The (Not So) Perfect Day: Falling in Friar Hollow #1 Page 2

  Griff’s smile turned to a smirk. “And here I thought it was the groom you couldn’t do without at a wedding.”

  Angela smacked his arm as Ellie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she muttered. But she could feel heat creeping into her cheeks at his reminder.

  He had a point, after all. It was Marcus she should be focused on. He was here and he could help her make decisions. This was just as much his wedding as hers. She didn’t need Ian’s support if she had Marcus at her side.

  Angela straightened beside her. “He’s here!”

  Ellie’s heart leapt into her throat as she spun around, already smiling with excitement. It would be so like Ian to come back unannounced to surprise her. “Ian? Where?”

  “Um, no, not Ian,” Angela sounded confused as she placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her toward a table in the opposite corner of the restaurant where a tall man with short, light-brown hair was pulling out a seat for himself as he talked on his cellphone.

  “Marcus is here,” Angela clarified, as they all turned to stare at Ellie’s fiancé, who had yet to notice them.

  “Oh. Right.” Ellie smiled over at Angela and Griff before setting off to greet him. “Perfect.”

  Chapter Two

  Angela stood beside Griff as she watched Ellie head over toward her fiancé. The moment Marcus spotted her, his eyes lit up with pleasure and he came to stand, quickly getting off the phone.

  “Perfect.” Griff repeated Ellie’s parting comment under his breath as he too watched the little reunion.

  Was it her imagination or was he being sarcastic? She shot him a sidelong look. Oh, who was she kidding? When was Griffin anything other than sarcastic.

  And smug.

  And conceited.

  He turned to face her and she was struck anew by how handsome he was. It wasn’t a new realization, just another reminder; his overall good looks were impossible to miss. Tall and lean, he towered over her now, his black hair perfectly groomed, and his dark eyes boring into hers. Add a chiseled jawline and the sort of features typically found on a movie star, and there was no denying that Griffin was a total hottie. If you liked the whole slick, yuppy look, which Angela most definitely did not. Nope. Give her a laidback guy sporting jeans, a tee, and hands covered in grease any day of the week. A guy who worked with his hands. Someone who was modest and self-deprecating, and maybe even—

  “You’re not buying this, are you?” It was Griff’s look of derision that snapped Angela out of her daydreams about her perfect man.

  “What do you mean?”

  He gave a pointed look in the direction of Ellie and Marcus.

  Angela stiffened, every defensive friend bone in her body desperate to argue with him. But she couldn’t. Because she had a sneaking suspicion she knew what he meant by that comment and she wasn’t altogether sure she could honestly say he was wrong.

  “You don’t think they’re a good match?” she asked instead.

  His brows arched ever so slightly and his eyes widened. “Do you?”

  She bit her lip. Touché.

  His dark eyes were just a little too intense—they were always too intense, it was one of Griff’s many attributes that rubbed her the wrong way. He was always looking at her like she was a lab experiment under his microscope. Like he could see right past her smile and read her mind, and her heart, and her soul.

  Ridiculous. She shook off the silly notion even as she tried to figure out a diplomatic answer. Did she think Marcus was the one for Ellie? No. But she didn’t have anything specific against Marcus, per se, and definitely no good reason to object to this marriage. He just…wasn’t Ian. At some point throughout their long friendship, Angela had started to assume that one day Ian and Ellie would see that they were in love and make it official.

  But more than a decade had passed since she’d met the two, and they were no closer to realizing how perfect they were together now than when she’d first met them as sophomores in high school.

  Griff was waiting for a response. Like a dog with a bone, Griff would never give up unless she gave him an answer. That’s how he always was, he never let anyone get away with any sort of diversion or evasion. She supposed that was what made him such a good lawyer, but it was incredibly annoying in a friend.

  She let out a huff of annoyance at his unceasing stare. “Marcus is a perfectly nice guy.”

  He gave a little snort of amusement. “You didn’t answer the question.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Just because he’s not Ian—”

  “I don’t trust the guy,” he interrupted.

  She blinked at him. “Ian?”

  He looked at her like she was nuts. “Marcus.”

  Of course he hadn’t meant Ian, but Angela had felt the need to buy some time. Why? Because his remark about Marcus had touched on a nagging sensation she hadn’t quite been able to name. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to because she so desperately wished to be happy for her best friend.

  It wasn’t every day one got engaged, and Ellie had seemed so happy about it.

  Angela turned back to watch her friend now as she chatted with her fiancé, a smile plastered on her face. Was it Angela’s imagination or was the smile a little…forced?

  “Come on,” Griff needled. “Don’t tell me you don’t get a strange vibe from that guy.”

  She shrugged, unwilling to confirm or deny. To agree felt like a betrayal to Ellie. But to deny it… Well, that felt like a lie. Instead, she tried to rationalize. “Maybe you and I are just so used to seeing her with Ian—”

  “Seeing her genuinely happy, you mean.”

  She shot him a glare. “I didn’t say that.”

  He scoffed again, his smile as smug as ever. “How much do you want to bet they end up in my office before the honeymoon is over?”

  She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

  “You afraid of losing?”

