Page 16 of Not His Bride

The screen lights up when I power it on. I don’t even look at my inbox. Instead, I open a blank message and CC my entire contact list.

Effective today, I am resigning from Jovi Group. Please direct questions or issues to Debbie, Tammy, or Phillip Jovi, as I will no longer be checking this email.

With that done, I can now stew over last night and Gallagher.

Chapter 7

Gallagher

It’s the morning after my failed wedding, and I’m in bed. Shit, I’m a husband. Not only am I a husband, but I’m already the worst husband I could have ever imagined. My wife is alone. I betrayed her before I even married her, and indirectly humiliated her in front of everyone.

Despite the pounding in my head, I know I must face the day.

First, it starts with my phone, which has been vibrating so often it’s probably left a mark on the wood it sits on.

Between texts, emails, voicemails, and Google alerts, I have forty-seven unread notifications. Of note, I spot Renata, my head of PR. I don’t open any of them. I don’t feel like having strangers tell me I messed up right now, especially not from my own team. The only person I want to talk to is Lilith, but that’s not happening right now. She needs space, and I’m the last person she wants to hear from—deservedly so.

The problem is that I like my wife a lot more than I expected to after knowing her for one day. I liked watching her correct me about Maison Ziterweigen, and how she looked way too pleased with herself when she knew something I didn’t. I liked finding that ridiculous Phantom mask in her purse. I liked the way she argued with me over the chandelier like it was a serious issue.

I keep thinking about what she’d say if she ever saw the Phantom glass in my kitchen. The image is starting to fade, and my housekeeper, Marta, hides it in the back of a cabinet every time she reorganizes because it doesn’t match anything else I own. I always find it and put it back. Lilith would understand that immediately.

She’d understand my cat, Gumby, too. He’s named after the old children’s cartoon. My grandmother was strict about television when I stayed with her as a kid, but for some reason, Gumby was allowed. So I watched the same episodes, over and over, until I got attached to the loveable green guy. Somewhere along the way, that turned into me owning a ten-inch Gumby figure that still sits at my house and then naming my cat after him.

None of that makes it into magazine profiles about Gallagher Cortez. Hotels, acquisitions, net worth—sure. Nobody asks about Gumby or the scuffed Phantom glass I’ve kept for years.

In that bridal suite, Lilith made me want to tell her those things.

I rub both hands over my face.

I didn’t merely lose the merger or embarrass myself in front of three hundred people. I met someone I actually wanted to know. By the time we reached the altar, I wanted the marriage for reasons that had nothing to do with Phillip Jovi. I wanted to see her reaction when she met Gumby and inevitably made fun of his name. I wanted to show her the glass and prove that yes, I am a loser who owns it. I wanted to find out what else she keeps hidden in that purse besides cheap plastic masks.

Instead, she sat at our wedding reception, listening to me call her the wrong sister on a grainy recording.

Smart move, asshole!

I’m still proud of her for what she did afterward. Phillip tried to drag her back to the reception, and Debbie tried to turn the whole thing into another competition, but Lilith told all of us no and walked out. Considering how many years that family has apparently spent teaching her to take whatever they give her, leaving might have been the hardest thing she did all night.

I wanted to go after her, but she’d asked to leave.

Me listening has to continue today. Since I know she wouldn’t want me to call her, all I can do is make sure my people don’t blame her for what happened. I can keep reporters off her as much as possible.

Then maybe, eventually, she’ll let me introduce her to my cat.

I really hope she does.

I finally force myself out of bed. I shower, shave, brush my teeth, and stand under the hot water longer than necessary because it gives me a few more minutes where nobody expects anything from me. Then I put on a white shirt and a dark gray suit. By the time I’m dressed, I’m feeling more confident to face other people.

I give myself another few hours to do absolutely nothing before I pick up my phone. Renata’s last message is time-stamped at 6:49 a.m. Knowing that this is too important for a phone call, I FaceTime her.

Renata answers. Rather than being in the middle of the frame, the camera is set back with multiple faces in view. She’s in her signature navy pantsuit with a legal pad already in hand. Fig from Legal is close behind Renata, as are two junior advisors. They’re all sitting at a conference table.

“We’re already seeing press interest from three major outlets,” Renata starts. “If we move quickly, we can still control the merger narrative. But it has to be now.”

“What are the headlines saying?” Fig asks.

Renata reads from her legal pad. “Public Annulment at Cortez-Jovi Wedding; Merger in Question.”

“Technically, Lilith only announced she wants an annulment,” I interject. “I don’t think anything has happened yet.”