Wrong Groom

My father tossed a stack of newspapers across the table at me, a frown set on his face. Every one of them carried stories about me with different women. I sank back in my chair with a smirk. "Declan, this is not how a Lockwood behaves," my father said to me, sternly. I laughed. "I'm only having a little fun, Dad," I said. "Well, it stops today, Declan. Today, you get engaged." When my father said he had a proposal for me, I assumed it was the business kind. We had been working together ever since I bought a share in his company and began running it. When he said proposal, I never thought he meant a real marriage proposal. "Sloane Mercer is a desirable woman," he said, sliding one headshot after another of the pageant Queen toward me. Her hair was always perfectly styled, her clothes seemed taken straight from the runway, while her blue eyes carried almost no warmth, even when her mouth was curved into a smile. We had been to enough events together for me to know Sloane fairly well, and to know we didn't suit each other at all. "I know, Dad," I said, giving an exaggerated eye roll before I handed the headshots back. "This engagement, this marriage works for both our companies and our families," he said, leaning over his desk. "What's wrong with how the company is doing?" I asked, irritated at being pushed into this match. "Would you rather marry a well known and widely loved woman who comes with her own wealth, or end up with a gold-digger?" my father asked, slamming his hand on the desk. I didn't flinch. He had done that often enough throughout my life that I knew he only wanted my attention. I lifted my gaze to him. "Sloane's enough of a gold-digger even with her money, Dad," I told him. He shot me a disapproving look. "Declan," my father sighed, "the family is here, just outside that door." He gestured toward the study door. "Go out there, smile, and at least act happy about this engagement. We'll make it public before long." I started to protest, but he raised a hand to stop me. "I've had enough of this discussion, Declan. We've gone through this already. I know what serves both the company and the family," he said wearily. I rose from my chair, fastening my suit jacket. I gave him a brief nod and headed out, not wanting to face Sloane or my family when I was this angry, but knowing I had to anyway. The second I reached the hall, Sloane rose from her chair, her bored expression sharpening into anger as she marched up to me. "Why did you leave me here alone for so long?" she asked, plainly annoyed. "My father and I had business to discuss," I said with a shrug. She huffed. Then she shoved her empty champagne glass into my hand and straightened my tie, even though I was certain it already looked immaculate. Nothing was ever really good enough for Sloane. "When we're engaged and then married, Declan," she warned, "you will need to make sure our appearances stay perfect." She stalked away to fetch another drink, and I exhaled at the thought of the future tied to her. By that time I got to Nolan's apartment, it was already six-thirty. I had said I'd be there around five-thirty, six at the latest, but wedding planning always seemed to swallow time whole. I opened his apartment door and the noise of the latest football game on TV met me. Nolan yelled something at the screen. He lounged on the couch with a beer in his hand, looking a little frustrated. "Hey," I said quietly. He barely seemed to register that I was there. "Oh, hey, Isla," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. I lingered at the edge of the living room, watching him. "Where are we supposed to be eating?" "The game's on, so I ordered pizza," he said, still not looking my way. "I assumed you'd show up late anyway, so I didn't think you'd care." My heart sank. "You said you wanted to go out for dinner. For days you've been insisting you wanted an evening alone with me," I said. "We're still having dinner," he muttered and took a swig of beer. "Pizza," I repeated. "Here on your couch. This isn't the date we'd planned." He let out a sigh and turned toward me. "Look, I had a rough day too, okay?" he said. "And the game is on, and it's so good, so let's just stay here, eat pizza, and watch it, okay?" I bit at my lower lip and forced a smile. After slipping off my shoes, I went over and sat beside him. He wrapped an arm around me, and I tucked myself into him. "Sorry I got here late," I told him quietly. He shrugged. "It's fine." "How was your day?" I asked quietly. He shook his head. "Wait, not right now. This game might run into overtime," he said, cutting me off. I closed my eyes and sighed, wondering whether we would have gone out if I'd gotten off work at the right time. Then I got up from the couch to pour myself a drink. "Hey, can you grab me a beer?" Nolan asked, shaking his empty bottle. "Sure," I said under my breath. "Thanks, Tess," he said, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Love you."