means all I need to ascertain is if he’s an asshole. And if he’s not an asshole, that means that for once in my life, I’m attracted to someone outside my ‘type’. This could be the moment I break the cycle! Hallelujah! If this is true, I can let my lady parts lead the charge here without worry.
“I refused to fall in line. Chose to be a medical engineer instead of a cog in the Wright Media wheel. The moment I applied to CalTech and got in, he was done with me.”
“Oh, my gosh!” I feel bad for him, but at the same time, I’m kind of praising myself. All that soul searching over the past few months might have finally opened my eyes. I have an instant attraction to a man with morals—what is this life? I’m so excited I could fist pump and pat myself on the back. But we’re having a serious conversation, so I refrain. “Do you still talk to your sister?”
“I do. But she hides the fact, so she doesn’t piss off dear old Dad and risk her cushy job,” he says, glancing at me. “Her own words, not mine.”
“And yet she hates the work.”
“She does. But she says she’d shovel shit every day if it means a fat bank account and early retirement.” Nowhewinces. “Shit. This is a terrible conversation for a wedding recessional. Not to mention you’re a reporter. Fuck. Please don’t write about any of this.” He turns his worried blue eyes my way. “I have no idea why this is all coming out of my mouth. You just make me nervous and I’m vomiting words.” He claps a hand over his mouth and giggles. Hegiggles.And I melt.
“I make you nervous?” I can’t help but laugh. It’s become abundantly clear that Ash Wright is not what I expected at all. I think that maybe, for the first time in my life, I’m interested in a regular—albeit ruggedly handsome—guy. My uterus does a happy twirl.Go me!
“Um, yeah. Incredibly,” he says as we make our way through the huge double doors into the maze of corridors that’ll lead us to the side of the church where the cars are waiting. “I may share a surname with Tanner, but we’re night and day personality wise. I do not share his confidence at all when it comes to beautiful woman.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” I’m grinning and he’s turning red. I am actually swooning so hard right now that I hug myself to him a little.He’s mine. I’m keeping him.
“Fuck. Why can’t I shut up around you?” He wipes a hand over his face, grinning as he shakes his head. “And this is only going to get worse once we start drinking. Anything I say tonightneeds to be off the record, OK?”
Throwing my head back, I laugh, liking everything about this guy so far, and loving that my initial impression of him was so incredibly wrong. “I’m not that kind of journalist, I promise. I work for BuzzFeed in the list department, so I’m no more cutthroat than a kitten with an eye patch. Your secrets are safe with me. Well, except for the ‘beautiful woman’ part. I’m going to write that on a post it and stick it to my mirror so I see it every morning when I wake up.”
“Yeah?” He tilts his head toward me, and I nod. “In that case, give me a post it and I’ll write itforyou. ‘Beautiful badass,’it’ll say. You should never look in the mirror and think anything else.”Swoon.
“Where have you been all my life, Ash Wright?” I say, looking up at him as we step out of the church.
He looks down at me and smiles. “Atlanta.”
With a smile that won’t quit, I turn to the sound of confetti poppers going off as Ruby and Tanner walk toward the first car. The area has been cordoned off so the paparazzi can’t get too close, but they’re still hanging about the perimeter with their telephoto lenses, no doubt sending pictures off to their editors as fast as possible to be the first to break the story.
“You know any of them?” Ash asks as I look toward the guarded barricade where all the press is gathered.
“No. Writing about Tanner’s dad was as close as I got to a newsroom. But that was onetime thing that got me blackballed since Wright Media has so much control.”
“Is that something you still want to do?” he asks, stepping to the side so I can get into our car.
“Of course. Writing lists is the pits. But it pays the bills—barely—and at the end of the day, what I did helped Tanner help Camille, so it was worth it to see everyone happy.” I’ve messed up a lot in my life and my career. I’ve been a sub-par friend and a terrible judge of character. But publishing that article was probably the only great thing I ever did. I stand by it whole heartedly. I flash him a half-smile as he settles into the back of the car beside me and we’re closed in.
“I’m sorry my family is keeping your talent down,” he says, his gaze softening as sincerity coats his words. For some reason, his candor makes me blush and want to change the subject.
“Oh, it’s fine. I wasn’t going anywhere fast, anyway, if I’m honest. No big deal.”
“It was a very big deal, Tahlia,” he says, placing his hand on top of mine. “Just look at Camille.” He points out the window, where we can see Camille laughing as her carer helps get her and her wheelchair loaded into the purpose-built van. “Then look at Tanner and Ruby.” I shift my gaze and find them staring at each other lovingly before pressing their lips together for one last kiss before they get into the first car that we’ll all follow to the reception venue. “You see how easy they smile? What you did gave them that. You’re a hero.”
“A hero in a really weird dress,” I say, deflecting while I twist my hips to show off the pink tulle half-skirt Darren insisted we all wear, along with our matching stilettos, of course. “I love Darren, but drag queens should not be allowed to choose bridesmaid dresses or shoes. I can barely walk. I’m petrified I’m going to trip on this tulle and break my neck.”
Ash releases a hearty chuckle. “In that case, I think you need to give the weird half-skirt to me,” he says, holding out his hand before looking out the window and checking that no one’s looking our way.
“Why?” I ask, smiling as I do what he says and hand it to him.
