Page 33 of Eastern Lights

I shouted as I turned around to see Jason staring at me with a tuxedo in his grip. “Oh my gosh! Get out of here! You can’t see me in the dress before the wedding!” I ordered, darting behind the couch to try to hide.

“You don’t really believe in those silly traditions, do you?” Jason said, brushing his thumb against his nose. “Just get up, Aaliyah. I already saw it.”

“No!” I said, feeling silly for hiding but not wanting him to get another peek at the gown. I wasn’t extremely superstitious or anything, but one thing I did believe in was that it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding day.

Thankfully, Marie was on the same page as me. “She’s right! What are you doing, Jason? I told you to call before you stopped by.”

“I did. Dad’s and your phones are on silent. Plus, Aaliyah’s went to voicemail. Listen, I’m just here to drop off Dad’s tux for Saturday.”

“Put it in the foyer and then leave. We’ll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal,” Marie told him.

I could almost feel Jason rolling his eyes at the thought of it all. When it came to superstitions, he believed in none of them.

“Whatever. I’m leaving.” He began to walk away and then glanced over his shoulder toward me. “Aaliyah?”

“Yes?”

He smirked widely. “Your ass looks fat in that dress.”

“Take that language elsewhere,” Marie said as she threw a couch pillow at her son, who hurried away, slamming the door behind him.

Marie looked at me as I stood straight, and the warmth of her smile made me grin. “He’s right, you know. You look to die for.”

7

Connor

I hadn’t hada good night’s sleep in weeks, and my overprotective mother was concerned.

I didn’t even tell her I hadn’t been sleeping, but she always seemed to be able to tell.

“You really need more sleep, Connor Ethan, and a girlfriend,” she’d always say. I didn’t know how, but she somehow managed to toss the word girlfriend into almost every conversation. She was gifted in that way.

My mother was convinced I was going to die alone. She called me weekly to remind me. On the days she had too much wine, she’d cry about it over FaceTime. She often reminded me that I was a workaholic and didn’t take enough personal days. She wasn’t wrong about that. Day in and day out, I worked myself to exhaustion.

At times, my days felt more like years. I was proud of many parts of my life, but being a workaholic wasn’t one of them. Sometimes I wondered what would’ve come of me if I hadn’t pushed so hard to make a name for myself in the world. Then again, if I hadn’t pushed myself, I wouldn’t have been able to give back to the world in the ways I’d been able to give. Every sacrifice comes with its own set of negatives.

I’d take long days and nights if it meant I helped make someone else’s life a bit easier. Still, a few large coffees were needed to get me through the long days.

“I have the afternoon reports and coffee for you, Mr. Roe—I mean, if you aren’t busy. Because if you are busy, I can come back when you aren’t busy, and I mean—if you’re not busy, I can update you now on the calls that came in and the emails that, um, I mean—”

“Slow down, Rose,” I said, looking up toward the nervous girl who stood in the doorway of my office, pretty much shivering in her heels. “Right now is a perfect time for the updates.”

Rose was pretty much a kid. It seemed odd to say because she was nineteen, and I was twenty-eight, so there were only nine years between us, but I knew for certain I wasn’t the same man I’d been nine years before.

She was the new intern at Roe Real Estate, and the poor girl’s nerves got in her way more often than not. I didn’t mind, though. We all had to start somewhere, and I was willing to put up with her slipups and mishaps. Everyone deserves a chance in life.

Plus, she only came in twice a week in the afternoon, so she couldn’t do too much damage.

Rose took a breath and walked into the room, tripping a bit over her own two feet before catching herself by gripping the back of one of my office chairs. She stood straight and cleared her throat before setting the coffee on the edge of my desk. Thankfully she didn’t spill that since I was in desperate need of a caffeine kick.

She looked down at her paperwork and began speaking. Even though she was still nervous about working for the company, I could tell she was becoming more comfortable week by week because her voice didn’t shake as much as it had before. Progress.

“Well, four magazines reached out with massive offers for you to do interviews with them,” she explained.

“I don’t do interviews.”

“Yes. Right. But they are offering hefty amounts of money for an exclusive cover and—”

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