Page 68 of Strung Along
I’m about to welcome her into my world. I just hope to God she doesn’t run.
“You have bigger balls than I thought you did,” Rita mumbles.
I furrow my brows. “Thanks?”
“I wouldn’t take it as a compliment. I’ll tell Garrison you need the time, but it’ll be him you have to fight this battle with, not me.”
“I don’t even have doctor sign-off yet. I’m not healthy enough regardless of the fact I want to stay longer.”
She digests that, rolling her lips for a moment before saying, “Fine.” Her phone pings, and she reads the screen with a nod. “Time to go.”
“Any last-minute words of encouragement?” I swallow my panic before it has a chance to surface.
She pins me with a steady gaze that lacks her usual coldness. “You know the songs. Know the pitch. I’ve never heard you give a bad performance.”
I pull my head back slightly, surprised. “Thanks.”
“Thank me after you’ve had a good performance. This is a wedding and not an opening show in New York. Try to remind yourself of that.”
If only she knew that having Anna out in the crowd at this wedding feels like a bigger deal than any stadium show I’ve ever done.
27
ANNALISE
My leg bouncesbeneath the table, the lace tablecloth tickling the bare skin of my thigh exposed from the slit in my dress. I can feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning blowing over my shoulders, but the heat beneath my skin doesn’t fade like I wish it would.
I haven’t been able to tear my eyes from the stage at the head of the ballroom since we arrived at the hotel. The navy and plum colours of the wedding are everywhere, from the gorgeous floral centrepieces and frilly material hung along the length of the head table to the petals on centre stage.
The same centre stage that Brody will be standing on any minute now. My nerves mix with a dull throb of annoyance. He knew I would be here. If he was always meant to be the entertainment for this wedding reception, then he damn well knew once he saw my initial text and pieced together who I was that we would be at the same wedding.
He knew and didn’t tell me.
From the moment Braxton told me he would be here, all of my past insecurities flooded back, damn near choking me. Two hours later, I’m still nowhere close to okay.
I hate that I’ve let myself think negatively, but I’m only so strong. Only so damn brave. I’ve fought falling into a spiral, and even that took too much energy out of me.
It’s obvious to me that I would have wanted to go to this wedding with him had I known that he would be here too. I would have loved being his date, if he’d have wanted that too. Clearly, he didn’t want that at all. He didn’t want it badly enough that he hid his plans from me.
My first thought was that he was embarrassed of me. That I was only a woman he wanted around when he was at home, away from the spotlight of his normal life. That was the most painful conclusion. It tore me up deep, and the small pulse of pain in my chest as I recall it is proof enough of why I refuse to let myself wander there again.
From what I know of Brody so far, he isn’t the type of guy to hide a woman from anyone. I’ve met both of his grandparents and a handful of Steele Ranch employees. So why the secrecy now?
I swallow the lump in my throat and tap my fingers on the tablecloth, glancing around the table. Our table number has been burned into the wood sign beside the floral centrepiece, and our names have been written out in a gorgeous cursive over thick parchment and laid out on top of our napkins. The decorations are very rustic but with a soft glam vibe that fits really nicely. All in all, it’s nice enough that I forgive the bride for her ridiculous wedding dress approval process. It did lead me to Brody, after all.
This is the first wedding I’ve been to since my sister and Maddox married. I always thought mine would be next. It should have been. But I’m not as devastated by that as I anticipated.
Marriage wasn’t for me long before I met Stewart. I was a fool to believe a man had changed my perspective so easily.Accepting his proposal was a moment of weakness after a lifetime of bravery. A desire to be taken care of by someone who I thought wanted to do so for the rest of his life.
Boy, was I wrong.
“You look deep in thought,” Braxton says, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.
Maddox flexes his arm where it’s resting along the back of my sister’s chair and strokes her shoulder. “You okay, Little Heights?”
“I’m trying not to run out of here,” I tell him honestly.
“Before I get to see you give your man an ass beating? Not allowed,” Maddox argues.