Page 19 of The Mood Board

“Help us with what?” I asked quietly. “We already have everything set.”

We didn’t, but that was beside the point—I neither needed nor wanted her help.

But Liam wasn’t listening. Instead, he was focused on Janelle and the estate’s event coordinator. The woman, who I had not seen smile once during our meetings, had lit up when she saw the redhead. Now, the two were exchanging greeting kisses, one on each cheek.

“It’s been ages, Janelle. You haven’t been to one of Mark’s parties in too long,” the event coordinator cooed.

“Mark?” I murmured to Liam.

“Mark Masterson. He’s the estate’s owner, but he usually only uses it for parties,” Liam replied.

“As you do,” I muttered, wondering if this Mark had been my fiancé’s connection.

“I haven’t even been in the country.” Janelle waved away the unvoiced thought that she was somehow snubbing the man who owned this place. “And I couldn’t believe it when Liam told me he and his fiancée were having their wedding here.”

Liam and his fiancée. I didn’t even rate a name, even though I’d had her over to our house and cooked dinner for her.

There it was again—the jealousy and lack of self-confidence rearing its ugly head, and only minutes after the subject of my ire had reappeared.

But why did she have to come today, of all days? So what if she knew the owner?

“It’s a good thing he told me, too, because I know all about this place.” Janelle’s eyes glittered in a way that made me think there was a reason she knew all about it, and it was too private for me to know. “I can show you everything you’ll want to have at your wedding.”

“They’ve already chosen—” the event coordinator began.

“Then they can choose again,” Janelle cut her off. “Come on, you know you hide the best Mark has to offer from paying guests.”

From the chagrined twist of the event coordinator’s mouth, Janelle spoke the truth, and the woman well knew it.

Janelle winked and waved for us to follow her. “You’re going to love what I have to show you.”

Liam and I followed the redhead around as she pointed out spots we might choose to have photos and say our toasts. She even suggested spots where our guests could throw rice and where I could throw my bouquet, neither of which we planned to do.

“Have you bought your dress yet, Bailey?” Janelle asked casually as she dragged us through yet another indoor ballroom we wouldn’t use. The event coordinator hadn’t even shown it to us on our initial tour because we wanted nearly everything to be outside.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a few different ones,” I replied.

“You’re not having it designed specifically for you?” Janelle raised one eyebrow as she glanced back over her shoulder at us. “Liam, you want her to marry you, and you’re not buying her a bespoke wedding dress?”

“I’m paying for the dress myself,” I replied before Liam could, unable to keep the hint of annoyance out of my tone.

Janelle didn’t notice it or, at least, did not indicate if she had. Instead, she stared at me as though that was the oddest thing she had ever heard. “I’m sure it will be just beautiful,” she finally said, turning back around.

Despite her words, her message was loud and clear, and, despite myself, I felt my ears begin to burn.

Buying my dress had been important to me—Liam was paying for the rest of the wedding and the honeymoon, sparing no expense. Yes, he made the money to do it, but if we were going to start our life together on equal footing, then I was going to pay for something.

And it wasn’t like the dresses were cheap, either. A single one could cost as much as some people spent on their entire wedding.

But doubt began to creep in—yes, the dresses were lovely, but would they match our surroundings? The thought that I should have had a dress made had never even occurred to me. Or Liam, for that matter. He might have been a billionaire now, but he hadn’t grown up with money. Instead, he had grown up with multiple siblings and a family budget that was tight more often than not, especially after his mom had gotten sick and the medical bills had started pouring in.

His upbringing was why he still lived in the Victorian house where he had grown up. He had renovated it, of course, but he hadn’t bought a mansion or a second home. Not for himself, anyway.

But was Janelle’s judgment correct? Was I going to fall flat on my own wedding day, outshone by the venue and everyone else?

“So how do you know Mr. Masterson?” I asked, hoping that if Janelle started talking about herself, she would stop inserting herself into our wedding and making me question everything I had already planned.

“Mark?” Janelle asked as we came out onto another terrace, this one overlooking the gardens. “We’ve known each other for ages. I worked for him at the beginning of my career, and things developed from there.”