Page 82 of Resisting You
"Noah," she said quietly, "let’s take a walk.”
"I'm not going anywhere until she does," Noah replied, not taking his eyes off Morgan.
"Please," Kristen insisted, her grip on his shoulder tightening. "You can’t make a scene. Not here. And kicking Morgan out will only add fuel to the rumors already swirling around about you. About both of you,” she added, her eyes cutting over to me.
"Oh, Kristen,” Morgan cooed, giving us all a saccharine smile. “It would make forsuchjuicy headlines, though: 'Actor Noah Blue assaults ex at wedding rehearsal.' Can you imagine?"
My skin prickled with cold anger. "Is that what you want?” I asked her. “Headlines?"
Morgan's eyes narrowed slightly, the only crack in her perfect façade. "What I want," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is for people to see the truth. About you. About him. About everything."
I looked at Noah, pleading with my eyes.Please don’t let her stay. But Noah wasn’t exactly a mindreader and before I could speak up, he gave a curt nod to Kristen. Looking at me, his eyes softened for a moment. "She’s not wrong,” he said with a resigned sigh. His face was composed now, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes.
"Fine,” I snapped, turning to look at Morgan. “You can stay."
Noah added, "But if you disruptanything, if you so much as look at Rosa wrong, you're out.”
Morgan's smile was triumphant. "I wouldn'tdreamof disrupting your special day. I'll just sit here quietly and observe."
Noah's jaw tightened again. His eyes locked with Morgan's, and something passed between them—a silent promise that this wasn't over, that he wouldn't forget this intrusion.
"Come on," he said to me, his hand finding the small of my back. "Let's finish the rehearsal."
As we walked back to the altar, I still felt the weight of Morgan's gaze on my back. Though Noah's hand was warm and solid against my spine, it couldn't dispel the chill that had settled into my bones—the certainty that this was only the beginning of whatever Morgan had planned.
The rehearsal dinnerwas held at Grieco's, a restaurant with walls the color of aged parchment and lighting dim enough to flatter even the most unforgiving complexions. Crystal glasses caught and scattered the light from overhead chandeliers, turning water into diamonds, wine into liquid rubies. Everything gleamed with perfection—the silver, the china, the faces of our wedding party. Everything except my damn smile, which felt stretched across my face like a rubber band ready to snap.
We had made it through the rest of the rehearsal without incident, but the dinner felt like another gauntlet to run. Morgan had positioned herself at a table with some of their costars—people who didn't know better, who smiled and laughed with her as if she belonged. As if she hadn't inserted herself into this celebration like a splinter under the skin.
"You're not eating," Noah murmured, his lips close to my ear. His hand rested on the back of my chair, a warm, steady presence that had been there all evening, as if he were physically tethering me to the ground.
I looked down at my plate, where the salmon was growing cold, pushed around but barely touched. "I guess I'm not hungry."
"We could leave early," he suggested, his thumb finding my shoulder and moving in small, comforting circles over my skin. "No one would blame us."
But they would. They would wonder. And Morgan would win if she forced us out of our own rehearsal dinner early.
"No," I said, forcing another forkful past my lips. It tasted like nothing. I could have been eating dang sawdust for all Iknew. "We should stay. This isournight. I’m not going to be forced out by her."
Noah's smile was small but fierce with pride. "That's my girl."
For the rest of the night, we went through the motions—accepting congratulations, thanking everyone for their participation when it was so last minute, laughing at the appropriate moments during Noah’s mom’s speech. All the while, I was acutely aware of Morgan's eyes on us, tracking our movements from across the room like a predator noting the patterns of prey.
"Noah!" Steve called, “come here! Cam and I have a question for ya!”
With a groan, Noah hesitated. “Do I have to?”
“They’re your brothers, of course you have to.” After he groaned, I snickered and gave him a little push. He’d been by my side, doting since the moment Morgan showed her face. He deserved to have a little guy time with his brothers. “Go on. They probably want to do that brother shot they’ve been talking about all day.”
Noah searched my face for a moment, then nodded. "I'll be right back," he promised, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before crossing to where his brothers had gathered.
"Have you seen his temper yet??" I didn't need to turn to know who had slid into the empty seat beside me. Morgan's perfume—something expensive and floral—announced her before her words did. "It’s intense. He’s so quick to react. Quick to anger. Quick to fall in love. So...passionate." Pausing, she leaned in, adding, “But that’s also what makes himsogood in bed, huh?”
I swallowed, my throat feeling sandy and dry. "What are you doing here, Morgan?"
"I told you. Congratulating the bride." Morgan smoothed her dress over her thighs. "Though I'm surprised the wedding is even stillon, given everything."
"There is no 'everything,'" I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Whatever you think you're doing, it won't work. Besides, whether or not there’s a party tomorrow, we’re already married. You’re too late.”
