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“Noah!” scolded Warren. Always so helpful.
Ryder felt a little sorry for Sabrina, who couldn’t have known what she was getting into. But only a little since she was, after all, marrying Prince Charming. (And anyway, she’d be fine. Because she was, after all, marrying Prince Charming. She’d be golden by association—forever. This would blow over.)
For right now, though, Ryder was mainly working to contain his glee so as to avoid incurring parental wrath and inadvertently taking the heat off poor, squirming Noah.
But when he glanced over at Vic to see if she was sharing any of his amusement, he quickly sobered.
Chapter Ten
Vicky couldn’t breathe. Suddenly the room—an enormous formal dining room with twelve-foot ceilings—was closing in on her. She thought she’d been doing okay, but she had clearly been deluding herself.
Noah was getting married in May? May? As in a few short months from then?
She’d known he’d been serious about Sabrina. Of course she had, even though he’d tried to be sensitive and not rub his new relationship in her face. So honestly, the engagement announcement had been a shock perhaps, but not a surprise.
But she had barely (okay, not at all) adjusted to that new reality, and now he was going to be married before summer?
He might be married before she even managed to arrange an actual date with Davis, she thought ruefully.
And now an engagement party? In a few weeks? There would be press coverage. It would be, after all, a society event. Reporters would be all over her, asking what she thought of it all.
And as Ryder’s “girlfriend,” she was going to have a front-row seat.
Noah was now saying something about having contacted Ivy Steadman to plan the whole thing.
That didn’t even make sense. Ivy was PR, not event planning. And for the last couple of years, the Pink Heart Ball was the only major project she handled outside her position at ZephyrTech. Though she was an incredibly effective organizer. And exactly the sort of kindhearted soul who would help out a friend in need. And she had, in fact, gotten her start in high-end event planning years ago. Her reputation had been impeccable.
Vicky now suddenly remembered a conversation where she’d joked with Noah about what it might take to persuade Ivy to come out of retirement for one special engagement. Back when she thought they’d soon be planning their own wedding.
She suddenly felt as if she might be ill. She could not throw up here, in the middle of this civilized dinner, all over the antique lace tablecloth.
At that moment, she became vaguely aware that Ryder was watching her. For how long, she couldn’t be sure, but by the look on his face, long enough to know she wasn’t doing so well.
“Hey.” He leaned toward her. “Hey, you okay?”
With the others currently involved in an intense discussion over how late was too late to send a “save the date,” Vicky had a split second to make a decision. Ideally, she would compose herself, smile, and show everyone how absolutely fine she was with all this.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Ryder was still watching her, looking genuinely concerned.
“Princess?”
To hell with it. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his chair, dragging him along the hallway until the voices in the dining room had receded into the background. (Mercifully, they seemed so involved in their conversation no one commented on their hasty exit.) She dragged Ryder into the nearest room and shut the door behind them.
They were now squeezed together in a very small powder room. She held a hand to her chest, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm herself.
Ryder regarded her with amusement.
“Come here often?”
She slapped his chest. “Stop.”
And he did. He watched her for a moment.
“Vic?”
“Yes?” Now that they were away from the others, she could feel her racing heart starting to slow a little.