  This was a game he liked to play, but she wouldn’t be drawn into it, not when it was her best friend’s happiness at stake. Griff seemed to find it amusing that he and Angela bookended many marriages in these parts. She provided the wedding cakes for the happy day, and he delivered the divorce papers if it came to that.

  She was the before, and he was the after. As an unapologetic romantic, she always hoped for the best with each new couple she met. Griff, on the other hand… Every time she mentioned a new client, he liked to lay down the odds, trying to draw her into a bet on whether or not they would last.

  It was cynical and depressing, not unlike Griff himself. She hated when he pulled this nonsense on total strangers, but there was no way she was going to allow him to bring his wedding doom and gloom anywhere near Ellie’s nuptials. She pressed her lips together and took a deep calming breath before turning on him with her fiercest scowl. “It’s bad enough that you bet on the misery of perfectly nice strangers, but to wish that sort of misfortune on one of your closest friends—”

  “Whoa. Easy, tiger.” Griff raised his hands in defense but his smirk had turned into a grin of amusement, and when he smiled like that…

  She swallowed and looked away, hating the flush of heat that she could feel creeping into her cheeks.

  “I’d never really bet on Ellie’s unhappiness,” he said.

  Her gaze snapped back to meet his as surprise nearly knocked her sideways. He’d sounded so…sincere. Genuine, even. Not even a hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice.

  Huh. That was a first.

  “You have no problem betting on other people’s unhappiness,” she pointed out.

  He shrugged. It wasn’t like he could deny it. One of their very first conversations when he’d moved to town had been him trying to get her to bet on the likelihood of one of her wedding cake client’s chance of lasting.

  She’d been horrified. He’d laughed. It had been the start of a very odd friendship, for lack of a better term. Their relationship could have been more accurately described as two opposites who were forced to spend time together because of mutual friends, but friendship was easier to say.

  “Ellie isn’t other people,” he said.

  Angela eyed him warily, still a little suspicious about his uncharacteristic sincerity. Her look made him smirk. Now there was the Griff she knew so well. Crossing her arms, she met his smirk with a glare.

  He shook his head. “I’m not fighting with you, Angie. We’re on the same side on this one.”

  She sighed as she followed his gaze when he turned to look at their friend. He was right. While they might have had their differences, they were united in their love for Ellie and Ian.

  “I just hope Ian comes home before it’s too late,” Griff said.

  Angela bit her lip. She’d been praying for the very same thing. “He will,” she said with more optimism than she truly felt. “You said it yourself.”

  “I did,” he agreed, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice.

  She gave him a questioning look. “You don’t think he’ll come back for the wedding?”

  He met her gaze but didn’t answer.

  Unexpected laughter bubbled up in her at the memory of Griff’s chivalrous offer. “You’d better hope Ian makes it back. If not, you’ll be walking Ellie down the aisle.”

  He gave an exaggerated grimace that made her laugh even harder. Griff had never pretended to like weddings, or the concept of marriage, in general. Maybe his cynicism when it came to wedded bliss was an unavoidable side effect of his job, just like being a sappy romantic sort of went hand in hand with baking wedding cakes.

  The fact that he’d offered to willingly take part in Ellie’s wedding, even if it had been mostly a joke, had shocked Angela. If she were being honest, his offer had made her soften toward him just the tiniest bit. She shifted uncomfortably. “It was…nice of you to offer.”

  The words were hard to get out and judging by the flicker of amusement in his eyes, he knew it. He shrugged. “Probably won’t have to go through with it, so it was nothing.”

  She let out a little sigh of relief at the roundabout reassurance. “So you do think that Ian will be back in time.”

  He shot her a sidelong look. “Either he’s back in time or the wedding is called off because Ellie has come to her senses.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m off the hook.”

  Angela’s mouth dropped open at his casual mention of a possible cancelation, but she decided to ignore it. She couldn’t say she’d be too terribly sad to see this wedding called off, but only if it were Ellie’s decision.

  “Ellie’s right,” she said. “It is weird that Ian hasn’t gotten any of her messages. I know he goes offline for periods of time, but this one feels like a really long stretch.”

  He gave her a funny look, almost like he was debating what to say. Finally, he looked over at Ellie and shoved his hands in his pockets. “There is one other explanation for his silence.”

  Angela arched her brows in question.

  “It’s possible he got the invite and hasn’t replied because he doesn’t know how.” Griff cast her another sidelong look, gauging her reaction. “Maybe realizing he might lose Ellie to another man has finally brought him to his senses.”

  She studied his profile for a moment, unsure of how to respond. For all their bickering about love and relationships, neither of them had ever broached this particular topic. They’d studiously avoided commenting on their best friends’ close relationship as though by some unspoken agreement. Now Griff was waiting for her to reply. Probably waiting for her to deny it out of loyalty to Ellie and her new engagement. But there was no way she could argue against his theory on Ian and his lengthy silence—not when she’d been thinking the very same thing.

  Maybe, just maybe, their favorite globe-trotting friend had finally seen what had always been right in front of his face. She glanced back over to Ellie, her equally obtuse bestie, and sighed. “If so, it’s about time.”

