Connie shrugged, an irritated pout back on her pretty face as she grabbed her cousin’s hand. “Let’s go freshen up, Beth.”
“Oh, I…” Beth looked up at Preston, her eyes soft and apologetic.
“It’s okay,” he said, gently extracting her arm from his and watching as Connie pulled her away.
“Well thanks, Wes,” said Christopher, taking a few steps over to the bar and ordering a double scotch. “Connie’s all pissed off now, which means I’m probably not getting any tonight. Thanks. Really.”
“You’re not missing out on anything special,” said Weston under his breath, and Fitz turned back to the Winslows and quickly changed the subject. “So! Have I been hearing rumors about you running for City Controller, Chris?”
Christopher nodded. “Though Connie thinks I should aim higher.”
“Higher than the most important elected position in the whole city?” asked Weston acidly. “Stop listening to her!”
Preston suppressed a chuckle as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Palming it, he looked down at a new message from Brooks: I need to talk to you!
Looking over the heads of his mother’s guests to the entrance where Brooks stood with Jess and Alex, he saw his brother shaking hands with two women—a blonde and a brunette—both of whom had their backs to Preston. From the rear, they both looked incredibly intriguing—one in a very, very short, tight black cocktail dress, and the other in a thigh-length, very tight, blue and white dress, swirled with flowers. He couldn’t see their faces, obviously, but there was still lots to admire from this vantage point.
His phone buzzed again, and he glanced down to see the single word: Now!
Was this another plot of Jessica’s to set him up with yet another eligible Philadelphia bachelorette? Or two? And had she somehow roped Brooks into helping her?
What’s the rush? he typed, looking up again to see that the two women were now shaking hands with the Englishes. Preston watched as Eleanora English’s face broke out into a surprised smile, before shaking the hand of the blonde woman and leaning forward to engage her in animated conversation.
Suddenly the brunette turned around, and Preston realized it was Jax Rousseau, his next door neighbor from adjacent Chateau Nouvelle. He had recently heard that Jax had joined a competing firm in entertainment law, though he hadn’t had a chance to congratulate her yet…or tease her a little bit about stealing her clients.
“I’ll be back,” he said to Chris, putting his phone back in his pocket and making his way across the ballroom to say hello to Jax. As long as he was over there, he could find out what was going on with Brooks, too.
As he moved closer and closer, he caught Jax’s eye, and she grinned at him, waving hello. But then suddenly, her companion turned around and Preston froze in his tracks as all the air was sucked out of Westerly’s ballroom. He blinked twice, wondering for just a moment if he was hallucinating. He wasn’t.
The hot blonde in the tight dress was Elise Klassan.
His wife had just walked into Westerly.
***
“Remember those gorgeous brothers I mentioned?” asked Jax, nudging Elise in the hip as she turned away from Eleanora English. “Brace yourself. Here comes one now.”
And that was how Elise Klassan came face-to-face with her husband, on the evening of their second anniversary, after two miserable years apart.
He was still stunningly handsome, his hair as thick and dark as she remembered, with that rogue curl still kissing his forehead. Tall and broad, he looked like heaven in a suit, and her fingers twitched, remembering how it felt to push his suit jacket down his muscular arms and listen to it pool on the floor. Gathering her courage, she raised her gaze to his face, locking her blue eyes on his green.
“Pres,” she whispered softly, breathlessly, working to keep her face from crumpling or launching herself into his arms.
He stared back at her in shock, unspeaking, unmoving, his face stony and unwelcoming.
“Wait a second! Do you two know each other?” asked Jax.
“We’ve met,” said Preston.
Elise scanned his face—his beautiful face—that was so cold and distant.
“In New York,” she added.
“Oh! When you were on Broadway?” asked Jax, wrangling two champagne flutes off a passing tray and handing one to Elise.
Preston’s eyes widened, then narrowed with disapproval, as she touched the glass to her lips and let the bubbles tumble down her throat. In the movie I Hate You, Tijuana, Elise’s character had had an insatiable love of Champagne, and although Elise had never drunk more than a few sips, she had to admit, it was delicious.
“Off—Off Broadway,” said Preston derisively.
Elise lowered the glass, her cheeks flushing as she remembered the humiliation of playing Matilda to half-full houses…and how Preston had come to see her not once, but twice.