Page 33 of The Wrong Groom

Alexis is standing by the couch. From the looks of things, she just jumped to her feet. She’s holding a book in one hand and a blanket in the other. For some reason, even though this is her house now too, she looks incredibly guilty.

That doesn’t sit right with me.

“You know, you can relax,” I say, trying to keep my tone light, but the unease clings to the air between us.

“Sorry,” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know when you’d be home⁠—”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” I tell her. My gaze drops to the book in her hand. “What are you reading?”

Quickly, she tucks the book beneath her arm, hiding the cover. “Oh—it’s nothing.”

For a moment, I consider pushing the issue. Eventually, my tact wins out over my curiosity, and I nod, letting the subject drop.

“How was your day?” I ask. I find myself truly wanting to know the answer. It seems like she’s been around the house all day, but I know she works for Vérité. I can’t help but wonder why she isn’t coming home from work at the same time as me.

“Oh. It was fine,” she says nervously. “I spoke to my father this morning, and he told me they didn’t need me to come in today.”

My brows draw together. “What do you mean, they didn’t need you?”

She shrugs. There’s a hint of consternation on her face for a brief instant, then it vanishes. “That happens a lot, actually. I’m technically employed by the company, but they tell me I don’t need to come in all the time.”

It bothers her, even if she doesn’t admit it. I can tell by the way her fingers fidget with the hem of the blanket. And I think I can guess why too. This is her family’s company. Her father is the CEO. I can imagine how I would feel if my own father had dismissed me like that, treated me like an afterthought.

“Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands,” I venture cautiously. I don’t want to drag any ill feelings to the surface if she’s not willing to vent them, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s holding back, burying her frustrations beneath a veneer of calm. “What do you usually do when you’re not working?”

She lets out a breath. “Well, I read a lot,” she admits. “I spend most of my time waiting to get called in, honestly.”

“You should use your time however you want. Pursue something other than your family’s company.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

I shrug, nonchalant. “It’s clear that you’re smart and capable. You don’t have to just wait around for their call. Find a passion project, or something. Something that will make you happy.”

She’s silent for a long moment. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. She seems struck by this idea, as if it’s never occurred to her before now.

“A passion project,” she says quietly, almost to herself. Clearly, she has something in mind. The beginnings of an idea, at least.

I open my mouth to ask her what she would want to do, but before I can, the front door swings open. I hear Peyton’s voice above the patter of the rain. “Daddy! Where are you?”

Chapter 12

Alexis

Gabriel’s daughter runs across the hardwood floor of the foyer. I can hear her rubber boots squeaking, tracking water. Margaret’s voice travels from the door. “Peyton, honey, take off your boots before walking on the wood! You’re going to ruin your dad’s nice floor.”

Gabriel, for his part, doesn’t seem to give a shit about the floor. He chuckles as he watches Peyton dash toward him, shedding droplets from her little raincoat. There’s a warmth on his face that seems reserved for her, and I have to admit, it’s a sight that makes my heart swell.

Gabriel scoops Peyton into his arms, getting his suit soaked in the process. This doesn’t seem to bother him either. He smiles and bounces his daughter. “Hey, kiddo. Where were you guys?”

“Margaret took me to the park!” Peyton exclaims. “And then it started raining, and I jumped in all of the puddles!”

“You sure did, didn’t you?” he says fondly.

I watch the exchange, a little smile creeping onto my face. Gabriel is always so attentive with Peyton, his warmth and affection evident in every word and gesture. He absolutely adores that little girl, and it’s plain to see.

She’s always going to have that, I think to myself. A father who loves her. Who would do anything for her.

Suddenly, a wave of longing washes over me, mingling with the warmth of the moment. I feel an ache deep in my chest.