Page 116 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“Leave them be,” Jackson says. “They’ll work it out on their own.”

I watch Marlow chat with Cammie’s grandmother before she turns, looking a little lost. The most noticeable thing is that she appears to be avoiding us.

And Rad took a call and disappeared when I was helping Cammie touch up her makeup. Fortunately, she seems none the wiser. Although Cade was a witness, he hasn’t said a word. I agree with his stance. This is their special day, so I’m kind of surprised that Rad and Marlow would put on such a display.

Both head in separate directions, but I decide to start with Rad to figure out what’s going on. One moment, I see him with his mom. The next, he’s heading into the house. Both times, he looks upset. I’m thinking he might need some time to cool off, so I head to the bar for a glass of champagne.

Jackson has already found his way and is propped up against the bar when I arrive. “What can I get you, Tealey?”

“A glass of champagne, please.” When he hands it to me, I say, “Thank you.” I leave the space between us open for conversation. “Soooo . . .”

“Yeah,” he replies, tensing his jaw. “Whatever it is, it’s bad.”

“You think?”

He nods.

“And you don’t know what happened?”

This time, he shakes his head. Pushing off the bar, he says, “I think I’ll go look for Marlow. She might need a friend.”

“Maybe I should go then.”

“Marlow and I are friends, Tealey.” Offense threads through his tone. “Just like you and Rad.”

Nothing like Rad and me, but I’m not going to argue with him. I agreed to this vow of silence on the topic of us, and I’ll stick with it.

I set my glass back down, having no interest in alcohol right now. As the newlyweds start ticking through their list of traditional items on the reception agenda, I go in search of Rad again. Cutting across the lawn, I’m just at the edge of the party when I hear, “Bonjour, mademoiselle.”

The accent is thick, matching his dark hair. His caramel eyes are set on me like we’ve met before. We haven’t, but I know who he is. “You’re even prettier than Marlow described.”

“Thank you. You must be Jean-Luc.” When he leans in to kiss my cheek, I pull back, his gesture too forward for me. Or maybe I’m just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the greeting.Either way, I say, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tealey.” I know nothing of this man other than he’s an art collector. Something tells me he has interests in collecting other things, such as notches on his belt. Just a gut instinct, but one that’s served me well.

Of course, I had judged Rad all wrong, so maybe my instincts aren’t as reliable as I once believed.

“Yes, Marlow spoke highly of you.” He holds his glass forward. “You don’t have a drink? Shall we make our way to the bar?”

“No. I’m fine.” Antsy to get to Rad, I look toward the house one more time.

“Champagne is for celebrations. Weddings. Engagements. New friends. We have all the makings of a beautiful evening.”

“The wedding was so beautiful.” I was teary-eyed when Cammie tried on her dress the first time, cried when I saw her today, and bawled like a baby while I listened to her and Cade exchange their vows.

He sips his champagne while I figure out how to ditch him and get back to searching for my boyfriend. “I should apologize for Marlow. I did not agree to?—”

“Her engagement, I heard, was quite the surprise today.” He sips, his eyes fixed on me.

Marlow? Engaged?He must be mistaken. There’s no way. She’s not even dating anyone. I try to riddle through what he said, thinking I heard him wrong in the first place. “Marlow’s not engaged.”

“Oui, she is indeed. The fiancé was ill-prepared, popping the question because her family is here. Americans have lost the art of romance. No honest man would make a mockery of love. Love requires intimacy, not big displays.” His flippant comment warrants a comeback, but I’m still stuck on the “popping thequestion because her family is here” part. The only person with Marlow and her family was Rad.

My hands fist at my side, and I take a deep and staggering breath to control my head from exploding. “Did you see the man,her fiancé,” I grit, “propose, or is it a rumor?”

“The actress, Lorie Marché, was telling a small group of us at the wedding. Her father is going to give a toast.”

“A toast?” Rad is about to have his engagement announced instead of his relationship with me going public. A punch to the gut has me coddling my midsection just as panic sets in.

He must be wrong. Others men are dressed in tuxes. It must be a mix-up.Please be anyone but Rad.

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