There’s just something about Sunshine. She smiles, then glances toward the exit, then left. “Take that hall, and it’ll bring you out near the front desk. Marco’s gone for the night, but the night clerk should be on—Keelyn. I’m guessing you’d rather not go back out through the party dressed like that?”
I look down at my ridiculous outfit. “Good guess. Thank you, Sunshine. Really.”
“It’s nothing. Good luck with the dress.”
I wave with the wet garment in one hand, and we split off—her back out to the party, me down the corridor toward my room. The fluorescent light hums overhead. I think about what she said, about Pearl closing off when I walked in. I think about my dad. And I think about Logan.
By the time I make it back to my room, I’m too tired and wrung out to do more than sleep.
Chapter 17: Logan
“It was an accident,” Pearl hisses for the fourth time, and, like all the other times, I ignore her and sip my drink.
Dash and I keep looking toward the employee entrance. I try not to notice Reign rubbing hand sanitizer on his hands for the third time since we sat down. He’s particular, and we do our best not to draw attention to his idiosyncrasies.
“The ceremony backdrop was just stunning,” Harlow says to Pearl, trying to lighten the mood that’s settled over our table like a wet blanket. “Those florals. It’s going to be incredible tomorrow, you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Thank you, I spent months on those calls—” Pearl explains about the florist, then the caterer, then something about the resort’s lighting that she requested be adjusted. I watch her hands move as she talks.
“Don’t you think, Logan?”
I look up. Pearl is watching me, waiting. Her eyes soften. One second she’s shooting me these anxious glances, the next she’s looking at me like we’re the only two people at the table. I feel so off-kilter by my friendship with her, it’s fucking with my head. I’m also too pissed to indulge her, so I snap, “What are you asking me?”
She sits up a little straighter. “That this was the perfect venue for a wedding.” There’s something behind her eyes when she says it. Griffin, across the table, lets out a groan and drags a hand down his face. “We all get it, Pearl.” Then he mumbles into his whiskey glass, “Subtle as a fucking ox.”
“Excuse me?” She turns to him, sharp. I stay out of it. Pearl and Griffin have always been a little testy with each other, not unlike me and Rose, except Pearl at least keeps it civil. Griffin less so.
Dash fills the silence talking about work—a merger that’s been in motion since his father’s heart attack, when Dash stepped up to CEO. It’s why he flew down early. One last break before returning and likely working himself into the ground for the next three-to-five years.
When his posture shifts, eyes lasering in on something behind me, I spin in my seat. Sunshine is weaving through the tables toward us, alone. I’m on my feet before she reaches us.
“Where is she?”
She grins, waving breezily. “She went back to her room. She’s—”
I don’t let her finish. I’m already moving toward the door. The flash of annoyance that Rose left without telling me dissolves almost immediately—why would she stay? Why would she come back to that table after what Pearl just did to her?
It was more than spilled red wine on a beautiful dress. I know that now.
The subtle jabs I’d written off because I thought Rose deserved to be put in her place. The way Pearl never had a single good thing to say about Rose—not one—and I’d nodded along, let it form my opinion of someone I barely knew. The way Pearl would dissolve into tears the second I pushed back on anything, redirecting the entire conversation until I forgot what I’d evenasked. I’d watched her do it to other people. I’d let her do it to me.
Rose tried to tell me that first night, and I wouldn’t hear it. I’d written it off as drama between sisters.
I feel like such an asshole.
I’m moving faster now, nearly jogging by the time I reach her door and knock hard.
It swings open after only a few seconds. She’s clearly exhausted—her long dark hair hangs loose and tangled, mascara smudged.
“Hey—” she starts, but I push into the room and wrap her up in my arms.
She stands there for a moment, stiff. After a few seconds she finally softens, arms coming around my waist, and she rests her head against my chest. I feel her exhale.
“I’m sorry about what happened.”
She shrugs against me, then pulls back to look up. “Not your fault.”
“I didn’t listen. You tried to tell me what Pearl was like, and I didn’t want to hear it.”