  Chapter Three

  Two weeks until wedding day…

  Ian Ferris sat on the edge of his bed in the Bangkok hotel room, the invite in his hand worse for the wear after being jammed in his front shirt pocket for the past week.

  He’d received the invite, along with a million messages from Ellie exactly one week ago when he’d had a layover in Bangkok. Work had forwarded his mail on to him, like they always did, and he’d had access to the Internet and his cell.

  He should have replied. He should have said…something. But he hadn’t known what to say. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say to the woman to whom he told everything.

  He’d figured after a week off the grid for work and he’d have figured it out.

  But now, here he was, back at the same hotel and he still had no idea what to say.

  Ellie Thatcher was getting married.

  Married. She was engaged. Betrothed. His best friend would soon become a Mrs.

  Nope. It still didn’t compute. One week of nonstop work and roughing it in the mountains had done nothing for him. He still eyed the now-tattered invitation with the same sick feeling in his stomach, the same overwhelming sense of dread.

  With his thumb, he traced the swirling curlycue writing that seemed way too over-the-top for Ellie. She’d always been a simple-yet-chic kind of woman.

  But then again, what did he know? She’d also always been a single kind of woman.

  If looks could kill, the invitation would have been a goner by now, bursting into flames from the sheer intensity of his glare. Particularly one name, which didn’t alter no matter how long he stared at it. Marcus Finlay.

  Who on earth was Marcus Finlay?

  Ian had been born and raised in Friar Hollow, and he’d been living there—sort of—ever since he’d graduated from college. Sure, he might’ve been abroad more often than he was actually living in his house, but he was still a member of the community. Everyone knew Ian, and Ian knew everyone in their little town.

  Everyone but Marcus Finlay. He’d never even heard the name before it showed up on his invite and in Ellie’s countless messages.

  He looked toward his phone. Griff would know. He could call his friend and get the scoop before he came home.

  But no, it was the middle of the night in Friar Hollow, and even if it wasn’t, it wasn’t Griff’s job to spy on Ellie. He’d be putting his friend in an uncomfortable spot. Besides, he wouldn’t trust anyone else’s opinion of Marcus other than his own.

  Something petty and juvenile inside of him was stung by the fact that Ellie hadn’t asked for his opinion of this guy. That she hadn’t at least wanted his take on the man with whom she was about to spend the rest of her life.

  He hadn’t even realized Ellie had been serious about anyone the last time he’d seen her in person, and that was only two months ago. She’d said she was dating someone, but that was it. Dating. He hadn’t thought much of it, to be honest, because dating implied something casual. It referred to the very beginning of a new relationship when everyone was still getting to know one another. It wasn’t like she’d said she was in a relationship—if she had, he would have asked more questions.

  He’d assumed that if it was serious, she’d have introduced this guy to her lifelong best friend, right?

  But she hadn’t introduced him—she hadn’t even mentioned his name. So, it couldn’t have been all that serious.

  He resisted the urge to crumple the invite into a ball, but that wouldn’t make it any less real. Even after a week of turning it over, his mind had a difficult time making sense of this new turn of events.

  She’d said she was dating someone. Dating! One didn’t go from dating to engaged overnight, did they?

  He glared at the invite. Clearly they did. He should have asked her more questions about the new guy back then, but he hadn’t thought much of it. Ellie dated. He dated. That’s what unattached people did at their age. He’d talked to her on the phone and texted with her but other than a few comments about this new, nameless guy she was seeing, he’d assumed she was too busy with her work to get seriously involved with anyone. Just like he was too busy traveling for work to even think about a commitment.

  He’d just assumed that they were both…waiting.

  Waiting for what? He didn’t know. But they were still young, they had plenty of time. He’d always known this day would come someday, but now? And with some unknown entity named Marcus Finlay?

  The name irked him. He’d bet money Marcus was a pretty boy. Maybe a banker or an insurance salesman. His mind went down a dead-end road as he tried to imagine what this Marcus Finlay character would be like and how he could ever possibly be good enough for his Ellie.

  He couldn’t be. That was the only answer. No one was good enough for her.

  But she’d chosen this man.

  A wave of something dark and toxic rushed through his blood. It was a sensation he’d felt often this past week and one he had yet to name. He’d thought a little time would make it pass. After all, it was only natural that he’d be a little possessive and protective of his oldest and closest friend.

  But this sensation—this burning frustration—it went far beyond protective instincts or the possessive feelings of a friend having to cede his status as closest male confidant to another man.

  No, this was something more.

  Something…entirely out of place. He tossed the invitation to the floor as he came to stand. In a flurry of activity he finished packing his one worn duffel bag, tossing in his clothes but taking far more time and care with his camera equipment.

  The job was done, and there was no time to waste. He might not have worked through whatever weird emotions he’d been battling ever since he’d first seen the wedding invitation, but that didn’t mean he had to sit here and stew.

  He’d stayed silent long enough.

  He’d stayed away for far too long.

  Ian checked the time on the desktop clock. He had less than two hours before his next flight, and then he’d be home.

  Home.