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“Read it, Nash. I’m going to pour two stiff drinks.”
Nash watched his friend head into his house, and when the door banged shut behind him, he looked down at the file in his hand. After a few seconds, he made his way over to one of the large Adirondack chairs on his back deck and opened the folder.
21
Cinderella had nothing on Honey Harrison. Not a damn thing.
Sure, the princess might have had a pumpkin carriage, glass slippers, and a fairy godmother. But Honey had Regan. She glanced over her shoulder and giggled. And Tiny. Who knew a bald, tattooed giant of a man was into fashion? Or that those thick, stubby fingers could sew like a motherfu…
“Oh my God, Wyatt is going to kill me. I have to go.” Regan came up behind her, and their eyes met in the mirror. She kissed Honey on the cheek and grinned. “You look beautiful.” She stood back and winked. “I’ll see you there.” And then she disappeared out the door, a dark beauty in cream and gold.
“Booker isn’t going to know what hit him.” Tiny nodded approvingly and whistled. “Good call on the necklace.”
Dressed in a deep iridescent-blue strapless gown, with her hair pinned into a soft knot at the back of her head, Honey was a vision. The dress was simple, the cut elegant, an empire A-line that fell in soft waves to her feet. The dress was borrowed—a gift from Regan Thorne-Blackwell—as were the elbow-length gloves and the simple pearl beads at her neck. Those had belonged to her mother. The only thing her mom had never pawned for drugs. The only thing Honey had kept after she passed.
She gazed at herself in the mirror, stomach fluttering, emotions all over the place. The color was high in her cheeks, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. God, if Simone could see her now, she’d have the biggest laugh of her life. Honey Harrison on the verge of tears because she was in love.
I’m in love. A small smile crept over her face as she held those three words close like a secret.
I’m in love.
She thought back to earlier that morning. Back to when she’d been tangled up in Nash’s arms. When his mouth had been on her. His hands in her hair. His body inside hers. His heart beating against hers. Something had changed then. Her life had shifted, and she hadn’t seen it coming.
She laughed and caught herself, stopping short as the image in the mirror suddenly blurred. Slowly, her smile faded, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her mother’s voice suddenly inside her head.
“People like us don’t get a happy-ever-after, Honey Bee. Prince Charming sure as hell ain’t coming to this neck of the woods. You remember that, girlie. You take what you can get. All of it. You use them before they use you.”
“Hey, we need to go, or you’re going to be late.”
“Did you try Nash again?” She scooped up her silver clutch and checked her phone with a frown. She’d called Nash several times but had gotten his voice mail.
Tiny checked his cell phone and nodded. “He said he’d meet us there. Says he’s running late.”
“Oh.” Honey tried not to show her disappointment and double-checked her cell phone. Why hadn’t he responded to her messages? Why hadn’t he called her back?
“Let’s go. I don’t want to miss the appetizers. They’re the best part of the evening.” Tiny headed out of her apartment, giving her no choice. She pushed the unease aside, including the whisper of her mother’s voice in her ear, and followed him. She’d never been the kind of girl to get her panties in a knot over something silly like a missed phone call or text message.
But then she’d never been in love before. Ugh. Was this what she had to look forward to the rest of her life? Was she really going to turn into one of those girls?
Don’t be silly. Get your ass in gear.
Twenty minutes later, she and Tiny entered the main hall of the Community Support Center fundraiser. The room had been transformed to look like a royal court of old, and the theme, An Enchanted Mask Ball, was in full force.
She was handed a gilded silver mask, which Tiny insisted on arranging so as not to mess with the messy bun. He didn’t see the irony in that, so she let him have his fun, and all the while, her eyes scanned the room looking for Nash. There were a lot of folks mingling, chatting and drinking, all in fancy dress, but she didn’t see Nash or Hudson or any of the Blackwells. Even Regan, who’d left before her, wasn’t around. She tried Nash’s cell again, but it went straight to voice mail.
Something wasn’t right. She felt it in her bones. As her unease began to build, she paced the room nervously. She’d always been a woman who trusted her instincts, and right now, her instincts were telling her that something was going down. Something big. And she had no way to stop it.
She accepted a glass of champagne from a bubbly server. And then another. By the time she was on to her fourth glass, the appetizers were done and folks were being urged to find their seats. Her name card was on table number one, which was at the front of the room, but the rest of her party, the Blackwells including John and Darlene, were absent. So was Nash.
“Everything all right?” Andrea Lee patted Honey on the shoulder as she headed to her neighboring table.
Nothing was right.
Pasting a smile she didn’t feel on her face, Honey shrugged. “I don’t know where Nash or Hudson or anyone is. They’re really late.” She tried to smile but failed miserably. “I’m being silly.”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly normal explanation. They’ll be along. You’ll see.” One of the servers came up to Andrea, and, after a quick nod, she gave Honey a warm hug. “I have to go. The caterer has a question, which, considering they’re about to start serving the first course, has me a little worried.” She stepped back and winked. “Enjoy the evening, Honey. You look beautiful.”
Feeling more than a little light-headed, Honey sat down at the large table for eight and stared at the empty chairs. Tiny and the rest of the staff from the Coach House were somewhere, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see them. Not surprising considering there were at least two hundred and fifty guests in the room. She pulled her cell out of her clutch and had a quick look. Nothing. No message. No missed call. After a few seconds of debate, she sent him a text message.
