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Mary’s lips pressed together tightly, and she shot Della a look. “Can you give us a minute?”
“That’s what I tried to do.” Della sailed out of the room and headed for the stairs.
“What did I walk in on here?” Mary asked.
Whoa.A wave of guilt hit her so hard she stumbled, stopping midway up to listen. Because she had wanted to kiss this woman’s fiancé. She would have done it, too. She’d been a breath away from his mouth.
“My assistant was helping me with a song I’m having trouble with,” Bex said.
My assistant.
That shouldn’t hurt since it’s what I am.
But it does. I just felt like so much more.
“Can we not pretend you weren’t canoodling with the pinup girl?” Mary said.
Uh, excuse me?Rude.
“First of all, don’t talk about Della like that. She’s been nothing but professional and kind and helpful. Secondly, I’ve been holed up in here all day, and she was thoughtful enough to bring me lunch.”
“Oh, my God, do you hear yourself? She’s kind and thoughtful. She brought you lunch? There is absolutely something going on here.”
“Like I said, this is her second day on the job. And I’ve never cheated on you.” Bex sounded pissed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. The last thing in the world I expected to see was you laughing and talking to a beautiful woman. I guess…since I’ve never seen you on tour, I didn’t really think about your rapport with your assistants.”
“Mary, what the hell is going on? None of this makes sense.”
“I just told you.” There was a plea in her voice. “We’ve waiting forever for a house to come on the market, and it finally did, and it was like a sign.”
“We don’t need to get married to buy a house.”
“Okay, but then, what are we doing? We’ve been together six years, and we’re not really going anywhere. We’re both leading separate lives. And if we buy this house, then we’re moving forward. We’re living our dreams instead of just talking about them.”
“I don’t want to elope in Vegas.”
“Well…then…I don’t know what to tell you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I guess I’m saying…you either come with me to the chapel tonight or…”
“Or what?”
“Or we’re done.”
Della’s heart was breaking. In a tiny chapel with arched windows and dusty flower planters hooked to the end of each pew, she watched an Elvis impersonator chatting with Bex.
Everyone waited for the bride to appear in the doorway.
How could she have read him so wrong?
Am I delusional?
Do I only see what I want?
She’d been one second away from kissing him. Imagine if Mary-Therese had walked in on that?
