Page 92 of The Wrong Groom

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. I can practically hear him struggling for a response, but I’m not going to wait for it to come.

“You don’t know him,” I continue, my words spilling out faster now. “You don’t know anything about him—or me. So stop pretending like you have some right to comment on my life.”

“I wasn’t commenting,” he says, disbelief in his tone. “I’m just saying you could’ve had more. You don’t have to settle⁠—”

“Enough!” The word bursts out of me, loud enough that a few people in the coffee shop glance over. My cheeks burn, and I lower my voice to hiss at him, “Thanks for your honesty, but I’m happy with how things turned out.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No. I’m just not interested in you.”

Before he can respond, I hang up the phone. My heart is racing, the blood pounding in my ears so loud it drowns out the quiet hum of the coffee shop around me. I stare at the phone in my hand for a moment, half expecting it to light up with another call from him, but it remains dormant.

Did that just happen? Did I just say that?

He was so brazen, coming on to a married woman like that. I take a deep breath, shakily sipping my tea. The anger that drove me to snap at him is gone, replaced by an unsettled feeling in my gut.

I don’t want to be so upset by that call, but I can’t help it. I’m rattled. There was something about his tone, about the way he spoke like he had some kind of right to weigh in on my life. The way he talked about Gabriel and Peyton as if they were obstacles rather than people.

You didn’t say anything wrong. You had every right to shut him down. I repeat the mantra in my head, trying to steady myself. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Since I was a child, I’ve struggled with confrontation. I’ve spent years trying to please people, and it’s taught me to avoid conflict, ingrained in me an instinct to keep the peace. Now, in the aftermath of my own anger, I can’t help the rush of shame.

But Travis cornered me. He left me no choice. And, okay, I’ll admit it, he pissed me off with his comment about Gabriel.

I glance down at the sketchbook still open on the table. The jacket design I’ve been working on now looks half-formed, the lines hesitant and incomplete. I felt so good about it before Travis called. Now, I’m shaken, my rhythm interrupted.

I need to see Gabriel.

When I can’t stop second-guessing myself, when I feel like everything I do is wrong, he’s the person I want to talk to. He steadies me. Calms me. Helps me think. Just being near him is enough to quiet the noise in my head.

I gather my things, sliding my sketchbook into my bag and grabbing the last bite of my lemon cake. My tea is nearly empty, but I take it anyway. It’s another thing to hold on to.

I call a car to take me downtown to the Thorne Enterprises building. The ride feels both too long and not long enough. I don’t know what to say to him, only that I need to see him. I try to put together an explanation in my head for my visit as the car rolls down palm-lined streets, but I’ve got nothing.

He might be angry. What if he’s angry? Oh, god, I shouldn’t have answered that call. I should’ve checked…

The doorman at Thorne Enterprises greets me with a polite nod as I step out of the car. I head straight up to the top floor, where the executives’ offices are located.

The elevator is packed when I step inside, but slowly, the throng of people thins out as it stops at other floors. I hide my face from the curious stares of Thorne Enterprises employees. I’m not the best at hiding how I’m feeling, and the last thing I want is to stir up gossip. I’m sure everyone who works here knows who I am by now, even if I haven’t been around the office much.

When the doors slide open, I make a beeline for Gabriel’s office. His secretary looks up as I approach, her eyes narrowing when she sees it’s me.

She starts to lift a hand, to open her mouth, but I brush past her without pausing. I don’t have the patience for her to hold me up like she always does.

I push Gabriel’s door open.

He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at me in surprise. In front of him, occupying the two chairs across from the desk, are a pair of men in tailored suits. They stop talking when I walk in, eyes darting between me and Gabriel.

Shit. He’s in a meeting. I didn’t even pause to check with his secretary. I’d assumed she would shoo me away regardless.

“Alexis,” Gabriel says, recovering from his surprise. He clears his throat.

Heat surges through my cheeks. I feel foolish.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Thorne,” says Gabriel’s secretary from behind me. She sounds smug. “I tried to stop her.”

I swallow hard, taking a tiny step back, as if I could somehow undo the intrusion. “I… I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just⁠—”